"quarterback" poems
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
All I do is win, for I'm an Ace
Painting a bulls-eye on everyone in the place
In my plane I leave everyone else
bailing out of the fight in disgrace
If I was a horseman, I'd be War
'Cuz like the card game
I win against Kings and Queens
and take them out of the deck
like the Joker on the sidelines, alone and bored.
I don't need a Diamond to win you Heart,
and I don't wanna join your Club,
this was skill and not luck from the very start
I am the Ace of Spades,
and I'll use my ***** to dig out your graves
I've been painted on the sides of planes
cars and trains
helicopters, submarines,
and the munitions that deal out the pain
I'm a trick shot Ace with the pool stick
As a quarterback, I've yet to throw a pick
As a pitcher, I make the other team sick
The starter and the backup plan
the Ultimate Ace in the Hole
The best card in a poker hand
lay me down and the money's in the bag
I run solo, streaking across the land
You only need to hold me in your hand
and your enemies will become ****
and I'll give 'em a taste
of this whirling dervish's mace
Leave them breathless upon the ground
as I rob the air from out of this place
you'll stand in awe of my greatness
take a picture, make a statue
Fill up every empty space with my name
For I am an Ace!
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 2:39 AM UTC
I sit back on the computer,
Browsing through the pages of those I grew up with
Those people who thought they knew everything about me
I sit back and see what they’ve made of themselves
This girl is single, living alone with her four cats
This other girl now has two kids, unmarried and no degree
This girl is engaged to her high school sweetheart, yet they don’t look happy
This other couple broke up, wait they’re back together, nope spoke too soon
This guy is working at the local supermarket, never went to college after his arrest
This guy gained a few pounds, no longer the star athlete
This guy dropped off the map
See being the quiet girl, I learned secrets
I knew the deepest secrets of every single one of these people
Because while they sat in the back of the room chattering on about their so called problems
I was sitting in the front,
Listening
This girl had two boyfriends, and even more flings
This girl slept with four guys in one night
This girl’s boyfriend cheated on her, over and over again
This couple would sneak off in between classes, during lunch, or school assemblies
This guy was the trophy child, who gave away free drugs to his friends hidden inside pens
This guy was the quarterback; everything handed to him on a golden platter
This guy was the school stud who was hiding a relationship with his boyfriend by sleeping with every girl he could
Back then I listened because I wanted to feel apart of something bigger
I wanted to be one of them,
I wanted to be invited to all those weekend bashes
I wanted to be the girl people felt awed by, inspired by, idolized
I wanted to be part of the “in” crowd
So I stood there, day after day
As they teased me
Berated me
Shattered my confidence
Tearing apart everything I was
Telling me I would never amount to anything
Telling me I was fat, ugly, stupid
That I unworthy of love
Telling me…
I
Was
Nothing
Let them tell me that today
I see everything of what they have become
Those people I wanted to be are no longer there
Their confidence shattered by reality
The best days of their life ended the day they left high school
Mine on the other hand are just beginning
I am the girl who is wanted
I’m the girl who can go wild
I’m the girl who can be passionate
I’m the girl who is adventurous
I’m the girl who brings pride
I’m the girl who is the athlete
I'm the girl who travels the world
I’m the girl who is unashamed of who I am
Because by pushing me out
My oppressors gave me everything I needed
The strength to try
The courage to dream
The ability to think
The confidence to be unique
Independence to thrive
But more than anything
My oppressors gave me desire
Desire to be more than they believed I could be
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
I can't ever imagine giving my heart up again. once I gave you mine you were so careless with it, you were my quarterback but fumbled every time
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 6:05 AM UTC
a high school football game.
the field is ablaze with juicy roses
and doves.
the athletes suddenly drop thier pencils,
their coughing hands made of melting wax.
all the trombones are falling apart, and
the flute players are losing their *******
under the bleachers, throwing away secrets.
heartbeats cracking broomsticks, the nuns
were always hitchhikers with resounding
gag reflexes.
i sail forward, snatching the time bomb
from the quarterback, snuffing out
a pall mall on his right eyelid.
