"puck" poems
Hockey is fun to watch
Hockey is fun to play
Shoot the puck in the clutch
Bat the cold pucks away
Skate down the smooth white ice
Pass to a free teammate
Time together is nice
Don't shoot the puck too late
Fans like to view hockey
Who is the best player?
Kids like Sidney Crosby
He's a goalie slayer
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 8:02 PM UTC
I wish I was Canadian
so this could be my game
But here I stand in GM place
And scream and shout the same
I watch the puck, the stick the skates
and marvel at the skill
As gladiators prowl the ice
Hunting for the ****
Across the blue the offence moves
bearing down once more
A pass, a fake a sudden slap
it's in the goal we SCORE
The crowd goes wild and shouts with joy
our voices become one
And in that moment, I join their ranks
I am Canadian !!!
Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 5:14 PM UTC
Like bladed birds of steel they glide and wing,
Across the ice without any dismay,
Fearing no hard body check or cold swing.
They circle the net in frozen ballet,
Flitting about like puck-handling mice,
Tenacity drips from each ounce of their play.
They dazzle with grace all over the ice,
With a jump, a spin, and a pirouette,
Always ready to pay a high price.
They give it all ‘till they’re soaked through with sweat.
We watch with joy from our perch high above.
Our yells, their chirping—it’s quite a duet!
These men change the game with the drop of a glove,
And so, bloodthirsty, we give them our love.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC
He was large as frogs go
Fist-sized happy rotund dweller
of backyard pond
Garter snake large, too large
with his ominous yellow stripes
and jaws to take
a larger than average mouthful
Choked by abdomen's girth
Legs drooling from his glut
Before the victim's even hit his gut's
digestive juices
Kid with hockey stick makes him puck
for his sin
Frog makes desperate
slim swim for rocks
Where he lies in recovery
from shock and
teeth marks on his belly
Underdog gets defense from phone call-- Eve
150 miles away
intercedes
Frog gets mercy of a transport
to another backwoods pond--
to find his life
forgetting trauma
Suns himself and swims
Eats the bugs
and ***** the froglettes
of another day
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
Oh Helena, how I doth know thy pain
Mocked is thine love when at love's feet thrown
Love hath looked upon thee with disdain
And yet still for him thy love hath grown
Do not despair Cupid's arrow at thine door does knock!
Upon thee, loves eyes an awakening will be placed
No longer can love's spiteful eyes see thee and mock!
And to thine love will he quickly rush in haste
But first know before one is to have thy way
A comedy must first be struck upon
Alas Puck! Disaster hath struck and a game we must all play
Before order is once more restored and the past foregone
Oh no! Now a love thrown upon thee unwanted
Mockery suspected, no more of this dost thou deserve
Evermore another feeling given to thee daunted
But now sit back, let the story unfurl and observe!
Finally soft words to thee spoken so craved
At once entranced but then felt thee a fool!
From nowhere sweet words so spoken must be depraved!
And in thine heart feeling loves sting ever so cruel
Now thy dearest friend! Intertwined within such a conspiracy
Such betrayal! Dear girl know it is a mistake
Albeit twisted and buried in the cruelest irony
Thy dearest friend, thine love she does not wish to shake
Through troubles and trials thou maketh thy way to a beautiful field
Fast asleep next to the love thy value ever so
Puck, fix thy mistake, give Helena her love to finally wield
And at last house a mutual love to forever grow
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
Deary deary give me your toe to ****
I'm half crazy my mind is running muck
I can't afford a foot spa
but love to hear you ooh awww
cause your two feet
taste oh so sweet
between these lips that I love to puck
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 7:19 AM UTC
1279
The Way to know the Bobolink
From every other Bird
Precisely as the Joy of him—
Obliged to be inferred.
Of impudent Habiliment
Attired to defy,
Impertinence subordinate
At times to Majesty.
Of Sentiments seditious
Amenable to Law—
As Heresies of Transport
Or Puck’s Apostacy.
Extrinsic to Attention
Too intimate with Joy—
He compliments existence
Until allured away
By Seasons or his Children—
Adult and urgent grown—
Or unforeseen aggrandizement
Or, happily, Renown—
By Contrast certifying
The Bird of Birds is gone—
How nullified the Meadow—
Her Sorcerer withdrawn!
6k
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Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
I stand apart from the rest, I stand at the last line of defense, I stand in the way of what every player wants most, I am a dream wrecker, A monument killer, every puck is a threat, every puck carrier accomplice. I defend my net on the principle that it is my home and that nothing comes in uninvited, every save I make fuels the next, every crease I protect is my own, I am satisfied only after I stop everything.
I am a goalie
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
I saw Jim at Two Amigos
Sitting at the bar,
Stick-handling a coaster.
He was a hockey star,
Showed it when he smiled;
His nose a puck.
