Best Teammate Poems
I am a Peacemaker
Mother - let me teach my children humility
Woman - let my sensitivity calm others
Wife - let me be his lover, confidant and teammate always
Reikimaster - let me teach and practice the healing art of Reiki
Aura Photographer - let aura hues reveal health and future goals
Aroma therapist - let me breathe in the healing oils daily
Poet - let poetry inspire me and others to greater heights
Grandmother - let me teach my grandchildren through example
Giver - let my joy of giving warm hearts
Forgiver - let me always be first to forgive others
Stewardess - let my soul soar and remain in the clouds
Meditator - let me connect with the Angels and the Divine Spirit
Student - let me never stop learning new things
Dancer - let me dance with the joy music provides
Visionary - let me see the future through my third eye
Traveler - let me learn of different cultures
Astrologer - let the planets reveal personalities to benefit others
Nature Lover - let me value trees and plants as sentient beings
Romantic - let love always thrill me and fill me
Animal lover - let me help animals in need of compassion
Believer - let my faith in God continue to grow forever.
5-9-20
~First Place~
I AM: A LIST BIO CHALLENGE Poetry Contest
Sponsor Andrea Dietrich
My Teammate
Lead by the devil's strength
Our opponents won't be playful
we should not underestimate them
They are spun and solid as cutting iron
Baby, we should work on our games
Destroy our affection is their goal
Our relationship should be a shield
Our passion should be powerful as God
Let's win the World cup of Deep love
We'll break the gate of true love's house
The day of the final on the field of caress
There, we'll live the sweet loving life ever
The Federation will throne us with proudness
As the MVP King and Queen of the true Love
My lovely teammate, you'll be the center of emotion
Our story will stick on the wall of immortality
For those we lost
Nuzlocking Pokémon Red
This is a poem
To memorialize our dead
Rainbow
A level 4 Metapod
Caught with a single pokéball
Would grow to become
One of the best pokémon of all
Rainbow, the Butterfree
Evolved before our eyes
A valued teammate
We could never predict his demise
But in a simple trainer battle
Tackle was used by a Geodude
Rainbow had little HP
So we were screwed
A level 18 Butterfree
Was lost that fateful day
“Oh, Lord, what have I done?”
Was all his trainer could say
Kiedis
In a patch of grass
A level 16 Mankey we did find
Named after the great Kiedis
A spot on our team he was assigned
Immediately placed in the front position
Our hopes were just to high
A level 16 Rattata
Would force us to bid goodbye
Cross
He was selling Magikarps
This little old man
And we knew immediately
He’d fit in with our plans
Only a level 5
He was a trainee to be sure
But we were already imagining
Battles he could be used for
As a Gyarados, Cross caught us a Snorlax
Rosie would be her name
But we had no idea
She would be his last contribution to our game
A level 29 Electrode
Dealt a critical hit
And as Cross fainted
His trainer threw a fit
You were so young, Cross
Why did it have to be you
We could only pray
That Rosie would do
The Rest
And may we never forget
The Pokémon we lost fighting MewTwo
The ones who gave their lives
To bring the best finale to you
*For Adam Hepler*
running 12 men
24 in total, puffing carbon dioxide
inhaling oxygen from the outside,
shouting a teammate from the other side
watch that space
whistle,that one is playing offside
think should do that in practice,
spectators like that on the east side,
the players,
the passer-by
where is the wayside
not like sport field with pedestrian roadside
where should one pass?
in a broad daylight in the countryside
a day thinking within side
playing is preferably a cool weather alongside
small place
big planet
on a 45 degrees
rotating with a small country side
Saudade for friends I have lost
as I get older
I lose more people
every year
more people I knew
have died moving on
and I mourn their lost friendship
wished I had been
a better friend for them
and knew them better
and with the corona virus
spreading around the world
I will lose so many more
in the coming year
as the virus spreads
its malignancy far and wide
I lost my father due to cancer in 1985
and my sister
due to a freak illness in 2007
and my mother
due to Alzheimer’s in 2005
and my father-in-law as well in 2007
Demel Tucker
high school debate teammate
dead of HIV in 1995
Julian Bartley and his son
died in a terrorist bombing
in Nairobi in 1998
Jon Weber college roommate
dead due to prostate cancer
in 2000
Paul Simon friend from the visa line
dropped dead of a heart attack
in 2004
Ted Halstead
one of my best bosses
died of heart attack in 2007
Chris Richard
one of my former bosses
from my days in Bangkok
dropped dead of a heart attack
shortly before we were due
to have lunch in 2014
and so many others
I have lost
along the way
and soon there will be
so many more
as I get old in the corona era
The turf is wet.
Tinny rap splashes out, booming and the players are bouncing
Like boxers, ready for the air-balls
That they cleanly tap and set on the ground
With the surfaces of their cleats.
The rap is crashing.
The rain is dripping
From a sky done raining,
Just feeling sorry for itself.
Number 21 runs on the field
With a ball between her feet.
Meeting a teammate she fakes,
Jumps over the ball
Landing, sliding, beside it.
She does this twice,
Bent with elevation,
Her ponytail swinging.
Halftime.
21 has seen every white line on the field up close by now.
If not for the clean turf
Her jersey would be dirty and covered in mud.
Still fighting,
Number 5 scores.
We scream for her.
21 goes down again.
Up again.
She is half-crouched,
So close to her defender she is almost leaning on her as the ball flies
21 jumps incredibly, legs bent, and viciously snaps her head
Sending the ball at a different angle.
And 5 scores again.
21 goes for the goal in the next minute,
One of many runs.
"One rule: Don't hold",
I hear in my mind.
She bolts, bent to it,
Jumping over legs.
Lightning.
Sticky defense,
No go.
And again,
She takes it and runs,
Maradonna,
Spinning, tapping.
So close to a wrong-colored leg,
Split second evasion.
The shot flies down the middle.
Her toe rips a spray of black rubber
From the turf.
Too high.
In exasperation
She bends over,
Head by knees.
And straightens up,
Watching the keeper punt the prize.
She explodes out of the crowded center again,
Leaping but watching
For options.
The ball is sent,
Is slid back to her,
And nothing has taken any heart out of her.
End of the stride,
Slide,
Shot!
Deflected.
Volleyed hopefully.
In.
Top of the net.
I am sent in, full of excitement.
I start to congratulate the replaced player,
But she's singing,
Teasing me encouragingly.
"Yeah 28,
It's your birthday..."
21 is leaving the field also.
High-fives.
(Always high-fives...)
"Hey. Hey. Go score a goal,
Okay?"
Just that simple.
"To Have me or Have Not”.
I had a thought just crossed my mind/ a problem that never been resolved
A bitter taste a bitter cold
I don’t feel anymore remorse a path I had taken a road that was driven/ the toll
that wasn’t pay for /
Unsettled thoughts remains Cries of unsettled tears/ I left but not forgotten/
To Have me or Have Not”
Pick or choose? Which Direction would you take Route 101 or I-95 standing on
top of this bridge called the Golden/ Thinking of you while you take your new
companion to your new destination/ to look back I guess you have me in your
rearview and your new friend as your copilot. Why are we separated from each
other? I was the best competitor the Great Teammate.
"To Have me or Have Not”.
My pain my misery my shame the awful regrets the missteps and the mishaps/
"To Have me or Have Not”.
The Fog has thickens the cold temperature makes me feel like I reached Antarctica
I can’t see the body of water underneath. The suicidal thoughts inside of me the
broken bottle of Hennessy shatter on the ground/ tourists snapping images of me
as I extend my head first and my last breath of air was taken.
"To have something is only temporary everything and everyone has expiration"
"To Have me or Have Not”.
Written By JCMT 08/29/2014
I remember it
Like it was yesterday
When we first met
The introduction
The chills
The laughter
What does it matter
Love me or not
The last one didn't treat me right
So it is your turn now
Your opportunity
I'll give it a chance
It did not work before
Here we are a decade later
I feel like I'm blessed
Blessed with a chance to take it back
Remember I wouldn't kiss, touch and hold you
Now I can't let go
Your smell, your protection
It turns me on
No one has ever done that
Now, I don't think I want to go back
What you do for me
The places you take me
Not even sexually
You take me there intellectually
You are the man for me
Even when I can't stand you
You always pull through
No matter what pain we go through
My night in shining armor
My protector
My #1
Can't see myself without you
My better half
My teammate, my squad
I thank no one but GOD
For bringing us back together
Even if we do not understand why now
We have a beautiful family
We will show them how!!!
Spring has sprung, the fields have turned green;
He walks to the sunshine and stands on his dream;
He grew up in fields of brown earth and sweet hay;
But the ones he loved best were the fields made for play.
He thinks of his dad out driving his Deere;
He whispers, “Mom I love you, wish you were here.”
He salutes for his brother in a land far away,
Protecting our freedom, his hero in every way;
The butterfly’s grab him in the pit of his being;
It’s really sublime all these sights he is seeing;
He’s wished for this day from five years old;
He turns where he’s at, as the moment unfolds.
Looking up at the flag, waving in the breeze,
His mind wonders back to the fields of Albert Lea.
Never a happier day in the sun,
Then when the crops were all in and the game it was won.
Like cows to the barn the crowd ambles in.
Slowly the din rises as a crescendo begins.
Calmed by the noise and the business at hand,
He loosens his body, focusing his mind on the plan.
There’s banter and chatter, then a teammate to call,
“Hey! Let’s play catch, you got a ball?”
Soon he is limbered up loose, and ready to go;
A sprint to the steps and into the dugout below;
He paces the floor, awaiting the call;
Then the voice on the P.A. welcomes them all.
Leading off the left fielder Harding Clay! Leftfielder Clay echo’s away;
Harding, what a name, though it sounded just great to him today.
He removes his cap and faces the flag;
The anthem rings out in tones bright and glad;
It happens each time and he’s not sure why;
He can’t make it through without tears in his eye.
The awesomeness of it all envelopes his soul;
He silences the noise, regaining control;
The great race to become the champions of Fall;
Begins with the two sweetest words he’ll recall;
Play Ball!
August 13, 2019
Friday Night Check-ins
The days have been calm and collected.
The guests have been happy, content.
The weekday staff scurry out from the hotel
To avoid the upcoming event.
Weekend receptionists tremble
As the Friday night check-ins approach,
Fearing the tsunami of wrinklies
On their three-day excursions-by-coach.
The first vehicle’s brakes squeal their warning
As its door opens up with a sigh.
The girl at the desk and her male teammate
Watch the porchway with dread in their eyes.
The first wrinkly disembarks backwards,
Reaching up to be handed her Zimmer.
The scowl on her face giving more than a hint
Of the litany of protests within her.
Slowly the vehicle disgorges
Its fifty malcontent arrivals.
The front desk staff offer a brief heartfelt prayer
For their sanity, composure, survival.
Like an unerring wave of displeasure
The wrinklies shuffle in through the door,
Shoving aside anyone heading out –
They’ve made this manoeuvre before.
The party’s predominantly female,
Determined and far from benign.
Apart from one chap, in windcheater and cap
Looking hen-pecked and toeing the line.
They descend on reception like locusts,
Complaining, demanding and cackling.
The staff at the desk have nowhere to hide
From the surge of objections they’re tackling.
Ground floor room! No steps! Wheelchair access!
Why no lift? Single occupant! Porter!
The tottery old girl with the big Zimmer frame
Demands a young man to escort her.
The onslaught is tough and relentless
As the wrinklies press home their attack.
Then, deftly dealt-with, the tidal wave thins
As they head to their rooms to unpack.
Pleased with the way things were handled,
The reception-staff think they’ve survived.
But outside the lobby, brakes hissing with glee,
Another full coach has arrived…
Violence, drugs, and war
He wakes up and hears the lions roar
Encompassed by this world
His dreams no longer held
Seeing no way out
He decides not to move out
No, screams his patient he is supposed to save
No, says his client that would be in his is court case
No, shouts his teammate with whom he’d play
No, whispers his daughter who he should create
In unison they tell him of his better life
The Grass is Greener on the other side
It’s the final quarter
In this seventh game
From courtside to the bleachers
People are chanting my name..
I look at the clock
It reads only three
The score’s a deadlock
Everybody’s on their feet..
Not a second to waste
Coach calls for time
And we huddle in haste
‘Coz the game’s on the line..
He sets up the play
The ball goes to me
Of course that’s clear as day
‘Coz I am the MVP!
The ref whistles, ready or not
Teammate inbounds, passes, I catch
A few dribbles, split the double, then I pop
Swish! Game over, we win the match!
The crowd roars, the championship’s won
On my knees and in tears I rejoice with the team
But when I opened my eyes, boom! They’re gone!
Alas, just another dream..
Gunfire blasts as chiseled arms and legs
begin to rotate
Getting out and kicking is the key, one
mustn't hesitate
My leg is ALL mine to run and for me to
consume total control
I must run freely and fearlessly, I must
dig deep down within the depths of my
soul
Running this race isn't about selfish pride
and egoistic glory
It's about being true, doing my part and
running so that we all may get the victory
Yes! I must be careful and ready when
the baton is passed my way
My grip must be tight, my mind focused and
my heart in it for there mustn't be any
delay
I must receive, own and hone my leg like a
true winner
If I do otherwise, then all the work done before me
will mean nothing. The headlines will read,
"LOSER"
When my leg is done, I must do the right thing
and pass the baton
A carefully administered hand-off to my teammate,
just a token of unity... an attempt to cross the finish
line as ONE
As the feet pick up my body volts forward
Half seat telling him to keep going
The wind curls up throwing itself at me yelling slow
Trees towering around me
With every few strides the branches reach out to hit
Faster, faster
Picking up our pace we fly towards the waiting field
Grass so green it invites us forward
As a team we take the last few strides at the speed of light
Freedom
Pushing myself forward my teammate takes off across the field
The sky folds around us like a blanket
Blue as the ocean and larger than life
No resistance and no stopping
The world is as free as us
On the field of golden sands,
is a sport played with one’s feet.
A ball is kicked to one’s teammate,
to make a score, or avoid being beat.
The field lays right in the middle,
the two goals placed, outside the scene.
Players playing directly, with tenacity and passion,
as if, watched from a stadium, being seen.
Bouncing a ball, on top of their head,
or off their very knee, dribbling the ball, down the line.
The ball is passed from one to the other,
in hopes,of making the goal, from their, creative design.
The opponent deflects, and steals the ball,
To prevent the other team, to ever win.
No anger or hatred is ever shown,
with all enjoying themselves, with a friendly grin.
Smiling through a spectacular game,
if only, for a time, truly made brief.
Escaping the madness, of their world,
to find some kind of, temporary relief.