the dead angel is summoned to slay
the horrible hippopotamus. she is ancient.
she has a mouth full of cavities and peace
in her veins.
the truth is a piercing thing, whose bitter tongue will decay me.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
****** boy, ****** boy
You're playing with the wrong toy
That truck is only for the boys
Lost girl, Lost girl
Put on a pink dress, spin around and twirl
That's what you're supposed to do
****** boy and Lost girl
They're one person, their life is unfurled
A hell washed over hir and now hir head's underwater
H. I. R.
Not a her or he clearly
And I want to just scream, no
But ****** boy put down that toy
Lost girl, go put on that dress and twirl
My mind says trucks and mud
But the bigger people say to twirl
And so I twirl
Around this world, placing my feet on the continents
Singing to the oceans as I glide on top of them
And so I twirl..
But maybe I want to watch while my daddy's fixing our car
And maybe I don't twirl the way all the girls do
Maybe I have a rougher, less eloquent twirl
But Maybe I want to listen as my brother's talking football plays
And maybe I don't have the brightest, girliest smile
Maybe I've got one only fit for a boy
Maybe I want to play with trucks until the sun hides
Maybe I want to be the quarterback on the field
Maybe... I want to make cities in the sand box
Maybe it's because... I am a boy.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 11:52 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
Sitting there yesterday at the football game,
Watching my son tackling the quarterback,
Feeling the warm sun and watching him earn respect,
From his teammates, made my heart proud.
Looking around, I saw the cheerleaders, 11 yrs old, too.
Yelling and flipping and shouting.
Then from nowhere, "My glitter is sweating off!"
Makes me laugh outloud.
Little kids running everywhere,
Parents watching their kids, visiting,
It was a great scene!
Until I looked down in this sneezing little boys face,
And watched him scoop up some boogers
and have a snack.
Looking back I suppose it is only to be expected
as part of the scenery, and I can laugh now.
Just as watching the cheerleaders commenting,
And the poor kid who pulled a groin muscle,
Hobble off the field, is part of the scene.
All in all, a beautiful day, fun, family, and reality all at once.
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 3:56 AM UTC
I kiss girls under side hallway lights
I kiss girls who make me swear not to tell
I kiss girls who kiss boys
"Its not you....... I just can't have anyone know"
I kiss girls who cheer in short skirts for boys on teams
"Its the stigma that comes along with this that I'm scared of"
"God you're pretty when you're silent"
I kiss girls who date the quarterback
I kiss your girlfriend
I do it because she smells like a secret
I do it because her lips taste like the sky
I do it for the stigma
**** the stigma
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
A firefighter afraid of heat,
A quarterback afraid of a football,
A speaker afraid to project,
A musician afraid to perform,
A lawyer afraid of court,
A teacher afraid of chalk,
An astronaut afraid of space,
A hair stylist afraid of scissors,
A bus driver afraid to drive,
A doctor afraid of needles,
A mother afraid of children,
A lover afraid to love.
We’re told we can be whatever we want to be,
But you must see,
That it is more important to do what you want than to try to overcome fears just to live up to expectations.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 4:50 PM UTC
The innocent pig! Slaughtered in the blood stained room.
The man stands over the corpse and laughs.
Slowly
he peels the skin off the pig,
scolding the dead for pig her small imperfections.
For some game, that needs fresh skin.
The surface of her body and soul, in
a grey factory fit over a mold by a
person who has delt with tens of thousands
of innocent pigs and can only see the skin.
A conveyor belt takes thousands of animals,
whose only fault was being too heavy, into a drying room.
The pigs not animals but objects now, slaughtered
for entertainment.
The “vegetarian” football player takes
the skin of the poor mama pig and chucks it to his friend.
The misguided soul! Taught tediously to truly think that
the typical time of the gentle piglet far better spent dead
than to live a hellish life, nor will this soul know the
pig is both dead and lived a hellish life.
A hole in the pigs skin and hollow air rushes free.
Punted away into the woods.
Again and again.
The game starts.
The chubby guys line up and smell each others breath,
both sides scream like monsters and charge at each other,
they don’t punch each other, so it’s civilized.