He tells stories
Of blood freezing on ice,
Jersey pulls and sweat,
Body checks and corners.
He drives the zamboni,
Making the ice sheet a giant mirror.
The crowds cheer Jim
To get off the ice,
Let the game begin.
He speeds his machine
To the far end doors,
Vanishing down the tunnel.
He's just ordered a double boiler-maker,
Stirs his whiskey with a swizzle-stick,
And slaps back another shot.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
The child alone a poet is:
Spring and Fairyland are his.
Truth and Reason show but dim,
And all’s poetry with him.
Rhyme and music flow in plenty
For the lad of one-and-twenty,
But Spring for him is no more now
Than daisies to a munching cow;
Just a cheery pleasant season,
Daisy buds to live at ease on.
He’s forgotten how he smiled
And shrieked at snowdrops when a child,
Or wept one evening secretly
For April’s glorious misery.
Wisdom made him old and wary
Banishing the Lords of Faery.
Wisdom made a breach and battered
Babylon to bits: she scattered
To the hedges and ditches
All our nursery gnomes and witches.
Lob and Puck, poor frantic elves,
Drag their treasures from the shelves.
Jack the Giant-killer’s gone,
Mother Goose and Oberon,
Bluebeard and King Solomon.
Robin, and Red Riding Hood
Take together to the wood,
And Sir Galahad lies hid
In a cave with Captain Kidd.
None of all the magic hosts,
None remain but a few ghosts
Of timorous heart, to linger on
Weeping for lost Babylon.
4.8k
Frozen Pond
Buried deep under a frozen pond,
lies a brunette, red head and a blonde.
The brunette lived a simple life,
her name was Mary and my first wife.
Got married young, at age nineteen,
I was a king, she was my queen.
Caught her sleeping with my brother,
so naturally, I slept with her mother.
In the winter we went ice skating,
drilled out a hole, while I was awaiting.
As she got close, I pushed her in,
if only the ***** had a fin.
Two years later met a red headed beauty,
she was a little nuts and a lot fruity.
Ginger was this psychos name,
once again my brother was to blame.
Caught them in his back seat,
he played tricks, she gave him treats.
On the frozen pond we took a walk,
smashed a hole with a giant rock.
Pushed her in till she was under,
she screamed louder than Florida thunder.
My brother the blonde, his name Jake,
loved to go to that frozen lake.
Playing hockey with his friends,
him and his fancy Mercedes Benz.
One day we were passing the puck,
a hole in the ice and he got stuck.
I said, sorry brother but you deserve,
to fall in while I stand and observe.
Now my life is complete,
girls now know better than to cheat.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
"You're the Ariel to my Prospero"
He says grinning
with dagger pearl teeth
that could nibble my ear
or easily rip out my heart.
Ignorant of his mundanity
He does not know of those
who came before.
Names are relative.
"You're the Puck to my Oberon"
"You're the Tink to my Peter Pan"
Heard 'em all.
Plight of the Manic Pixie
Not Dream Girl.
Charming Sassy Childish
girl.
Sidekick Extraordinaire.
But lower than Robin to his Batman.
Messenger, Trickster, Mischief Maker.
Companion.
Adventurer.
with a temper ten times his size.
A power unnamed. Unused.
Never Enough.
Never enough
to Want to challenge her master.
ProsperoOberonPeter
I will drink the poison for you.
I will sink the ship.
I will find the ****** flower
and enchant the Fairy queen.
Follow orders, then twist them.
With some glittler and a devilish smile.
Crazy Tiny
girl.
Too pixie to hold on to
Catch me Boy!
Alreadycaughtnoneedtocatch.
Little ****** Manic Pixie
Yearning for a kiss
a touch
a word.
When you're a manic pixie
there's no trio
no male sidekick to choose
over
the hero.
But the hero gets the girl.
Manic Pixies live to serve.
Not dignified or wise enough for Royal Athena.
Not ruthless enough for the Dangerous Diana.
Without the darkness of the Morrigan.
Virginity isn't a choice.
It's part of the job description.
Could I be your ladybird?
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
There was something about that memory of that sunset from like 10 years ago
With the summer cold closing in on my parent’s old bones
and the summer bliss embracing my naive young kiss
I just want to go back sometimes,
Sometimes, I miss the lights, sights, frights,
The bruises, blood, and peroxide,
Young minds sanctified by pure fun outside.
I remember playing roller hockey in the street
But I got grounded for throwing the puck at some teeth
Nobody got hurt, and the next day
We were back at it, finding random exotic leaves.
It was fun.
I remember playing video games when it was raining outside
And fighting over who got to be player one
Now I remember when there were perfect clouds in the sky
and we were playing video games until the stories were done
that was yesterday.
(to be continued)
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
My Country 'tis of thee
A footnote in history
Of thee I sing
I will dare to compare
for those who were not there
I will try to be fair
Of thee I sing....
My Country was very proud
My Country is full of PRIDE (Insert your rainbow flag here)
My Country was safe at night, you could leave the doors open
My Country is scarier, you don't feel safe until the deadbolts are locked and window bars are in place.
My Country was a place where you knew you could get a housecall from a doctor if needed.
My Country is a place where patients die waiting for a doctor, in the hallway no less.
My Country was amber fields of grain
My Country is Amber alerts and looking for missing children in Amber fields of grain
My Country was the CBC
My Country is satellite television with 400 channels and nothing to watch.
My Country was a place where our flag was respected world wide
My Country is a place where we are respected still....as long as it involves a puck.
My Country was leading the way into the future
My Country is always looking over it's shoulder to see what's coming
My Country was a great place to vacation with the family
My Country is The Untited States for at least 3 weeks annualy, because it's cheaper there.
My Country was strong and a world leader in science and technology
My Country is on life support.
My Country was my families first choice of a place to live
My Country is still my families first choice of a place to live...barely
My Country 'tis of thee
A footnote in history
Of Thee I sing
I hope you get the gist
There's not much I have missed
I loved, but now I'm ******
Of Thee I sing.....
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
My sister is a quarterback
I rarely catch a pass
and she can run a marathon
I soon run out of gas
she pitches for her baseball team
I pop up on her curve
and she's an ace at tennis
I can't return her serve
My sister dunks the basketball
I dribble like a mule
she swims like a torpedo
I flounder in the pool
she's accurate at archery
I hardly ever score
She wrestles and she boxers
I wind up on the floor
My sister catches lots of fish
I haven't had any luck
she's captain of her hockey team
I can't control the puck
her bowling's are unbelievable
I bowl like a buffoon
she says someday I'll start to win...
I hope someday is soon
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
Why pucker the Doll which does not puck back
Was what they told me through the Window Pane
A-thinks they see Clear, keen on what they Lack
The Gauntlet needed to smash such Glass again
That dare you cut your Friend's supposed Line
Just because he saw the Animals play
They are only Plastic; And Air inside
A Harmless Chapter your Youth needs today
Do you think I will Sing? And rend your Shame,
Whose Salary you know I won't enjoy
Good Lord, Man! Why must you label my Name
Like those Land Sharks who bite you out of Joy?
What do you need to tie the Ribbon Blue
That is your Colour; That should have been you.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 3:45 AM UTC
The dark winter sky was draped with stars whose dainty shimmer
mimicked the sprinkle of snow
caught up in the crisp winter breeze.
The white flakes winked as they came to rest upon a silent sheet of ice,
accumulating on the sleek surface until abruptly–
a clatter of loud and excited voices interrupted.
Skates slashed and
sticks crashed onto the cold, hard ice.
A black puck cascaded haphazardly across the rink, bombarding the once settled snow.
Chunks of ice catapulted recklessly,
the smell of sweat rose relentlessly into the wind.
Furious and frozen wisps of breathe were choked,
as bitter cold filled eager lungs.
The ruthless weather, however, could scarcely graze the laughing dimples on rosy cheeks.
But just as hastily the clatter was silenced,
the commotion halted.
Footprints crunched softly away, their noise secretly swept away
by the sprinkle of snow
caught up in the crisp winter breeze.
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 11:17 AM UTC
The flyers facing there cross-state rivals Pittsburg Penguins
Backup goalie emery in net starts of good then it turns for the worset
3-0 penguins i am wide eyed and mouth open stunned
then second period flyers score 4 goals
one by the capten, two by a deffense men, and the last by a rookie
Third period flyers get puck with one minute left the pensguins
Pull there goalie and sean couturier shoots it down the ice for
a empty net goalie game over flyers forge a 5-3 victory for the record books and prove they are better then the flyers
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
There was no joy in Mudville,
The air was cold that night.
For the hockey team was losing
And shorthanded, following a fight.
With 5 minutes on the penalty clock
And 1 minute left in regulation
It seemed as though the season was over
And the team would be heading to the unemployment line by the train station.
The next face off was won by Mudville,
And they dumped the puck down the ice
Wilson raced down after that 3 pound puck, and out of nowhere came Johnson, a pass to score as he fell down the ice!
Tied with about 30 seconds to go, the crowd gave an almighty roar
Because they tied the game shorthanded,
Johnson, a defenseman had scored.
The teams headed into overtime, and you could cut the tension in the air with a knife,
For in hockey overtime is sudden death, the next goal would win the night.
And after a 10 minute intermission, the teams returned to the ice
The referee skated out to center, and dropped the puck between two anxious Sticks.
The duel was on, and both goalies were tested
But neither one would fall for the forwards tricks
With overtime ended, we went to a shootout,
This seemed to be the only way to decide the game.
And after Wilson stepped back onto the ice, he scored giving Mudville a chance to win the game.
But Jeralds would tie the shootout in the second round, and Johnson, following him would do the same. So after a miraculous stop by Mudville's goalie, it would fall onto Casey to win the game.
A hush fell over the crowd, as Casey stepped onto the ice, he took a deep breath and started on his way,
He skated wide left stick handling down, his head up at the goalie trying to get him out of play.
Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright, The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light; And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout, But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey was shutout.
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 11:14 AM UTC
Only half watching the Sochi Olympics and
wondering why all of a sudden ice hockey
without brawling gap-toothed players
seemed so captivating as the puck was blocked
effortlessly by a graceful skating illusion
did I realize that behind that face mask and
and billowing raven hair was a bright-red
lipsticked beautiful face that totally shook
my floor. In my state of inattention I found
myself attracted to a hockey player
Scared the hell out if me until I realized that
it was women's competition
r ~ 9Feb14
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
This is
Almost all.
Cereal.
12 bites chocolate koala crispies
Chris along with some horizon
fat-free organic milk
but again 12 bytes.
Short stack flapjacks
Safeway maple syrup drenching it.
Patrick's IRA send it
One hot fudge sundae
from McDonald's
one half bite of hot fudge.
Six bytes of salsa recipe.
Four microwaved Chinese potstickers
Some HighC
orange lovers
I also ate Mark's soup
25 Cheetos
Xcessive?
I also ate some
of my accent.
One can Wolfgang Puck
used as a base
added some roasted
breast chopped
roughly 2 wings
scanner on onion
red rock refrigerator
did an onion
rings tile cut.
Think I know I'm
sorry sweetie
they are kind.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
Hairline cracks are breaking through
the slough I'm about to shed.
Dry and dysfunctional
as the neuron sac in my skull.
I'll change my hat and change my ammo
honeysuckle artillery polished,
waiting in my drawer.
Sliding an empty coffee mug
back and forth along a counter
like a puck preparing for a slapshot.
Paper matches in colourful books
pressed between the pages
found leaves for child arsonists.
Takeout boxes filled with poems
are sold as artefacts
Don't be silly, poetry comes in plastic bags,
not styrofoam.
To keep ideas hot, wrap them in tinfoil.
But don't forget to leave a hole at the top for steam
or your fresh concepts will get soggy.
Equipped with tennis *****
spandex suits picket office blocks
standing on chairs and voicing nearly racist remarks
making health and safety inspectors nervous.
Out of control students
launch dictionaries out of third story windows,
donning 21st century masks.
I left my patience beside my keys, on the kitchen table.
Waiting in line for obsolete phone booths
as movie stars soundlessly mouth slang into a receiver.
Nearly responsible
nearly nine
nearly time for bed
I resolve again
that I’ll resolve more
but this time write it down.
Folding kamikaze paper planes
to hide behind park benches, fly into trees.
Let the sun fade the pencil crayon.
I can't run from this blasé gangrene that’s taken my toes.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 2:02 AM UTC
Honey.
12 bites chocolate koala crispies
Chris along with some horizon
fat-free organic milk
but again 12 bytes.
Short stack flapjacks
Safeway maple syrup drenching it.
Patrick's IRA send it
1 hot fudge sundae
from McDonald's.
1/2 bite of hot fudge
4 bites soft serve.
6 bytes of salsa recipe.
4 microwaved Chinese
potstickers some
HighC orange lovers
I create Mark's suit.
1 can Wolfgang Puck
used as a base
added some chicken
******* roasted
chopped roughly
Spoon cut.
2 wings
25 Cheetos
Xcessive?
I also ate
my accent.
Scan him some onion
red rock ringed
Reiterate Beings
tile cut.
Think I know I'm
sorry sweetie
they are kind
Of sinking.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
I learned an important lesson
during a street hockey match.
Don't stand in front of slap shots.
Some runt boasted
of how powerful he could smack the ball,
and I howled with laughter, a hyena,
standing my ground,
confident as a peacock,
feet away from his stick.
I was a hockey god none could conquer,
and he, a puck peasant
whom I could smite with a single shot.
But then he slapped
The ball, Crack!
the start of a track meet.
From there my memory is as shaky
as my knees when the ball
crashed into my eye.
They say I wailed and crumpled
to the ground, clutching
away, feeling the stinging
tears come.
I tried to fight them,
but like the eternal rains
endured by Noah, down
they poured. I slunk home, head-hung
In shamed defeat.
I ran to the bathroom
to inspect my battle wounds,
and there in the mirror,
dark and purple as a stormy sky
was my first
Shiner.
Dec 26, 2009
Dec 26, 2009 at 11:20 PM UTC