"gretzky" poems
To know just where your're going
You must know where you've been
You must respect the history
The things others have seen
It's true in all things relative
Be it music, sports or life
If you don't know where you came from
You're just dancing on a knife
Gherig, Ruth and Robinson
May, and Mantle, Seaver too
Respect their contributions
And don't just say Ruth who?
Respect where things have come from
And the players of the past
Because you learn and make things better
It's what makes the **** game last
Jimmy Foxx, Bob Gibson, Kaline
Nestor Chylak and The Goose
They made baseball special
They gave the game a little juice
Orr, Richard and Gretzky
Gordie Howe and Howie Morenz
You have to know about them
You need the beginning to your ends
Bob Baun and Bill Barilko
Connie Smythe and yeah...the Chief
You have to know their history
They're what it is to be a Leaf
The game has changed immensely
Things can not go back in time
But to me...the old alumni
Made the game I know as mine
Respect the ones before you
The ones who laid the groundwork down
The ones who made it special
The non-pretenders to the crown
Elvis, Buddy, Harrison
Played the songs inside their heart
Lennon, Wilson and the rest
They all played a real big part
Every single generation
should learn from the one before
For if they don't know where they've come from
Then what has it all been for?
Nicklaus, Palmer, Bobby Jones
Sarazen and Hogan too
They pushed the gameright to it's limits
Now the pressure's upon you
The new breed are the teachers now
They're the ones to lead the way
When twenty or so years from now
You'll hear somebody say
"Respect who came before you
The ones who made us so **** proud
LIke Nash and , Perry and Taylor Hall
They played the game so loud
Pudge, Jeter, and Verlander
they brought it up a notch
They were there to stretch the limits
Not to just sit by and watch
Rory, Justin Rose and Mahan
Bubba, Dustin and the rest
They are the players of the future
They all respected the games best
So, to know where you are going
You must know where you have been
Respect, past through the future
And all that's happened in between.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
Not knowing, ignorance, is a funny thing.
I use to see my past as either a treasure chest or a time bomb, I was never entirely sure which.
I use to see my past as a catalyst to some grand adventure, but I could only guess at how long it would last.
That's how it goes, everyone only guessing when their adventure ends. Some people know how, but no one knows exactly when.
For me though, there was more, A larger question mark, more X's in my equation. I knew less, and it always had me imagining.
You see I was adopted at birth, I never knew my life givers, my body makers, my me creators. I only knew they existed. That and the scraps of information gathered throughout years of questions like needles picked slowly and painfully while searching through the hay.
She played the flute, just like you.
He looked (to her at least) like Wayne Gretzky.
They were never married.
This was the story but it wasn't my treasure, it wasn't wasn't my bomb.
You see I have no idea what to expect at the end of the story, the place where I would meet them, my DNA combiners.
At the X on this treasure map would there be gold? Would I find a count-down on a bomb amidst my riches? Would there be, among the glittering joy, a hint at when this grand adventure would end?
Most importantly,
Did I want to know?
Curiosity has always burned in me like a forest fire raging far beyond my self control.
I wanted to know.
Would I find in the story of my life's creation more family to love, more people who matter?
Or not?
And if there was a bomb what would it be?
Cancer,
Heart-disease,
Osteoporosis,
Alzheimer's?
Do I want to know?
Do I want to see an expiry date on my young life?
This knowing is a gamble,
These dice cannot be loaded,
These cards cannot be cheated.
That is my choice, to live out an adventure short or long, and discover their story.
Discover my story.
Ignorance is a funny thing.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
in football it's Dallas
with it's lone silver star
in baseball it's Atlanta
Ted's Super Station reaches far
basketball is a toss up
between east and west coast
the Lakers have flashy Magic
Irish Celtics of Bird they boast
hockey is another story
the Canadians have it there
but Gretzky's defection to LA
is an answer to a King's prayer
Lion King:
I Just Can't Wait to Be King
jbm
NYC
9/15/88
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
i'm a punching bag for expectations
they throw themselves at me the way every pro athlete yearns to be in the record books
the hall of fame
to get an interview on live national television
to hold the trophy that every Jerry Rice or Wayne Gretzky or Michael Jordan from history has held:
passionately,
obsessively,
with a fervent, unrelenting fire.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
Laying here alone thinking.
Thinking of the choices i’ve made.
Wondering if i’ll be able to speak again.
It’s 2 AM, and i’m all alone.
Like the period at the end of a sentence, this story has ended.
Like many before it.
But when the next one comes along, and you wanna make a memory out of it.
Just look up. There’s a semi-colon there, wating to write your story.
Embrace it, feel it, let it consume your very existance.
And after all, let it be your guide.
For once, 1 simple character be so little but seem so important.
Wayne Gretzky once said, “you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take”.
So take the shot. Take the risk. Maybe you’ll learn from it.
