I found this poem posted on a Hockey Forum with the note...
"what do you guys think? I need to focus on hockey's importance to the lessons of life... i have a basic idea, but i want to get other people's opinion on the matter maybe give me some ideas thanks."
My father quit hockey One night late in his youth Went home And hung his skates in the shed Told his young bride He was done with the game Done with the time he would race A catalogue bent around each shin And the wind in his face Done with the crack of the puck
And the rush cut of the blade Done with the music of heart in the head Done with the sanguine age When winter had a joy to rival the summer’s sun He still tells the story Of one luckless player Who lived out his days a broken doll Heart quietly ticking Like a great clock lost in a corner But as for me I feel a sadness that cannot grieve And like a wicked son I risk unmendable memory And play the game beyond The reach of wisdom in my ever collapsing years.
That has got to be the fucking Best/Worst thing I have ever seen in my life! One, there is a guy out there writing poems about his relationship with his Father, and two, he is submitting it to a bunch of strangers on a hockey topic board for a critique! Who is this guy? He is my fucking hero. I want to hang him up on my wall and stare at him.
Wow.
No comments:
Post a Comment