"champions" poems
We were teammates
We suited up
We showed up
We weren't stars
But we rolled in the dirt
With the best of them
Our blood ran red
Like the rest of them
Our sweat tasted salty
As the most athletic of them
Wounds and bruises
Ached like the most
Stalwart of them
We were Bulldogs!
We anted up our
Gifts and talents to
Forge a winning season
A flair for humor
Wry observation,
Encouragement, fortitude
And intelligence were as
Valuable as speed,
Agility and strength
We all pined for the
Affection of cheerleaders,
Bandmembers and the
Adoration of fans
We equally joined
In the chorus of
locker room banter
And honored the
Confidence of camaraderie
Such intimacy bares
We endured thankless
Adversity, while wending
through anonymous toil
As brothers
We grudgingly drank
From the vile cup of defeat
And passed the chalice
Of victory among us
To share the savory
Taste of triumph
As champions
The Duke of Wellington
Said “the battle of Waterloo
Was won on the fields of Eton”
I trust my teammates and
Not forgotten friends
Tasted sweet victories of
Happiness and success
As they coursed through
Their prodigious fields of life
And at games end
I hope their heart swelled
With pride to know they were
A beloved and Valiant Bulldog
David Irving Korsh #75
BCSL Champion 1973
Rutherford Bulldogs
Well done Valiant Bulldog
God bless and Godspeed
Music Selection:
Bruce Springsteen
Thunder Road
5/5/18
Puyallup
jbm
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
Beware the Quiet Ones.
The Quiet Ones are the Thinkers
The Quiet Ones are the Dreamers
They’re the heart seekers, thrill lovers, and love givers
They’re the heart breakers, story makers, and life changers
The best heroes, the worst villains, the most notorious saints and sinners
Their hearts and minds are largest of all (But they’ll never control them)
Beware the Quiet Ones, because it’s Always the Quiet Ones.
The Quiet Ones will always listen, even when you won’t do the same
They’ll break your comfort zone, just to make you comfortable
They’ll never ask for favors or a shoulder to cry on
But they will always be there, hanging on every word and tear
They’ll sell their souls to save yours, sacrifice their minds to break yours
They’re the strongest, and the most broken.
The Quiet Ones don’t like to harm you, because they know too well how it feels... but don’t you hurt them.
They’ll always forgive and never forget, and they know how to aim for the heart
All they know is the past, and vengeance is their greatest weapon.
That’s why it’s always the Quiet Ones.
Whether the key to your heart or your greatest fear? The Quiet Ones will find it – Beware the Quiet Ones.
The Quiet Ones are the first to stand up, and the last to point the finger
They’ll stand up for anything, because they have nothing to lose.
They are the champions of love and hate, and if you hate to love them, or love to hate them?
That was their plan all along.
Your deepest plots or darkest secrets? The Quiet Ones knew all along. They’re four steps ahead of you – Beware the Quiet Ones.
They’ll never put you down, but believe they know how, because the Quiet Ones see EVERYTHING
They know what you did, they heard what you said - they were there
Their depth knows no end, yet they’re so empty inside
Their curses bring power, their strengths bring weaknesses
They’ll control you, even when they can’t control themselves
That’s why it’s always the Quiet Ones
Beware the Quiet Ones.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 5:12 PM UTC
repetition
is never
more
than one
poem.
there’s no future
in this pill.
my mother’s head
is full of heads.
I haven’t a volleyball
in a pond
to **** on.
in the words of my son
a sailor is lost at me.
I go on correcting oddities
in the brain and in the muscle
of a jack
in the box
as a cyclist
champions
hunting mourners
to keep their numbers down.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC
Champion are champion
Have the mentality of champions
Always wanting to be champion
People depend on them to be champion
But can they always be champion?
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
A Jersey girl came along
and I started to think about angles of yaw
needed to take flight,
how the force of a kick skirts
the delicate line between winning and losing.
I’ve seen it all before, but not like this. Besides, seeing
has nothing to do with believing.
