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Carlo C Gomez Jul 2023
The cocktail waitress in the corner

Tonight she skates at Roller City

In polka dots and ponytails

Her lips pursed and polished

For she disapproves of most everything that offers little reflection

No bringing your own music

No pinching the dancers

She moves to a secret sound

Regarding herself as an international spy

In the house of fun
Jammit Janet Jul 2021
Poetry in motion
Hair in the wind
One with my emotions
Dedicated to the present
Full of presence
As I roll around
Words and wheels
Healing the world's essence.
Jammit Janet Jul 2021
Sway like the wind
Contract your core
Feel it harden
Let out your roar

As you release with intention
Lay her out flat
With determination
Make the blockers curse
Cause they lost track

Nickel and dime
My currency
As I make
My way back around
Securing our victory
As the venue fills with joyous sound
A poem about jamming in roller derby! ♡
She dances on the feeble ice
Her moves so precise
A leap for some spice
It's something she feels through her bones
As music and their blending tones
The wind through her hair
She has a spark, a flare
Sliding on the ice without a care
Humming to an unheard tune
In her own beautiful cocoon
The sky a deep maroon
To any disturbance she is immune
She twirls like a top
Moving nonstop
Her hands free in the air
She moves without a care
It was my dream when I was little to become a skater, I still love everything about it.
silly Feb 2021
imagine if i could
glide across life,
like the way figure skaters
glide across the ice?

a triple salchow,
i’ve taken flight.
my biggest dreams,
those fearful nights.

if i could glide,
the wind in my face.
how easy would it be,
to make a mistake?

and ruin the whole program.
RLee Feb 2021
The music is playing.
All eyes are on me.
The arena is silent.
My choreography is my enemy.

I begin my prep,
For something I’ve never done.
The Axel
The Axel
It’s the only one.

I shiver and I shudder.
It is oh so cold.
I really need to do this,
To win the Olympic Gold

My toe-pick hits the ice
And makes a loud Chk.
I go up and rotate,
Then I come back down and stick.

I did it! It was awesome!
I take a pose.
The crowd erupts.
I froze.

I looked up at the scoreboard.
I looked at my coaches so bold.
And I found out,
That I had won the Olympic Gold.
by: 11 year old, Reagan Lee
Itunu Nov 2020
Not an impulsive interest,
But a gradual love.

In the midst of this stress and uncertainty,
One thing I know for sure.

I crave the freedom of skating.
The mental release it has to offer.

Like releasing myself from this cage,
I’m locked in.

A brief solace,
From my over worked brain.

To feel the wind in between my hair
Fresh air filling my lungs.

My strong legs supporting my body,
Knees bent ready to take off.

The taste of victory in my mouth,
Sweaty adrenaline palms.

I want roller skates,
So very badly.

- a broke struggling student
If you’re feeling generous or benevolent lately, Hey:)
Jammit Janet Jul 2020
Tie my laces,
Anchor me now,
Release the tide of emotion,
It’s ready for the crowd,

Electricity pulses in my chest,
Jolts through my limbs,
And sparks at my finger tips,

Connected to the earth,
I’m grounded,
I’m strong,

My stride will leave lightning,
Powerful and long,

My decisions quick,
Agile, steady,

Ready to dip, dive,
Juke, swerve,
Hop & leap,
Through that hole,
I'm ready,

Ready to be a brace,
For my family,
Jam or be a ****,
To achieve our goal,

Together as one we skate,
Into the unknown future we go.
How ephemeral the memories now seem.
As if they truly come from a world altogether unfamiliar…

Tis but a dream
The early mornings spent on ice,
The blinding lights and gorgeous whites,
Thirsty lungs,
Tired quadriceps,
And of course bruised knees.
And all of them filled to bursting with the emphatic movements,
And lifts,
Of the bladed ballerinas
That dance across my fading dreamscapes…

The ice-dancer glides effortlessly,
But with purpose austere.
Every muscle contracted in the manner most conducive
To manifesting their artistic desire.
From fingertips
To toe-picks
Their body transfigured into an instrument of emotion —
A weapon of beauty.
From start to end each routine is a metamorphosis:
Budding and blooming along a euphonious plane
Until the artist’s full potential is revealed…
The energy released —
The raw power,
Of the jumps and spins,
Kaleidoscopic fireworks
Against the roaring white backdrop:
Each explosion
The ignition of a chambered round;
The spiralling bullet,
The impact on target…
The artist’s winter warfare actualized.

Last night,
As such ballerinas …riveting …terrifying
Danced around the panorama of my mind’s eye
I recalled that ultimate unison between flesh and spirit;
That of the figure skater
Painting their art
On a canvas most cruel.
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