We all make mistakes in this world. And ways to fix them.
But unlike pencils, we don’t immediately have erasers to fix our mistakes.
Because we choose to embrace things differently.
If only we looked up at the stars to explain why these things happen to us.
Because to us, those stars are magnificent.
Here I am, laying here in the dark. With the night stars shining bright.
Ready to write my story.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 2:48 AM UTC
He sets out from Cape Elizabeth on a little skiff
into the silvery Atlantic at dawn;
несчастливый, he whispers, and the salty wind
throws the word against a cliff.
His curse, he swears, is gone.
He dreams of fighting fish, of yellow fins,
of something more than mottled cod.
In afternoon, a bite: too strong to reel.
I’ll take you by surprise, the young man thinks.
He settles in and prays to God
that his fish will equal many meals,
that Gretzky will prevail at the rink.
I can pull you, fish, but I will let you tire.
He eats a bit of bread and takes a final look
into the deep.
The black of the sea meets the black of the sky;
the moon hangs, an empty fishhook,
and the young man holds the line and sleeps.
He’s awakened by a pull, a smack
of nose and bone against the stern;
she’s pulling further yet from shore.
Blood dripping, palms raw, he holds fast.
She’s still on the line. His feet stand firm.
Tomorrow, fish. I’ll wait one day more.
The next morning sees him rise,
prepared to fight.
You will come home with me today, fish.
In his weathered palms: the line.
Sun and salt and sweat collide
on bronze muscles blessed by Helios.
The fish responds right away:
she circles and he pulls, a deep-sea tango
until she’s there beside the skiff,
blue like tokens worn by brides on wedding days,
chain-mail sapphires with a sheen of gold:
a more beautiful adversary could not exist.
Regret set in. One of us must die today, fish.
She pulls him close; his hand lands on her fin.
Behind him, the harpoon, too far to reach.
One of us must die—I am not sure I care which.
His body is broken, somewhere within,
an injury he cannot treat.
*The Great One played with a broken rib in ’93.
I must be worthy of him.*
His bones cry and shriek, but he will not rest.
He plunges bleeding hands into the sea
And wrestles body and fin—
She presses against his breathless chest.
He pulls her nearer still,
Weapon at hand,
And as he is about to deliver the fatal wound
Her dark eyes ****
the need to prove his worth as a man.
His fingers drop the heavy harpoon.
*We are equals, fish; I cannot take your life.
I cannot sell your flesh.
I cannot catch you just to boast.*
He draws his rusty knife
but cannot bring himself to thrash
the rope that binds them both.
He sits down in the boat.
*Fish, take me out to sea.
Fish, it’s you and me.*
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 3:49 PM UTC
You’ve got 99 problems but your loyalty is one,
you’ll never solve them now the World Cup is done.
Achieved by your colours that aren’t so true,
by a Nation that once treasured you.
Gretzky I believe your reign is through.
You used to shoot and inevitably you’d score,
imagine the disappointment of each Gord.
Keep the red and white but add the blue,
betray a Nation that once treasured you.
Gretzky; no longer number one not even two.
Keep your guns and keep your hate,
Canada’s not your fifty-first state.
We’ve always been a Country, one that’s great.
Went to a room and ignored the sign,
now we’ve changed the labels and removed your wine.
Disappointed in what you would do,
to a National that once treasured you.
The sadness and anger only grew.
An apology that will come too late,
Canada will never be your fifty-first state.
Not up for discussion or debate.
A concept you should understand,
you can’t put a “for sale” sign on our land.
The death of a legend came from the hands
of a bad man and a bad plan.
No longer the greatest of all time
after you’ve committed the greatest of crimes.
We won’t take the tariffs or the bait,
Canada will never be your fifty first state.
We’ll cement the actions and the date.
So stay in exile as is it your fate,
Canada won’t be your fifty first state,
cause it’s the one, the one that’s great.
Mar 13, 2025
Mar 13, 2025 at 6:29 PM UTC
I am the Gretzky of all Gretzkys
The ultimate air Jordan
As cool as Joe Montana
and as nuts as Lizzy Borden
A child of all four powers
with stealth and smarts and grace
With a stick and an ax
and a perfect pass
I'll dunk right in your face
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
I'm seeking fulfillment and purpose and a job if i can find one that's worth it
For sure it's not easy to remain vigorous and happy in face of things that make you queasy and not to sound sappy
But maybe if the sun came out then i wouldn't feel so ******
because i feel out of place like a straight hair where every other strand is curled and *****
But what if i started feel good inc, and manufactured happiness to the masses I'll make a killing like a colorado grass grower, maybe then I'll show them that
You can make money doing anything under the right circumstances but my chances are slim for that ever happening like Wayne Gretzky not wearing 99 on the ice
Or maybe, just maybe, we could all spread some love outside
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 12:41 AM UTC