Corneas can't capture the vibrations of molecules or excitations
of electrons. Champions defy biology,
overcome gravity and I believe what goes up
does not always come down.
I want to know the point where focus takes control
of epinephrine, who’s cascade is initiated by the roar of a crowd,
but negatively regulated by doubt,
when to take a long shot or build up slowly.
I want to live the difference between accuracy and precision,
taste the dirt, become painted with bruises and scorch my heart.
A flag is heaviest when you carry it,
lightest when it’s raised,
worn as a cape and allowed to wave in the wind.
Countries aren't build, they're created created
denying muscles oxygen but allowing them to taste gold.
It's ability to conduct electricity astounds me.
It’s not about alchemy
but transforming sweat into tears,
fixing nitrogen, reducing triglycerides.
Not all reactions need light, some create it.
It’s only over when there’s not enough energy for activation.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
We are, THE Ohio State Buckeyes
*Those Oregon ducks look flashy
With pretty feathers made for flight
But The Ohio State Buckeyes
We will clip their wings tonight
Our Buckeye team beat Bama
They were ranked at number one
Now we get to go Duck hunting
With Cardale and his shotgun
The Ducks they did look good
Lets give credit where credit's due
They beat undefeated Florida State
So they deserve to be there too
With Ezekiel Elliott making runs
And Urban Meyer making calls
A quarterback known as twelve guage
The Buckeyes will win it all
So now we get to go duck hunting
And as a team we hunt as one
We are the Buckeye Nation
And Duck Season has begun*
**We Are
THE Ohio State Buckeyes**
Game score
FINAL
OHIO STATE 42 Oregon 20
The Ohio State Buckeyes are College Footballs First Playoff National Champions
Poem by:
Carl Joseph Roberts
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 5:30 AM UTC
My life is better for having met you.
A friend
Who feels nothing like a friend at all.
My life is better for having known you.
A champion
Who champions my pursuit of actualization.
My life is better for having loved you.
An equal
Who holds an unequal piece of my heart.
A man
who leaves me better
than he found me.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 1:14 PM UTC
If you're OCD,
You're going to hate this poem.
Because it's not what you're used to
and it can be infuriating
I know where i'm going and i'm laughing in enjoyment.
I wish i could take some comedians out of sheer unemployment
And take damaged soldiers out of deployment
But you know that drill already
We're just trying to keep the Earth's rotation steady
But i'm up for going steady
If that's what you want
We're all about want
I'm all about yours
Trying to coordinate each constellation
Is like arguing with a woman
You won't get the result you were looking for
It's beautiful in the tension
And it has it's suspension
But it's infinite
Meaning it will go on forever
So just try not to.
I never liked arguing
I know i won't later on
Your passion and support is all i need
That's what i look for the most
Someone who doesn't see me as some sort of ghost
Or lifeless party host
But someone that means the air they breathe
I get tired of my mistakes
But to know someone will try to help me prevent them
Is what i like
There has been a couple of people who tried
But i pushed them off the deep end
And i'm terribly sorry for that
Zero fault on you and all for me
I say that with a smile
Because it feels good to be honest with myself
You think it would be a brain-dead thing to master
But it only seems that way
I know from experience
Trust me, I've been there.
My trails go in multiple angles
Just like my nature
But if you're crazy enough to stick around
You'll get a warm welcome
You'll know how to feel special
If you never have before, i'll be the first to show you
I mean every word
With full fledged honesty
I wouldn't say useless, empty words
That's inept and not worth it.
If you're confident in yourself
Girl, you should work it
I heavily value strong traits such as that
You're going to turn all my bumps in my chest flat
And make me enamored just like that
The flick of the switch
No more wishing i would with other male persons.
To get a chance
That's why most men do a celebration dance
Consistently catching me in a trance
I got more lovely words than France
Okay, maybe not
But the ambition doesn't vanish
I'll still try
To keep you mine
Time is precious
So are you
If Time was a woman she would be in disgust
That it's not her in your shoes
You brought your sparkly ones?
