Long Touchdowns Poems
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I finished high school in the 60's, a decade of 'Change and Revolution'. Got married in the 70's, the decade of 'Accountability and Resolution'. Yes, I became a man in the 70's, a college graduate, a father, a voter, a missionary pastor, and a homeowner. The decade of the 70's was like building a foundation and a platform in anticipation of the decade of the 80's.
The 80's was a decade of 'Reconstruction, Reconsideration, Reconciliation, and Revision'. The 80's, also a decade of Fiscal Responsibility, Vision, and Expansion, gave birth to the formation and rise of the Reagan Democrats. I suspect that Jimmy Carter was no match for the 80's because the 80's ushered in his defeat at the hands of Ronald Reagan, who also took on The Air Traffic Controllers and weakened the hands of America's Strong Labor Unions. The Spring of '81 brought us the failed assassination attempt on Ronald Reagan who nearly died but recovered and went on to become a great president who said to the head of the Soviet Union, "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall". There were great catches, great runs, great tackles, and great touchdowns as the 80's brought the rise and reign of the San Francisco 49ers. In the late 70's, Americans were captured and held hostage in Iran and released in the early 80's. My first vote for a Republican presidential candidate was cast in 1980 for Ronald Reagan. Our third and last child was born in 1981, and after moving to Sacramento in '86, unable to find work in Sacramento. I commuted to San Francisco for two and a half years. The Aids epidemic broke out in the 80's, and suddenly the sexual revolution was being brought to, if not a halt, at least a pause. Early on with very small attendance, an Aids Seminar was held at our church.
10132018PoSoupContest, Remembering The 80's, Michelle Faulkner
They say boys don’t cry.
They say it like a promise.
Like strength is stitched in our skin at birth
and weakness is something
you have to unzip your chest to find.
I was eight
when I learned that sadness had a gender.
That girls get tissues,
and boys get told to “tough it out.”
That scraped knees get band-aids,
but broken hearts?
Those just get buried under
“man up”
and “you’ll be fine.”
I was twelve
when my dad said,
“Stop acting like a girl.”
Like emotions were diseases
and I’d caught one.
So I stopped.
Stopped crying.
Stopped talking.
Stopped needing anything
that made me look soft.
Because being soft
felt like being disposable.
And you wonder why boys break things
before they break down?
Why fists meet walls before feelings meet words?
We are taught to bottle it up—
but no one tells you what happens
when the pressure hits the glass ceiling of your skull.
I walk hallways with a smile that’s a lie.
Teachers don’t ask.
Friends don’t see.
And the counselor?
Too busy with the loud kids,
the girls who cry pretty in bathrooms.
My silence doesn’t make a scene.
It just echoes.
Some nights I scream
into pillows
so I don’t have to apologize
for having a voice.
But no one sees bruises
when they’re on the inside.
No one asks
if you're okay
when your mask fits perfectly.
And I want to tell you—
depression wears cologne too.
Anxiety knows how to laugh at jokes.
Panic attacks can come
after touchdowns and straight A’s.
I want to scream:
Check on your boys.
Check on the ones who always say, “I’m good.”
Check on the ones whose humor hits too hard,
too fast,
like they’re trying to dodge their own thoughts.
Because we are drowning
in plain sight.
We are falling
but our hands look like fists,
so no one thinks to catch us.
We are breaking
in ways that look like silence.
And silence
doesn’t make noise
until it’s too late.
Pulled off the road
Stirred up the dust
Sat in my car
Over the fence
Campbellton dam
Built in nineteen e-
leven by pow-
erful alien workers
Twenty-four hun-
dred five feet across
Keep off the dam
Danger Beware
Waters may change
Strong undertow
No swimming allowed
Over the fence
Right about eight
touchdowns to make
A drop in the o-
cean on my left
Roaring of mock-
ing on my right
Into the lake or
Over the falls
Taking a step
Along the stone wall
Look at my watch
No time for this
No time at all
Stare at the face
Minutes turn past
Hours and days
Sunset again
Sunrise and then
I take a few steps
Into the light
Holding a can-
vas of a land-
scape oil painted
with falls like this
cotton, like sailcloth
Pulling me on
Two foot by three
Not very big
But crossing like this
It might as well be
a main sail on mast and
my arms are the spars as
the edge of a cloud
Black overhead
Blown by the winds
twisting my arms
my column of spine
A mad acrobat
on a stretched wire
out in the wind
throwing up rain
a flat parasol
now up over-
head and just four
fields to go but
I stop myself
Look at my watch
No time at all
Deadline's approaching
I almost fall
Concentrate now
I'm getting cold
I'm pretty wet but
Rain's letting up
I take a step
I pick up the pace
I'm running now
A drop in the o-
cean on my left
And on my right
Well out of my depth
three hundred feet
to undoubted death
Spitting at me
Laugh in my face
Roaring the numbers
I stop and look
Don't look too good
Out of my pocket
I pull out my dice
Shooting the works
Rolling a seven
I laugh right on back
On the knife-blade
"Calling your bluff
You got nothing at all"
The wind's picking up
My two die goes plunk
The five doesn't move
(too long for PSoup, continued)
There once was a General who had an investment in the swamp
He had many ways of getting what he wants
Including making things great again when he stomps
While in the marsh land
The General had to make a stand
Feeling pressure from the groups
Most were wearing their pinstripe suits
For many years they dealt the cards
Depending on social pages and stars
Doing business with the entire world
Using positive dialogue as its stir
For the most part this was peaceful action
Warm welcomed after the bitter distrusting combative fraction
Marketed as the evening news featured attraction
During these years of violent behavior
Games were played that the country savored
Goals, Baskets, Runs and Touchdowns galore
Checks being written and money in the bank everyone was sure
These sporting exhibitions found themselves having time on the floor
In every paper results were reported
With space, journalist awarded
Printed information
About the spectacle they were facing
Competition was the civil way
Based on physical activity play
During this fun
When communication was supposed to be done
Keeping things flowing
Like a country’s crew team doing the rowing
The General should be aware
About this unique style of internal affairs
Having the purpose to advert small upheavals
That the enemy could provide as their evil
All this is something to interpret and appreciate
As states get things straight
Sports are not games designed around winning
Instead they bring closure to the living
Unlike cultures who are sore
And do not know how to stop fighting a war
Hopefully the New York/New Jersey General will use this athletic battle fleet
To confront humanity’s flaw, the need to compete.
Switching channels, trying to stay on top
Mannings and Favre are the cream of the crop
Afraid to miss a single great play
Is this how a lady should spend her Sunday?
Vikings fans stand up and cheer
Purple and gold are winning this year
Look like dem Saints gonna 'Brees' (Understood?)
No more bags, no more 'Ain'ts" (Better knock on some wood!)
Not much success for the Tampa Bay Bucs
But faithful fans are still wishing them luck
The Giants appear to be bouncing back
Eli and team mates try to regain their track
Great quarterbacks like Luckman and Tittle
Let's hope our Giants remain "fit as a fiddle"
Touchdowns and field goals get fans outta their seats
While I scream and applaud, my cheerleading repeats
Reviews and replays are part of this game
As great football legends, their names shall remain
Let's get ready to watch game of football.
It's the number one game to watch in the fall.
Choose a team that will be a winner.
Watch the game just before dinner.
Oklahoma sooners is my team who's yours?
Many thanks to the football fans who contributed, including Linda-Marie Bariana, Karen
O'Leary, Tim Ryerson, Matthew Annish and Teresa Skyles (the Sooner fan!).
Just like football I am trying to reach the goal
Zigzagging down the field of life to keep from getting bowled
It is first down in the morning as that whistle rocks my head
Just a little button hook to get me out of bed
I am tackled within three steps as my son bursts through the door
His sister went long with his mobile phone to even up the score
I coach them how to play together, not to scream and shout
Both are yanked from the game for a personal time out
At ten AM in the second quarter I think I am gaining ground
The dog intercepts a pass by the cat to turn the game around
Racing out the patio door that dog and cat did mesh
It cost the dog a bout in his cage for unnecessary roughness
Halftime brings the team together to analyze performance
After lunch we play again to make good a second chance
The clock winds down with end zone in sight, dinner takes a tumble
An audible I had to call because the cake I fumbled
And finally in quarter four, the game down to the wire
A revelation that no one else could manage this empire
Though touchdowns are sweet in life, one thing I came to know
Sometimes to win the game at hand you only need a field goal
Wow, another Super Bowl Sunday is upon us here,
While it's treated like a national holiday.
Yet consumption can be measured by all the beer,
As the gallons are poured while they play.
No matter the victor, there's a residue of pain,
As the long off-season is cause for withdrawl.
Even though touchdowns may set records to gain,
They're soon forgotten as the sports world is a crawl.
Now fans do their best to show interest elsewhere,
However basketball and golf just don't fill the void.
This is where the withdrawl is thick in the air,
Only to desperately begin searching their I-phone or android.
We mustn't forget another creation in the wake,
When millions of football widows then flood the streets.
Looking diligently for another interest they can take,
That won't remind them of shoulder pads or cleats.
So as the build-up to the game slowly comes to pass,
We should mention the epic commercials that are placed.
As they attempt to ease the pain from fumbles on the grass,
To all those that lost their bets...and have that bad aftertaste.
Those many years ago, you stood at my door,
Checking your little man, like every night before.
When I heard your voice, whispering 'goodnight',
I'd drift off to sleep, knowing all was right.
I Remember playing catch, running for touchdowns,
Jumping in the piles, of leaves upon the ground?
Sitting in the car, while you would shift a gear,
I was ten feet tall, when you would let me steer.
As you watched me grow, I was watching you,
And everything you did, I thought I'd do too.
So often you would say, how proud you were of me,
And when it came to you, I was proud as I could be.
Your heart was for the Lord, you showed it everyday,
I saw Him in your life, in every little way.
As the years flew by, I came to know Him too,
He's nestled in my heart, right there beside you.
Yes I'm sad right now, that you're not here with me,
But ever in my mind, your face I clearly see.
When I close my eyes, and say my prayers at night,
I know both my Fathers are whispering 'goodnight'.
A Super Bowl Ring
Me and my cat were solemnly sitting
And on line words all started fitting
To form a poem of prevalent pleasure
Which forever I will always try to treasure.
Story started out so very splendid
That by the time it had ended
My mind and spirit were enlightened
Had lost weight and belt was tightened.
Calories make fat and minds mentality
Need a home in South to have hospitality
And after writing poems by the score
Wonder what raven did for evermore.
In gargantuan stadium football would play
Trying to lead other teams astray
So many touchdowns they may accomplish
Which is what will meet their owner's wish.
And of course naturally their final goal
Was to end up on TV in Super Bowl
Then of football be a beloved king
With big ego while wearing Super Bowl ring.
FATE'S FOOTFALLS
I'm on the thirty-five yard line
theball is in my hand
But I trip and fumble first down
I got a job now suddenly I'm fired
this must be my call
I'm then tackled it's...fates footfalls
I'm running for my life
Seems like I'm forever being chased
By life misfortune trying to reach the line of scrimmage
Recieving down yhe field of life to be the winner
Even a field goal would mean much
Running past defensive tackles
What's the matter life's trying stop my touchdowns
But I run on firm and strong
gonna past those gaols for a touch down
All this bring it on, I'm gonna make it through lifes game
Gonna win that Superbowl ring
And I won't be tackled by fates footfalls
03/7/18
For Contest: FATE'S FOOTFALLS
Sponsored by: JOHN LAWLESS
©2018