Ode to a
Puck
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Small, black, vulcanized rubber,
Chunk of coal on the white
Of the snowman, of the floor.
You are my archenemy.
Slipperier than you look, you bounce
To catch me off guard.
You are devious, and I realize
I must be sharp at all times to
Best you.
But that is just why I choose to do battle.
Few thrills lie in
Defeating a threat that isn’t.
You know, instinctively,
Where I am most vulnerable
And unprotected, and like an
Angry hornet, you sting
Causing red welts on my body.
I wonder how you know, when not even
I realize my weaknesses.
You have broken those
Before me, fraying nerves
That should have been of steel.
You have caused many
A nightmare for those of my kind;
We see you
Going past us, again, and again, and yet
Again.
You drive us mad,
But we cannot leave you alone.
O puck, you are small,
And I in my padding
Am much larger,
But somehow you squeeze past me
Far too often for my liking.
Just beyond my grasp, I see you dance
With glee, then bury yourself in
The net. My net.
I am not appreciative.
You are putty
On the sticks of forwards I face.
You outmaneuver me, and yet
I will master your tricks.
You cannot last long against
My cat-like reflexes.
I will snag you from your mid-air flight, and
You will smother within my glove,
A shattered image of
Your former self.
A smudge of soot upon a clean
White jersey, that’s all you are.
Though you defy me, joining forces
With those enemy forwards,
You cannot win.
Your cause is lost, little ink blot.
Your days are numbered.
For
I AM GOALIE.
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The
Goalie
-------
(Modeled after Donald Hall's poem, The
Child)
She lives among her teammates,
her gear, and her crease.
Alone, she waits.
She stands at attention, guarding
the yawning net at one end
while her teammates battle
to get the puck,
and she is secure in
the knowledge of her skills.
She hears the murmur
of the crowd.
She appreciates their support, if only subconsciously.
She plays with all her might,
plays only to win.
She is her team's backbone.
When she is on her game
she only reacts
and that is all she wants.
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Tasha
----
I hear the clawing.
The screen pops and gives way.
Her beleaguered yowl awakens me,
Interrupting precious slumber.
Reluctantly I rise;
I open the window.
Fuzzy and silver-gray,
With whiskers and twitching tail,
Round green eyes
Glowing in the night.
Soft velvety coat vibrates
Rubbing contentedly against my hand.
Damp earth floats on the breeze.
The sweet smell of springtime rain dances in.
I lift her close.
She tastes of the wild outdoors,
She is the sun, the wind, the rain.
Every night I listen at the window.
But she is not there now.
I miss the portal we shared.
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