Just making all the check marks, are you?
Champions aren't limited to sports
I can assure you.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 11:58 PM UTC
I peruse exhibits through the modern art museum
Nails hammered into wood
And trash strewn on the floor
I couldn't help thinking
What the **** is this ****
These can't be the champions of modern art
Moonlight and Arrival morphed my empathy and perspective
The theater is fine
Music is there for those inclined to discover it
So what about visual art?
I know a few things for certain
Nails hammered into wood never changed my perspective
Nor does seeing a garbage can in a museum affect my empathy
Trash is not art
Trash is trash
Waste meant to be thrown in the proper receptacles
So as not to obstruct our view of true beauty
I will concede that
Beauty can be found in everything
Depending on analyzation variation
But those that live an examined life
Constantly see silver linings and sour grapes
Experiencing comfort in tundras to the point of banality
Those visions are much more interesting
in their organic state anyway
As opposed to an interpersonal expression of the seemingly obvious
So what to hang in an art gallery?
I have my own opinions
At this point in time
No visuals elicit more emotions
Than dank memes
When I'm consuming art
Questions are innate in my consumption
Is this a vessel for empathy?
Is this examining the human condition?
Dank memes meet those criteria
Satirizing the powerful
Highlighting emotions and virtues in ourselves
That we're either proud or ashamed of
Memes share a common thread with poetry
In the sense that everybody can create memes
Or be a poet
I get the impression that
Universality of art diminishes it's importance
In the minds of patrons
There's an element of truth to that
But what makes art special is quality
And what makes art truly special is high quality
And that's what belongs in museums
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
Wax captured in all the flex
Structured detail with all the contour molds
Realistic in looks of behold
Wax of Bodybuilding champions at their best
Craftsmanship in not settling for less
It’s all about the pose
All angles covered I suppose
Imagine seeing Arnold Schwarzenegger captured at the time he won the 1970 Mr. Olympia
Then Sergio Olivia comes to mind
A waxed monster in the crab pose
All the veins looking like an intense fire hose
It would be competition in being prepared
The time vintage bodybuilders stepping on stage, and commotion in making the competition mad
The idea of muscles captured in pure wax
To attend I hope they don’t add any tax
But Bodybuilding is about facts
Achieve with a will and it’s no matter what age being still
Picture weights molded into wax
A bodybuilder lifting feeling a little perplexed
But it is true strength and dedication that makes bodybuilding work
This would be the message that the vintage Bodybuilding Wax Museum would convey
Bodybuilding exposure in every way
A vintage bodybuilding wax museum encouraging people to give Bodybuilding a try
I am quite sure there are questions of why
It is the intensity with effort that would make one cry
But the most important aspect would be “Stay away from drugs”
This should be captured on every souvenir mug
If anyone is caught taking drugs, we will just pull the plug
Well vintage bodybuilding wax museum it does have appeal
Now if we could just make it happen being for real.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC
Perhaps the greatest tennis player the World has ever seen
She had won nine Grand Slam tournaments before she was nineteen
Till her marvellous tennis career was prematurely ended in such a tragic way
Thrown from her horse her foot was crushed that's life as some might say.
The marvellous Maureen Connolly the greatest tennis player of her time
Her great career had ended long before she had reached her prime
Nine grand slams as a teenager her record may never be beat
She won every grand slam tournament in which she did compete.
The greats of present day tennis we hear so much about
Though 'tis not on their greatness we ever cast a doubt
But of nine Grand Slams as a teenager none of them can boast
To the late Maureen Connolly we ought to drink a toast.
Great tennis players like the Seasons they come and then they go
But there was only one Maureen Connolly the legendary 'Little Mo'
Nine Grand Slams as a teenager believe it if you may
The champion amongst champions her record stands today.
Apr 25, 2010
Apr 25, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
Champions don't always win
losers don't always lose
but Hero is Hero
a champion at heart...
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
Just to big up my team, my favorite team.
Hala Madrid! they would shout and scream.
