Long Goalie Poems
Long Goalie Poems. Below are the most popular long Goalie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Goalie poems by poem length and keyword.
I sit here
In a place where I have no fear
Will there be another score?
Does the crowd want more?
Chelsea is on top
While Arsenal should not want to stop
The cheery contingent wants the action
And the goals in this spectacle is the attraction
If the favorite ticket ends up a pay
The pub fly will gladly say
“The pensioners are here, and they will gladly pick up the tab for the beer”
But there is more time to go, carry on let’s get back to the show
A penalty kick was the trick
And the home team was able to gleam
One nil that was a nice fill
But them Gunners made up for that bad mistake
Getting a break away that left Chelsea in their wake
One to one was the score
Will there be more?
As the gunner goalie picked shots off
The beer settled making the blue shirts wonder who’s at fault.
As I leave cash for my mealtime turkey
Chelsea needs a goal without Arsenal doing another thing dirty
Time ticks away
I do say
This match may be a push which would be pain in my toosh
But during the late stage
A goal was written by Chelsea on the EPL page
Not much later the gunners stole the sporting pen
And the blue shirts were not able to defend
Having two shots on goal without a miss
A clear message was made that the game that doesn’t use hands or a fist,
This was not done
And in the stands, those wearing red asked the blue shirts ‘are we having fun’
These gunners do not need a lot just one good shot
To be honest damage was done with only the one
Making the Gunners walk away with all the fun.
Giving questions about those leaving with outbursts that were steaming
Looking about hearing those chanted shouts
The blue shirt cheers who had to pay for their beers
Thought this London Derby was not going to be a fight
But to those who were just watching it was exciting, right?
Two to two is what the scoreboard flashed
And the blue shirts only had a draw ticket to be cashed
Granted this was more money
For those who shed out more pounds just in case something happened that was funny
Chelsea and Arsenal find themselves tied
And hopefully no one cried
Since it was a nice entertaining evening where everyone gave it a good try
There is a voice within my head,
he’s been there all my life,
I’ve learned not to talk much of it,
or folks say, “He ain’t right.”
Some would thing that I’ve gone insane,
that I should go get help,
but the voice has done me no hard,
as far as I can tell.
If fact he seems to cheer me on
through every turn and twist,
I know this doesn’t make much sense,
but please consider this:
When I was eleven years old
I had a soccer game,
I wasn’t much the sporting type,
my performance was…lame.
They liked to put me on defense
so I couldn’t screw up,
but the last game of the season
I had a change in luck.
I had moved up to the midfield
and the ball came to me,
before me stood an open shot
and distracted goalie.
Instead of joy I felt frozen,
like all had gone amiss,
then the voice said, “You’re in the clear!
Go for it, you’ve got this!”
Needless to say, I made that shot,
my athletic high point,
was so happy I didn’t mind
that I had pulled my groin.
But six years later I did find
myself in a hard place,
this time it was over a girl
with a heavenly face.
The people all called her Trissa,
she seemed out of my reach,
my hands would get all clammy if
around her I did speak,
but somehow I worked up the nerve
to ask her to the prom,
as I walked up every heartbeat
seemed as loud as a bomb.
To think such a woman would deign
to give me just one kiss…
but the voice said, “She’s scared as you,
stand firm, boy, you’ve got this.”
Can you believe the voice was right?
We dated for five years,
got married right out of college,
then the real world appeared.
It was much harder than a school,
the workloads were intense,
I knew so little I don’t know
how I survived back them.
Moreover Triss soon fell pregnant,
and quietly, inside,
I feared knowing that small person
upon me would rely.
How could I shoulder all that weight?
I struggled at my job,
what kind of life could I provide,
I feared they’d both feel robbed.
But what I held that tiny girl,
saw her sleeping in bliss,
the voice spoke up and made it plain,
“Just relax, we’ve got this...”
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
I spit this on the mic to flow oh so prolific
What's the since in believing in Christ
If ur just gonna take him out of Christmas...
Dish the wish list...u can't re gift this...
Can't unwish this...
Hold the phone put it to ur ear so i may call
You on this...
I don't mean to phone straight home...
Put ur wish bone on this...
I'm in this rap for tit and tat cross my t dot my i's...
Bring that right back...
I said I'm in this rap for tit and tat...
I'm diving for the truth but
it seems I'm getting lies just stuffed full of cotton...
So I start digging in deeper let the lord be my finder as well as my keeper...
Im just the seeker...
I use to just be the peeker I was searching for it all...
But the only thing I was able to do was watch it all fall...
Behind it I would crawl and cry about how I almost had it all...
That's all....
The devil wanted me to give up...
But my success was simply based off of me getting up and moving on...
So I left my baggage behind for claims...
Now I'm onward bound to my success full stead ahead ....
All aboard this train to success...
I use to walk out my house...couldn't see my path so foggy
Now I'm gliding down my path so hands free cuz god is handling me....
Can't u see what I see my cup now runneth over...
All brand new...
My home turned to a castle I can see the riches the success...
That the lord has for me...
He set it all up now it's slowly falling down for me...
I use to bit the hand that feed me
now I shake it and hold it so firmly he guides me down the path...
Hand in hand...makes me feel so securely...
So surely not late I thought...
But maybe not so early
He came at the right time to save me from myself like a goalie...
So holy...
Hollie mollie I use to feel so lonely...
But now I feel so secure its like I'm held down
held together by a force much stronger than gravity
Yet I feel so free like I'm on the moon zero gravity...
Helped my outta all my problems...
Had so much sin I was indebt to sin...
Had to look within to get out...
That's when I found God and he turned me inside out
I grew up on granddaddy's ranch
There wasn’t a bull I couldn’t conquer
My cowboy boots only came off
When I changed my clothes for soccer
I love the smell of fresh green grass
The sound of the ball hitting the goal post
I love racing down the field
Ya’ll listening? I love soccer it’s the most
Well. let me tell you a little story ‘bout
Flying on a plane
Our team went to Scotland
To play in a big game
My excitement turned to fear
I was just a mess
The players came from the other team
and each one had on a dress
John gave me a flower
I think I saw it wilt
My coach whispered in my ear
Calm down that is a Kilt
Now ya’ll I know I am from Texas
We’re called the Lone star State
We love our fellow man
Ain’t a neighbor that I hate
But to see a handsome boy
Smile and try to flirt
Reach his hand to shake mine
while wearing a wool skirt
I know I know it’s called a Kilt
and it’s a part of their tradition
but what is a girl to do
I’ve never dealt with such conditions
They come in many colors
John’s was green and red
His friend had one of grey and blue
Matched the hat upon his head
The goalie for their soccer team
Was a boy called David Heath
He laughed and whispered in my ear
“We wear nothing underneath.”
Did I mention I’m from Texas?
Well, I ain’t no Southern Belle
The thoughts I had while practicing
Would’ve made my Mama yell
I looked it up in history books
Researched in magazines
To wear one of those in Scotland
Is like a Texan wearing jeans
I tried to act naturally
but all my head could do was tilt
I just had to go back home
and tell the story of the Kilt
finally, about the time the game was at an end
That cute boy from the airport
reached for the ball and had to bend
I still don’t know if he made the goal
I’ll have to ask Coach Milt
because all I saw was what he didn’t wear
underneath his Kilt
03/07/2021
Written for Scotland-One Rule Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
Hockey is a game played on ice,
men (assumption) in thick pads,
swaking a 'puck' with sticks.
Tricky thing hockey can be see,
thick pads, icy playing fields...
but best of all, it's the goalie
that's feared the most.
Looking like a nightmare post,
masked monster guarding cave
entry to goal...but what I do know.
I'm having to Google it...
"Hockey is played in the morning"
said Mr. Franklin in the year 1825,
Great Bear takes the prize and
later in years, games were played
with cheers on rinked ice
Still and inside...
Padded demons to each side,
nine their count on the glide...
Slicing the ice as they slide.
A miracle score over a great lake,
pride is at stake as they
ride the blades,
masks of nine to each side.
Wooden the weapons and black
the target, they fix the eyes
and the mind as echos are sliced
into the air of their icy layer.
And Canada began the game,
spreading the echo over the land
and then came bodies they called
the fans. And they cheered!
Bundled in coats mittens and beers
they cheered and the game moved on.
Padded players on the make with
hockey bucks and goals to take
home, the Cup.
~They play for the ;puck~
~I watched them long ago once
in a dream when I was a duck
on the great lake quacking,
and a duckling with luck that the
goalie would save me! Again!
My nest you see was right behind
the demons pride.
And so as a shadow on the goalie's
back I rode, hiding my feathers
of eggs and gold! Whew! Just on time,
for the rainbow's net.Again, came a 10th
on the rink to keep reason.
A fair game invented for a new season.
Gotta love a thing, created in a lake,
called a Goalie during a day when
demons of nine laughed and sang
on the ice,
So wrote the duck of today.
Thank god for TV. That's where you'll
find me, if I ever watch it.
Again
A game to be enjoyed with friends,
is the Penned. ;)
Our granddaughter’s playing soccer again…she’s the goalie on her team
and in some ways as I watch her…it’s like I’m reliving a dream….
You see I grew up thinking I was an athlete…what other conclusion could I draw…
when I looked into the mirror…an athlete was who I saw.
But my recollections of my career in sports are anything but athletic…
In fact the best word to describe them…I imagine is pathetic.
For my athletic career, unfortunately, had an abbreviated run…
apparently it’s a long way from thinking you’re an athlete to actually being one.
I tried my luck at baseball…but in hindsight I have to admit
it’s not easy to play baseball if you can’t catch a ball…or hit.
So I tried my luck at wrestling…I thought for wrestling I had a knack
until I spent my entire wrestling career…lying on my back.
Next I turned to football…which from the beginning was a mismatch…
because I did not like getting hit….and even that bigger ball…I could not catch.
I do have one great memory from my career in sports, however…even though as an athlete I was bad…it was when I looked up into the stands and, looking back, I’d see my mom and dad.
When I struck out, when I got pinned, when I dropped the ball…Mom and Dad still found a way to cheer….
They would smile and wave to me…as if I was the athlete of the year
For it didn’t matter how I did as long as I gave it my best…
and as long as I had fun…my parents were impressed.
I realized it wasn’t how good or bad I was…whether I ever achieved athletic fortune or fame…my parents were proud not for how I did…but for how I played the game.
Which is why when I watch Ava play…it’s only my granddaughter out there I see…
and win or lose if she did her best…
if she had fun…
that will always be good enough for me.
Caleb Smith's “Echoes of the Heart” has inspired me to recall those halcyon days long ago on the frozen ponds of my youth.
It was hockey from early morn to the darkening shades of late afternoon with only a short break for a quickly devoured Campbell's Vegetable Soup for lunch. My closest friend was Ken. You very rarely saw one of us without the other, we were inseparable. Our hockey sticks were battered and thin and only bore a slight resemblance to hockey sticks we got each year for Christmas. The pond was a wide frozen body of water beside a well traveled highway to the distant land called the United States. But in our minds it was The Montreal Forum filled with screaming fans cheering on our every move. We would take turns being the great Maurice “The Rocket” Richard while the other would be all-star goalie Jacques Plante! It could have been minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit but we never felt the cold and icy winds... we were superstars.
On a few occasions I have revisited that hallowed ground where we spent hour upon hour, oblivious to time, our faces frozen as well as our ears and our toes! The cheering of the imaginary crowds was all the inspiration we needed to fire a blistering shot through the imaginary pads each other was wearing. At the end of the day, we literally had to crawl home on our hands and knees, our ankles no longer being able to support our tired legs.
Those sweet memories have stayed with me for a lifetime. I'm sure with my last breath of life, the vision of Ken and me will flash before my eyes. Ah yes, hockey, it was what young Canadian boys lived for back then!
© Jack Ellison 2013
It was hockey from early morn to the darkening shades
of late afternoon with only a short break for a quickly devoured
Campbell's Vegetable Soup for lunch. My closest friend was Ken.
You very rarely saw one of us without the other, we were inseparable.
Our hockey sticks were battered and thin and only bore a slight
resemblance hockey sticks we got each year for Christmas. The pond
was a wide frozen body of water beside a well traveled highway
to the distant land called the United States. But in our minds it was
The Montreal Forum filled with screaming fans cheering on our every
move. We would take turns being the great Maurice “The Rocket”
Richard while the other would be all-star goalie Jacques Plante!
It could have been minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit but we never
felt the cold and icy winds... we were superstars.
On a few occasions I have revisited that hallowed ground where we
spent hour upon hour, oblivious to time, our faces frozen as well as
our ears and our toes! The cheering of the imaginary crowds was
all the inspiration we needed to fire a blistering shot through the
imaginary pads each other was wearing. At the end of the day, we
literally had to crawl home on our hands and knees, our ankles
no longer being able to support our tired legs. Those sweet memories
have stayed with me for a lifetime. I'm sure with my last breath
of life, the vision of Ken and me will flash before my eyes.
Ah yes, hockey, it was what young Canadian boys lived for back then!
We went to our Ava, our granddaughter’s, soccer game the other night
and once again I was shown
how everybody…every family…has a story of their own.
We saw some familiar faces (as at Ava’s soccer games we always do),
people who’s stories we’re familiar with…because we’re in a chapter or two.
Of course when it came to the other team and their families
I did not recognize a face…
In fact this night might be the only night our stories interlace.
And though we had our eyes on Ava while the game was on…
in those moments in between…
we had a chance to visit with some parents from the other team.
We talked to a couple all bundled up because the night was Florida cold
and another couple with a baby who just turned one month old.
Since Ava is the goalie we tend to do our cheering as we stroll
back-and-forth along the sideline closest to her goal.
As we were rooting for Ava to block every shot…
her goal posts to control….
next to us was a father from the other team
cheering his daughter, Ryan’s, shots would find their way into the goal.
I complimented his daughter Ryan…he complimented Ava…
and we reached this harmonious accord….
because Ava blocked a lot of shots…and his daughter Ryan scored.
It was a pleasant evening…as for one night our lives intertwined…
being a part of their story…as they were part of mine.
And I was once again reminded…as Ava’s soccer game began…
how we should try to walk into each other’s stories…
as gently and lovingly as we can.
I try not to think about it, my friend.
It's so horrible, and yet,
I'm on beer ten, and I won't see you again -
So, I'll tell you a secret.
No, it's not what happened in Vietnam.
I still see it in stop-action -
If you measured it in inches and seconds,
That moment was a fraction.
A youth soccer game, my dad in the crowd,
It was nineteen sixty-two
When we lost the championship game
As I let the winning goal go through.
As a boy, I never hurt anyone,
Was a friend when needed.
I always helped my mother with her chores.
Mom and Dad, I heeded.
I studied hard, did all my homework,
Followed every rule.
Upon college graduation, I was rewarded,
Accepted to med school.
Today, I am a successful surgeon
Using scalpels and knives.
I make so many people feel better -
Sometimes, I even save lives.
Yet, deep down, I don't have what it takes.
I let everybody down.
What you see before you is a failure.
I should be buried in the ground.
I see it as we speak. My dad was in the crowd.
It was nineteen sixty-two.
We lost the championship game.
I let the winning goal go through.
You see, there's nothing now that I can do -
But wait, I have a little son.
He plays goalie on his youth soccer team,
A great boy who likes to have fun.
When the rival striker takes his final shot,
There's one thing my son won't do.
Well, I hope he doesn't, no, he better not,
Let the winning goal go through.