Best Linebacker Poems


Private Party

College party red cups  all across the room.
we caught each others eye.
Inbetween  dances  if eyes were a camera they'd 
be caught in zoom.

I know you came here with another guy.
Sixfoot four football player.
Tried to say whats up but blockhead just told 
me hey jerk dont even try.

But when the doors locked the window will always 
work.
Time to make ya smile and make your roomate  
smirk.

We'll stay up allnight andi dont mean watching laurel  and hardy.
Just put a tie on the door handle.
Cause this a private party.

No people no chips and cheap beer.
Will play hide in seek in the dark.
Honey iI hate to say it's no aciddent i just
grabbed your rear.

Just as the real fun had just begun  sombody 
kicked in the door.
It was that linebacker and his band of unmerry knuckleheads 
All pissed off and standing six foot four.

Punches thrown  and more than feelings were hurt
as my  private party came to abrupt end.
Thrown from a window.
Impaled on a garden gnome
Does anyone have a hopital they can reccomend.

At the ER I met this hot  nurse.
Who had a mini pharmacy hidden 
in her purse.

I knew it wasnt good when she gave me a pill and said 
Oh no.
got put in the nut ward  spent the night 
talkin to my left toe.

Caught a ride  home with my best
friend Marty.
He said man what caused all this.
And I replyed  I was trying to have a private party

Premium Member Looking For Something

I am an old man
a deep well
an epoch marriage
a raven haired beauty
five above average kids
Orion deckhand and cook
teacher of the year
Bible study leader
jail preacher
song worship leader
NAU graduate --graduate school
ASU graduate --undergraduate school
life guard
breakfast cook
English tutor
Archie Brokeshoulder's well puller 
grain elevator operator
pizza chef
dishwasher
mental hospital patient
prisoner
welder
all region linebacker
wrestler
pole vaulter
3 high schools
4 jr highs
2 elementary schools
8 states
2 dads
5 moms
6 sisters
4 brothers
13 presidents

I am an old man
I'll swim a mile
this morning
and dance 
all night
golf tomorrow 
backpack Europe
visit kids in Montana
come back to Arizona
visit kids in Kentucky
do more Europe
come back to Arizona 
swim and golf
then who knows
India, Nepal, Tibet
I am an old man
looking for something

Linebacker

he blocks and shields
victory on many fields....
the power he wields


Lions True Blue

A die hard fan I have been. Remember thinking, 16 games 17 weeks, even the Lions will pull off a win. Preseason champs yes we might of been. But 0-16 meant a lot more my friends. That year is gone and history has been made. But as for my fan-hood it shall never fade. I've stomped through the bad waiting for the good. Draft another W.R., you really think we should? Memories of number twenty, how he'd Barry the pride of the D. He's the greatest King, but more yet he's the Legacy. So what we haven't seen the playoffs since the year of 99. The roar has been restored with Detroit City feeling floored. Another trip to the red-zone w/ options unlimited. What number you think claims the most Detroit fitted? Two arms go up as they see the corner route. Jump ball to eighty one, so easy it's fun. When the linebacker bites at LeShoure and the smash. Hit Pettigrew in the middle, you been played like a fiddle. As the D.B's seem overwhelmed when Stafford takes helm. The most heart in the game, our Iron man puts your Q.B. to shame. Now to turn to the D, what do we see? Delmas w/ a pick 6 from 103. As Fairley and Ezekiel sit stalking there prey, looks like Suh just stomped your last hopes, on this very day. Like Hanson's dedication, a Lions roar is what I'm saying. All the cheese heads realize this, pasteurized to the Superbowl we go. No doubt we will finish our goal. Finally a man named Schwartz has took control. Please all of you fans that have been TRU , join me now in a, HEY GREEN BAY **** YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Premium Member I Want To Be a Nutcracker

"I want to be a nutcracker!"
Came my announcement one day.
I won't need the strength of a linebacker
to make my chosen profession pay.

"I want to be a nutcracker!"
Grasping them tight like in a vise.
Even the big ones, I'd call a 'wacker.'
I might have to squeeze those twice.

"I want to be a nutcracker!"
Those that are ripe enough for picking.
With every blow, I'd be the attacker,
getting all the sweet meat by pricking.

"I want to be a nutcracker!"
It's a job at which I'd excel.
I'd earn the title, 'Best Nut Smacker,'
when they shout, "That hurt like hell!!"

"I want to be a nutcracker!"
I'd be picky ‘bout the ones I'd choose.
No one would ever call me a 'hacker,'
for when I'm done, there'd never be a bruise.



*Thank you, Caren Krutsinger, for graciously agreeing to allow me the use of your title.  We took different forks at the crossroad. ;-)
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Leatherhead

I’ve always had a bit of a linebacker mindset in spite all the poetic pretense.  In another life, I suppose I would have made a living ripping the heads off of sissy quarterbacks.  I’ve always fancied myself charging at a problem like an angry rhinoceros.

Alas that great career never evolved.  My knees and ankles had other plans.  But I always think back to the best compliment I ever received.  It was a friend who told me that he always visualizes me in one of those old fashion leather football helmets.  I imagine I was probably being a hard head.  I guess I always have been old school even though I wear a progressive’s garb. 

Sometimes just smile
and take the damn compliment
it won’t come again


Media and Tv

social media and television shows, whad'a you know
where did all tha'old tv shows go

i love lucy and dallas with ms ellie
it was best when there was regis kelly

jerry springer and the uks jeremy kyle
was it just me...or did anyone else like the green mile

oh my the honey mooners and mr ed
...this one's not old, but now there is ted

'murder' backwards, so they call it 'red rum'
a pawn show with a person name chum

bill cunningham, who always say 'put the cheese on the cracker'
ray lewis, the ravens linebacker

...then there is youtube, from cheers to ridicule
and oh my facebook?...the things people say can be so cruel

game shows and pranks galore
...i am curious, will there be more

MEdia AND TV
it's just too much to see

Premium Member Baxter

That dog bares his teeth
but don’t you know, he’s nose to nose
with a very long kid
who grew up with him

I try to rub his fur
as he runs along, never looking back
meanwhile he
plays kissy-kiss with the linebacker

I grab him bold
a paw stumbles over each hand
his teeth in a fitful state
scores my forearm and hand

Still if I have a chip,
he hears the crunch, knows I might toss
it on the floor
because he goes all in if I finger-feed

I picked up the Sports page,
not to hit, I’d never…
but to put between me and him
does the trick

The kid’s not the alpha…
neither am I, but someone better be.
My sis snatches him up,
“Good Dog, Baxter.”

Who are you kidding…bad dog…bad dog
but he’s a nice bit of fur,
looks like an ewok —
he’s working it for a chip…

1/10/2022
*Name of the dog’s changed to protect the innocent
or is it the guilty…lol

Premium Member Angel Knew What She Was Doing

I count on angels. They speak to me.
Not in voices, but telepathically.
They do not leave me alone until I do certain things.
I know it is an angel due to their persistent tenacity.

Call Toni. I think “later”, but then I hear “call Toni now.”
It is not a voice, it is an insistence, and it does not let up.
Invariably, there is a reason. 

One time I heard an angel give me directions.
She wanted me to take a library book back. The library was closed.
I had sat down for the first time in six hours. My children were bathed.
I did not want to. The voice did not let up. 

I asked my husband to take the library book back. 
He refused, saying it was already after hours. We would pay the fine.
The voice kept yelling at me. Louder and louder.
I drove to the library, furious with my husband.

When I arrived it looked like there was a rumble.
Terrified, I went to a back entrance, jumped out, put the book in the slot.
Ran to my car, and tried to escape before I was killed.
The mob surrounded my car.

The mob was fourteen teenagers. They were screaming and crying.
I rolled my window down and asked what was happening.
They told me they were from out-of-town. They had been to the mall.
They were supposed to meet at the busses at nine o’clock. 
It was 9:07 p.m. They had no idea how to get back to the mall.

The angel knew what she was doing.
She had to find a woman with a big car.
She had to find a woman who was petite, not scary.
She had to find a woman who would break down to badgering.

I was driving the largest station wagon ever created.
I hit the “unlock” button and said “jump in.”
I turned that car and we raced to the mall.
As I came up to six busses with some really worried adults
We were screaming and laughing. I was honking. The girls were yelling.
Some had their arms out the windows.

They were so grateful, I have not forgotten it.
The angel knew not to send my husband.
He is looks like a linebacker and is six foot four.
I have never forgotten how this angel sent me
in March of 1980 to save fourteen girls from Mt. Ayre Iowa.

Premium Member I Should Have Known Better

I have my second graders coloring cutting and gluing.
It is taking them quite a bit of time. They are chatting too.
This is counseling class, I encourage socializing.
I arrived five minutes early and let the substitute teacher have a break.
He thanked me and hotfooted it out of there double time.
The regular teacher asked if I could switch days, so she would get this break.
It is not my fault she is not here at 3:30 on a Wednesday.
I could not accommodate her request. I have classes at 3:30 daily.
Every teacher tries to get a 3:30 spot, because we leave at 4:10.
A child notices that Mr. H is gone. He is seven foot and two inches tall.
He is built like a linebacker. They apparently all missed him leaving.
“Where is Mr. H?” I say “I hope the aliens did not get him.
Mistake!
They are now arguing with each other- whether or not aliens are real.
I should have known better.

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