Winning the most La Liga titles, 33 they won.
And 12 champions cup tiles, I know they had fun.
The team that Barcelona hates the most,
And the most goals they scored on RM was 7-0, that range wasn't close.
But Real Madrid had the same history of beating them by seven.
Also when we made them a fool by beating them eleven.
I mean we're not the best,
But the best of the best.
And out of the rest we stand alone..
Because we're determined to bring a trophy home.
Don't worry, this year 2018 we're looking forward for more.
I hope they don't let me down because I'm positive and sure.
Imagine we won La Liga and champions cup this year again.
The world will no longer watch or talk about Real Madrid my team the same.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 1:10 PM UTC
Settle down, the court is in session,
The esteemed Court of Validation,
Where I stand trial for being
And thus must attend this hearing
To seek the sublime opinions
Of the wise Jury of Champions
Who've been there done that.
Please lecture me on how to act,
Tell me how I must dress,
What to say under duress,
To brandish my success,
And my worth attest
To finally be accepted among civilization
With a stamp of approval from the Court of Validation.
Here comes the verdict for the Judge to read.
I'm guilty of possessing an identity.
Therefore I'm sentenced to a lifetime of conformity
To the status quo established by society.
But Your Honor, there must be a mistake!
There has to be another path to take.
Sorry child, this is the only way,
Or else you'd be imprisoned in the Cell of Dismay.
Embrace your fate without hesitation;
Indeed it's a gift from the Court of Validation.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
The Ohio State Buckeyes
National Champions
*THE Ohio State Buckeyes
National Champions of the land
They said we could not beat the ducks
But we proved them wrong again
First playoff champion to be crowned
The Urban legand had a plan
He would stuff the ducks with poison nuts
Then tar and feather them
The ducks they did put up a fight
And a salute we give to them
It took the Buckeye strength and speed
To finally brake them in the end
So let us all now stand in honor
And let it be known throughout the land
The Ohio State Buckeyes
Undisputed
National
Champions
The Ohio State Buckeyes
National Champions January 12, 2015*
Final
Ohio State 42 - Oregon 20
Poem by: Buckeye Carl Joseph Roberts
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
I' m special he says
Believed in it his teammates
Champions they were
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
on the green
hole 8, and five over par
southern california sunshine numb
leaning on a putting iron
leaning on a fistful of xanax
i had given up on the game a long time ago
just didn't know it yet
my friend was strung out on speed and coke
"breakfast of champions", he said
he had been aimlessly whacking the ball for the last hour
"fifty bucks to whoever hits Brian Wilson" he suddenly yelled!
sure enough, there was Brian Wilson,
standing by the mexican food-truck,
waiting for a taco or burrito or God knows what
i felt xanax confident
so i walked over and shook his hand
i told him thank you,
and that his music probably saved my life
"probably" he asked?
"yes" i said, and walked away
i told my friend to take some xanax and chill out
"xanax is just xanax spelled backwards" he said
and i could not argue with that
we never finished that round of golf,
but somehow i still feel like i won
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 11:34 PM UTC
O brother, tell us where you've been!
What is the world like beyond these trenches?
Is it safe to crawl out —
we heard the wolves were just 'were-' with a sweet tooth.
Won't you help us sniff out the lotus from the roses,
their thorns so cleverly hidden…
Sisters, we're tired of hiding in the dark,
our eyelids shut by the nurse's damp cloth;
To our champions: were you blessed in your travails?
Did you find the loving,
the caring,
the fabled Happy People that
Nashville balladeers croon about?
brave children, remember to return;
we dreamed of setting foot in a place of our own, too.
does one exist in their world ||
// NOT THEIR WORLD
NOT OURS EITHER
BUT ALL OF OUR
UNIVERSE //
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 2:23 AM UTC
What's happening to hello poetry?
I don't need to know when the next soccer game is
And if I can watch for free.
Only football I know is American like the pride that's in me.
My blood doesn't boil the native sounds of my country.
Since my motherland is the Dominican
But America my step motherland won custody and raised me, since the age of three.
Don't forget is not who made you but who you fed you, who clothed you, who saw your first shot to a basket, who saw your first catch, who kept your body warm when you got another cold, and so on.
This is "Breakfast for Champions"
Just ask Kurt Vonnegut
What's happening to hello Poetry?
Show your art
Get your due diligence
Don't sell us your dreams don't broadcast your business unless is a story, book signing or deal.
I don't need a spell to make a girl fall in love. I got these words
For and to whom I might propose
Love or an indecent occasion of lust.
Let my words be the for front on this site but they're second to my actions.
Since I don't speak much b'cause my Latin accent.
What is happening to hello poetry?
Private messages by strangers who don't write or speak words.
Claim is urgent and as a poet
You know kind hearted, love lost, And so on...
You just might want to message their Hotmail.
Sad story under prosecution
Sad story the relation is abusive
Mocking the painful truths of some of us artist.
Just wanting a piece of the pie
But when I order I even eat the crust and never leave crumbs.
Take offense or not I just don't give a ****
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 7:44 AM UTC
Cascades were dripping outside of this moving vehicle
White noise, patternless and arrhythmic
like magnified sounds of nails on a concrete wall,
made by souls desperate to cleave their way to dryness
This public utility vehicle holds spirits successful in finding this temporary heaven
Weathered, soaked and almost drowned
like panting dogs that managed to swim ashore from a shipwreck
caused by the iceberg that is the eye of the storm
This safe haven holds champions in a world of misshapen men
A woman clutches tightly on a bag of lime and her ever waning youth
Tired, but not eager to face Death
still closing her windows to his cat burglars
that come faster than the downpour of Typhon's tears
A homeless child comfortably sleeps on the far end of this ride
His innocence tested by fate
Too experienced for someone his age
instead of just playing in the streets he calls home
The jeepney driver has eyes on the road painted by Van Gogh
Unabashed, industrious and assiduous
determined to serve,
provide for a family whose stomachs hunger not but they hunger for his return
This other dimension nurtures alien thoughts and parallel thinking among beat down men
I do not know them but I can hear the cries of their emotions,
their longing to be felt and empathized with
Their voiceless cries are guns with a silenced nozzle
shooting at anyone ignorant who curiously stare at this minefield of a passenger jeep
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
Thugs with Pens & Aerosol Cans
Thugs with Pens
Hell-bent; not on cultism
Just airing the other sentiments
That don’t make it to primetime
Thugs with pens
Not poking out eyes
Just venting spleen
Sick of the lies
Thugs with pens
Deserve to be heard
They don’t poison your brain
With stacks of *****
Thugs with pens
And aerosol cans
Can change your mind
In ******* time
Thugs with pens
Can make a dent
They don’t need to insert
Un-readable, un-interesting
Covert small print....
Thugs with pens
Don’t need no script writers
Or advisors nor signatories
Witnesses, nor dodgy men
With gold plated fountain pen nibs
To make amends
Or throw in no hidden clauses
That secretly **** your life blood
Thugs with pens
Don’t aim to pierce your skin
But make their mark
Deeper within
Thugs with pens
And aerosol cans
Completely uncensored
champions of free speech
The establishment want suppressed,
silenced, deleted; terminated.
Thugs with pens
And aerosol cans don’t
Schedule meetings
To fix the minutes
And schedule another meeting
And keep ‘minutes’
As square angled
And unproductive
As formal conversation
Thugs with pens
Aim venomous ink
At headless politicians
That squawks like chickens
Bending over
For the *************
Bank-beefing corporations,
Controlling the masses
With ***** little catchphrases
And mounds of munitions
And illegally enforced restrictions
On your movement and free expression
Honest men
Have nothing to fear
From Thugs with Pens & Aerosol Cans
These “thugs” seek asylum
From countries
Where the law’s
Not bought and bent
Thugs with pens & aerosol cans
Are made to wear monikers and masks
Thugs with pens
Don’t turn on its own
Neighbours and citizens
To perpetuate myths:
A ****** ************* lie…
A thing that never happened!
(That’s for all of you dumb wits
out there
Who believe most of the ****
That’s drip fed
Your sensation addicted minds
Most of the time,)
Time you started reading between the lines
In fact get a pen
Or an aerosol can
Write your own lines
Start broadcasting
Reclaim your space
Before you’re completely neoned
Into the shade
And corralled under the spell
Of a TV screen
Or an anger raising headline
That conducts the flow
Of the status quo
Load up your magazines
With ball point pens
And sharp edged writing nibs,
Strap on a belt of aerosol cans
Reclaim your right to free expression
In public spaces
Join the rag-tag army
Of intuitive
Self-knowing men
The End: is well begun,
George Orwell
Should never have written
That blueprint,
‘1984’
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
I sing sweet whispers of affection
Offer only the best to catch your attention
I ask you, oh radiant goddess of Olympus
May I humbly be the one you choose
For eons your heart suffered
Your trust tampled and discarded
Your coveted love easily forgotten
Leaving you in pain, down and broken
Oh goddess, queen of Olympia
Shine your light towards me
Look at my growing affections, I pray
Embrace my devotion, and the words I say
I don't want to be the Zeus you loathe
Nor the offered champions who eventually leave you
Instead I simply am a mortal admirer
Enamoured by you, my eyes only seeking you
I don't want to be the one who hurts you
I simply want to devote myself completely to you
So I pray for a future that you will see me
As I have chosen to seek the world just for you
Oh Hera, beautiful yet broken soul
I promise you a lifetime of Love
Just to give you smiles everyday
And to be your pillar and strength
In my simplest mortal words, I love you
Regardless of your flaws and your iniquities
In my simplest mortal ways, I'll love you
Through all the ages, no matter what stands in our way
So please, Let me choose to stay
Because your mere presence is my heaven
Your embrace my sturdy, protective walls
Your kisses the nectar and ambrosia that sustains me
Oh Hera, goddess of my affections
Please see me as where you fit
I'll stay here until you're ready to choose
Because in all this chaos, I vow to treasure you
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 1:23 AM UTC
Take one step forward
And two steps back.
Be sure you are following
The corporate track.
Pay out your earnings
Never give a ****
Now you are doing
The Uncle Sam Scam.
Bend right over and
Touch your own toes.
The politicians mostly can’t
And that’s how it goes.
They get their money
And big raises too.
Just like the CEOs
But none for you.
Take one step forward
And two steps back.
Be sure you are following
The corporate track.
Pay out your earnings
Never give a ****
Now you are doing
The Uncle Sam Scam.
Social Security funds
Came in mighty handy
When Georgie wanted war
And it was a dandy.
It made money for
His favorite buddies
And made our country’s rep
Murderously muddy.
Take one step forward
And two steps back.
Be sure you are following
The corporate track.
Pay out your earnings
Never give a ****
Now you are doing
The Uncle Sam Scam.
If you think more of CEOs
And big money corporations
Than you do of the people
Suffering in our nation
And you keep voting for jerks
And overrated hams
You are becoming champions
Of the Uncle Sam Scam.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
Back of the net,
A collective roar
Of instant joy,
Lets get one more.
We need the points
To stay on top.
So keep on chanting
in the Spion Kop.
Four wins on the trot,
lets make it 5.
We'll bring this city of
Liverpool alive.
It's now or never,
We're almost there.
This is the last game,
This is our year.
45 minutes to go,
Then the season ends.
Go tell your neighbours,
Go tell your friends.
Join in with the chorus,
Join in with the song,
We are Liverpool,
We are back,
Right where we belong.
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 7:55 AM UTC
Coffee and tea at the cafe of Christ
The Bible for breakfast
Slurping stories from ***** and Samuel
To Ezekial and Ezra.
Start your day the holy way with Christ chex.
Ahh. The breakfast of champions
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC