One sad day, some years ago,
I got news that my father passed away.
He lived a long and happy life,
so I felt joy and sadness on that day.
Perusing a box of photographs and things,
his drawing, a poignant feeling, would evoke.
In his childhood crayons, it was beautiful -
a tree that seemed to be an oak.
Between a person's years of birth and death,
there's only a hyphen left to show,
but, in my father's unexceptional life,
he left something more - I know.
My brothers and I, quite frankly,
I would not celebrate.
Many fathers before and after him,
by having offspring, regenerate.
Yet, when I was a boy of nine,
My dad would, my brothers and me, provoke,
by planting in our front yard football field,
a native sapling, a California oak.
That tree is now my favorite brother,
huge, but kind and strong,
hosting an entire ecosystem,
with squirrels, and birds, in song.
In their short life upon this earth
many want to build a legacy.
Here is my advice for them and those.
On a sunny day, go plant a tree.
Coach Z is a formidable opponent on the football field.
In a team full of women, she stands out as aggressive.
Her coach and she have not agreed on many things.
During the school year she is also a PE teacher, so she knows things.
The coach called her over and told her she was off the team.
Many of us feel it is because she knows more about football.
Here is the excuse he gave her.
“because you have too much attitude.”
Too much attitude to play football?
We who heard scoffed.
Poetry should be easy to read
you don’t have to make it all frilly
No need to be filled with fancy words
whether you’re serious or silly
You can talk about a snowy day
the hard pouring rain or bright sunshine
Just put your feelings down on paper
hell, it doesn't even have to rhyme
You can talk about your dog or wife
perhaps your cat or even your horse
Talk about your neighbor (maybe not)
the football field or the new golf course
Don't be afraid to let people read
though there’s some folks that might laugh at it
But hey, at least you wrote a poem
while most of them guys didn't do ****
So get out a pen and some paper
or typewriter if that's what you got
Cause the key to doing something right
is to practice...and practice a lot
In a quiet trailer park,
Just a short walk from the middle school
Where we all felt our way
Through literature, science and math,
Often silent during the worst –
Passing, but only with average scores
Our hearts were full of touchdown dreams
Moments, startled awake by the echoing
Laughter and peace – seas of smiles,
Trembling promises of the ten yard line,
Then, the fumble…
Playing throughout the evening,
Yearning for June, summertime broken
By the short stabs of thunderstorms,
Rain falling, kissing away the breathless
Promise from morning’s light, easing
Its way from golden to gray, from tender
To awake like the shaky huddles
Trailers, thin walled and easily injured,
Like bones who fall beneath the scrambling
Starry eyed – wistful and just breathless
Tackling the edge of insanity
With two hands, two arms, two – hopeful
Winning – it isn’t sinning…
Winning, running on the field who holds
Hopes and dreams, fantasies…
Blessings to hearts who know, even though
Trailer parks don’t shout success,
Often, that football field spells the best…
Champion, leader … the score of a winner!
J A R McKellar 'FOOTBALL FIELD EVENING'
OOO OOO
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Watching a Buffalo Bills game Last night.
I was shocked to see a player down!
Lying on his back, to our surprise!
We hoped, You get up from the ground.
It was more serious then we knew.
As you were fighting for your life.
As the Nation prayed for you.
Praying you would live, not die.
Two opposing teams stopped and prayed.
Never witnessed on a football field.
Compassion and love were shown that day.
As Humanities finest hour, was revealed.
Michael Tor
Since his injury his Toys for Kids
Charity has received Six million
dollars more and is growing
at 6000 dollars an hour.
Please pray for Damar Hamlin
he suffered a serious injury
playing football for the Buffalo
Bills against the Cincinnati Bengals.
Skinny kid
stands on football field
sacked
There was a dear November long ago
Tucked on the top shelf with my good stuff
Along with the other fond sentiments
Good books and pictures go hand in hand
But that first Fall in college was a keepsake
Now and then, I open that box
I see graying skies over a football field
And our losing season in the mud
And a student juggling school, practice, and work
I can say I bobbled that ball infamously bad
Which mirrored the Portland weather
I fished for nirvana, and the line snapped
But I enjoyed that maiden voyage nonetheless
The bonding with fellow students
The first parties, dances, and romances
That first Thanksgiving with my roomies family
Yet for some reason, I remember less of school work
And more of a pumpkin patch
... and a rustic leaf falling to the ground
11/07/22
November Poetry Contest
Sponsor-Regina Mcintosh
N/A
Only man could spend more money on a football field than a hospital
Only man could say his dreams are tossible
Only man could say there's dreams more possible
Only man could know
NOT for loss of all
Give me a break, enough already!
Censure thrown round like confetti
On the biased philes and phobes
That sit between my ear lobes
Oh! I’ll come clean I’ve prejudice
In choosing whom to hug and kiss
When England take to football field
I pray the other side will yield
But not within my catechism:
Pre judge with a rigid ‘ism’
Love each race no predetermines
All folk, even French and Germans
Gender? save in sporting race
Make your own choice of airs and grace
There is one sphere I must confess
(Enforced by no undue duress)
I make no bones on this decree
Unquestioned: WIFE SUPREMACY!
The people came to Alberton
To honour the man whose life was won
For he played the Port Adelaide way
And Russell Ebert won our hearts we say
His family spoke of growing up in the Riverland
A family who built a pride that still stands
On the football field a reputation made
From father to sons across all grades
Peter Woite spoke of the team man grand
Who set standards and knew the demands
And when his playing days were done
His Community work left a legacy number one
And Russell nurtured those he met
Focusing on what they did well yet
To always do good in this world
Was the thing that he upheld
Russell left the ground for the last time
And he was given a standing ovation so fine
And as Timmy Ginever said in the end
Our Number Seven’s gone to Heaven.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Ice that has been frozen
For decades is now melting
Due to global warming
Glaciers the size of a football field
Is floating in unchartered waters
It seems lost and at a stand still
With the thick ice that’s melting
Means that the water has to
Find a place to go, and with sea levels
Rising higher each year
Says a lot about the future
We probably will be living
Just like the people from the movie
Water world, dry land will be a
Thing of the past, while we live
On city size ships that floats around
From place to place
Leaving a vacant world deep
Into the depths of the sea
MAY 28, 2021
On the football field young Davy hurt his knee
Lots of excruciating pain, yes-sir-ee,
He is never a quitter
Says he is never fitter
Continuing playing to win is the key.
May 11, 2021
for "Quitters Never Win" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Margarita Lillico
Everyone holds hands
as they form a human chain
in the football field.
Poor doggy in the hard rain
no umbrella to hide the pain
housing society gates shoo them out
space under parked cars in knee-deep troughs
men and women stuck indoors, sip hot tea
children barred from school sing do re me
closed offices due to waterlogged streets
white and black clouds play hide and seek
sailed paper boats in the curly road water
drowned by waves of passing vehicle tire
memories of rain in the football field
chase the ball on wet grass, slide on the heel
a crow picks a crumb from claws of another
quickly beaks a crumb lying in a corner
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