The skinny guys also line up next to each other,
trying to outrun the other guy, yeah
I say guy because society is sexist but moving on,
so they try to outrun each other, one guy in an attempt
to not allow the person to catch the thin layer of pig skin.
The guy running forward tries to get the quarterback (basically
the star of the team the guy with dreamy hair and a nice body
who is either a cool guy or a ****
to toss him the hollowed out pig skin, so can run and look cool
until another “light” 180 pound guy tackles him to the ground.
The stands, all criminson red, go wild,
Fist bumping, jumping up and down, beer drowning the floor,
at the sight of the guy with the dreamy body
tossing the misshaped ball,
to the guy who just hand the wind
smashed
out of him.
Yes this is all football.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
I hear the screeching sound,
Of the rioting crowd roaring like a lion,
When the weathered football is kicked,
Falling down like a missile,
Touching earth.
I see the opposing offence,
Passing for desperate yardage,
As our insane defense,
Forcefully sacks the quarterback,
In the backfield,
Providing our team with momentum.
I feel of the cold,
Icy wind as the ultimate play is about
To unfold,
As we play the fourth quarter.
The excruciating pain,
Of deliberately being bowled over,
By a linebacker with such vigorous
Power,
That your helmet is knocked off.
The relief of winning,
A difficult ballgame,
As we celebrate,
Another outstanding victory.
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 12:48 AM UTC
"good luck," they think it means.
brides, grooms, hell, even the kids in the club.
and the notion that the phrase comes with the
shattering of glass under a custom print napkin--
just wrong.
it's important to be mindful of what mazel tov means in
that moment, sure, but it's also
important to be mindful of what mazel tov
means in the everyday. the ritual.
see, mazel tov means "what good fortune."
and I know, I know, sounds pretty
**** close to "good luck."
but think about the glass.
all these tiny pieces to pick up
and you say, "good luck."
have fun picking up the shards.
don't cut your finger.
saying "good luck" in that moment
makes you an *** but "what good fortune"
sounds like you got something up your sleeve.
and you should. in this life, always. always
a few tricks. you know when I was little,
my mother asked me what I wanted to be
when I grew up and I told her, I said,
"I want to be a magician."
her response, "you can't do both."
she's right. that's no profession for an adult,
but you can be an adult and a
magician on the side, as a hobby,
that's alright.
wait.
what was I talking about?
magicians, magicians, oh. tricks.
how else are you going to get by?
mazel tov is a mind trick.
see, we say "what good fortune"
when the glass breaks to reframe the
situation. what's your reaction
to that sound? your ears perk up--
if ears can actually do that, I don't know--
the hairs on your neck stand up.
I guess they can't really stand in the conventional
sense, but, well, you feel the space of a room.
and after that beautiful sound, and I mean beautiful,
you are forced to take everything else into account.
you don't want anything else to break. what matters most,
you know? that's why we say "what good fortune."
I'm delighted to know something as worthless
as glass has broken. because now I'm more
careful with what's valuable to me. right?
you spill soda on a cloth seat in your new car.
mazel tov.
now you don't have to be paranoid
every time your nephew climbs in with an Icee.
it's material crap. just crap. you're alive.
you've got a car. be thankful for what you have.
reframe, you know?
your girlfriend, your wife leaves you for a
former high school quarterback turned
owner of a lawn service company.
another casualty of the sweaty, lemonade-fueled fantasy.
once again, mazel tov.
you are so lucky you didn't spend the rest
of your life with her. the glass shattered.
it's a beautiful sound.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC
Do you want to know the truth?
The truth that hurts?
The truth you don't want to hear?
Here it is!
I am not a Dallas Cowboys fan.
There, I said it.
If you want my opinion on the Dallas Cowboys,
I'll be more than happy to give it to you.
They will not win another Super Bowl,
at least they won't in my lifetime.
In my prediction, they won't win for a hundred years,
long after I am gone, and long after you will be gone.
The days of Aikman, Irvin, and Smith are as long gone
as Tom Landry, and the use of that stupid hat.
Yes, I do know the wild, wicked history of what people call "America's Team",
the very same way an Atheist with a degree in theology knows the Bible.
Ask me which player snorted ******* during the Super Bowl
under the watchful eyes of millions of television viewers,
and I'll tell you that same guy ended up winning the Texas Lottery.
Ask me the name of the kicker that fooled around with a little girl,
ask me what Michael Irvin was doing on his 30th birthday,
ask me this, ask me that, and I will tell you,
and you will know that I will never love the Dallas Cowboys.
No sir, not when they currently have a wide receiver
with a tendency to lay hands on his mother.
Yeah, I know. That was a year ago. But still, he hit on his mother,
and I will never wear that scumbag's jersey
or shake hands with him if I saw him in person.
You may think I have a problem, and yes I do have a problem.
It's the Dallas Cowboys that I have a problem with.
They should never be on a football field
and call themselves America's Team
when they don't even have the best quarterback in football.
That's right. Tony Romo is a no-good prima donna
who will never live up to people's expectations.
Hell, he ain't half as good as Don Meredith,
and did Don Meredith win a Super Bowl?
Did Danny White win a Super Bowl?
Neither will Tony Romo.
Like I said, the Cowboys will never win another Super Bowl.
That's the truth, and if you can't handle the truth, then that's too bad!
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 7:22 PM UTC
Quarterback, football team
Cute smile, James Dean
Drives me crazy, daydream
Blond hair, brown eyes
"I promise, no lies"
My day, blue skies.
I think, seeing stars.
Holds me, strong arms.
We're here, too far?
What happened, to you.
You changed, it's new.
I loved, you too.
He speaks, I look.
Love story, short book.
My heart, he took.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
Stay you
Stay true
Change not
Others has been in your shoes and got talked about and criticized too!
Be different.
Why be the same?
Even twins hates dressing the same way.
Others has faced comments for being different
Critiqued for drawing attention by those seeking control.
Muhammad Ali, totally tested authority of rules.
Got talked about by the same kinds crying about your sportsmanships of being different.
Stay being Cam.
When others cries about your ways.
Goe Rhett Butler and say, you don't give a ****
James Harris, Warren Moon and Jefferson Street Joe Gilliam all went before you.
And was questioned about being a quarterback too!
Notice if let to some you be playing a different position.
Doug Williams, changed all that when he became the first Superbowl winning quarterback.
Sure you could cave in and pretend the act of a Russel Wilson simply to be liked.
But being Cam is what you most in life should always be like?
Cause the press media doesn't pay your bills at night.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 12:41 PM UTC
You rushed in like a quarterback carrying the ball
Like a rookie I fell for the fake play
Hook, line, and sinker, I foolishly bought it all
It seemed like a game that started out fair
Fans all abuzz claiming "This is our year!"
Now the bleachers stand empty, not a soul left to cheer
Nothing left but to turn off the stadium lights
On a field that was once so hopeful and bright
Off to the locker rooms both teams retreat
One to lick their wounds as the other celebrates the championship repeat
In glory you'll go on to play for more teams
While this career-ending injury is killing my dreams
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
When I was little, I stuck scissors into the electrical outlet
something I never would have had the urge to do if my parents hadn't told me it was dangerous
I was a rocket pop, always standing too close to the edge,
always carrying a matchbook in my pocket
I'm not the only one who flirts with death
Death is the quarterback, death is the prettiest girl on the cheerleading team
Death is popular at parties
And when someone seems so out of my reach like that, I tend to romanticize them
So I fantasized about pills that shone like pearls
I envisioned ribs sticking out from my skeletal frame, finally frail enough to ****** the object of my desires
I thought about razor blades scattered like flower petals on the bathroom floor
Etching memento moris into my skin
I dreamed of fenders and pavement rushing up to meet my lips for one last kiss
God, I had the biggest crush on death
But so did everyone else
And I saw them falling further in love as if they were tumbling from a skyscraper
This is not a love poem, this is a goodbye
Because I have instead become infatuated with beautiful things
I am a creator, so I must stop destroying myself
Dear death
I don't want to be just another girl who doesn't look when she crosses the street, hoping to meet you on the other side
I will be okay on my own, and I'll keep the scissors locked up in the craft cabinet
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
Friday night
Beneath the lights
The boys are set to go
The scouts are out there watching
It's time they got a show
Football in a small town
It's religion out of church
To find something open Friday night
You'd really have to search
The busses all are lined up
Down the street around the school
Alumni selling t-shirts
With old logos by the pool
There's a game that rivals football
That you can't see from the stands
It's make out time beneath the bleachers
While the fans are clapping hands
No flags for interference
Off sides, no way not here
The players don't wear protection
And in between they're drinking beer
The quarterback he steals the show
Making passes on a line
The college scouts are hovering
That must be a good sign
The smell of deep fried everything
It lingers in the air
There's flasks of Jim Beam passed about
without a single care
The band performs a drumline
Keeping beat for those below
The ones not playing football
The kids hidden from the show
Each Friday night it happens
Two rivals meet in church
And somewhere beneath the bleachers
Some poor kids left in the lurch
There's a game that rivals football
That you can't see from the stands
It's make out time beneath the bleachers
While the fans are clapping hands
No flags for interference
Off sides, no way not here
The players don't wear protection
And in between they're drinking beer
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
Number 12 we trust
Lead us to the Superbowl
Yeah Aaron Rodgers
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 12:16 AM UTC
*Plunge, colder+deeper, illuminosity, shame, boats,
fear, family, disappointment, roots, train,*
**Lights,
Camera,
Action:**
When you told me, “no”
you called me ******
and you became the Quarterback
you used to be.
You refused to watch
my musicals because football
“What real men do, boy”
ran in your blood.
So, I swore never to forgive
the blood that named me
your son because you threw
a pass and I didn’t have hands.
Winter was cold and the stage
was warm, unlike pigskin goose bumps
or Gatorade that you tried
to force onto my hands.
Then you finally came
to watch me sing
in Les Miserables and
you wept, warm tears.
“Proud of you, son”
you cried, and we wept
and my cold heart thawed
because of bloods warmth.
**Lights
Camera
Scene.**
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 5:21 PM UTC
They say you must try
and never give up.
What they don't say is:
it's not that easy.
They let you on your own
to figure out that
trying is just as hard as
being a quarterback;
making the best dessert;
or even standing up and speaking.
I must put effort
and work
and responsibility
and dedication
into trying.
I do not think
I have the strength for that.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 11:59 PM UTC
*Bus poems are shorties written on the way home,
riding the M31 thru Manhattan. Often silly, often not...*
There is a contest that does not involve my P.S.F.
(Preferred Sport Franchise) this weekend,
truly don't give a good ****** who wins,
but that is no excuse to deny me my sir sore-losing,
victim status,
so richly deserved.
A triumvirate of doctor, g.f. and medical tests,
have on the field ruled,
once a year, a conjugal visit permitted,
tween my arteries and chicken wings.
there will pigs in blankets demanding attention,
potato knishes, and cole slaw juices, and a
foreign dignitary, Sayyid Cous-Cous,
lining up along side the quarterback who will be
'winging' honey and spicy passes to his favorite receiver,
this couch coach and impartial observer.
This is my Sunday fare.
If insufficiently highbrow,
for all you poetic aesthetes,
have no fear,
this athlete gastronomic,,
victim of his victuals,
will prepare mentally
by hanging with King Lear once more,
sharing a verbal tasting menu,
the day prior,
who once called me,
at a Giant super bowl party,
*“A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a
base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
and the son and heir of a mongrel ***** one whom I
will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
the least syllable of thy addition.”*
― William Shakespeare, King Lear
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
I don't watch anymore
when the quarterback goes down
I know beyond a doubt
there's flags upon the ground
PC is now the rule and such
the game a sham and joke
not worth watching, all that much
rules and penalties now broke
I'm glad I'm not a linebacker
confused and so unsure
hit or no hit the NFL
brown is the PC flag
of ******** and
manure
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 9:13 PM UTC
He has lips
That can make a girl's knees
Turn to water
So everyone ignores
The other things about him.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC