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King in the Cage

Poetry By: Ousma
Sports



A lacrosse poem written from the point of view of the Goalie (me). It also compares lacrosse to chess. hope you like it :)


Submitted:Apr 20, 2011    Reads: 87    Comments: 4    Likes: 2   


The whistle blows
And my team breaks
Positioning themselves
I jog alone
To the end of the field
Into the cage
A solitary monument
That I must guard
Without yield
The game is nigh
The ball; the Prize
Tossed high
The players; the Pieces
They surge forward
A wave of bodies
Crashing across the field; the Board.
My eyes flicker to and fro
Evaluating, taking in the scenes
I pick out the Pieces
Separating Bishops and Queens
From Pawns
The Queens, they are fast
Versatile and confident
When they shoot
I; the King, must be prepared
The Pawns, they come in last
Quiet and unsure too
I don't think about them much
When they shoot, if they do
They'll miss
Or give it right into my clutch.
I can tell by how they move
How they hold themselves
And handle their sticks;
Their Swords
Who I should watch for tricks
And who I should mostly ignore
The Queens, they sprint
And never tire
They dodge and push through
The weak links of defense
A burning fire
Their Sword is just another part of them
Another arm, perhaps an extension
They drive hard
Remembering others they have scarred
Fearlessness in their eyes
I know them well
I will study them
Learn their tricks
I will have the element of surprise.
They may think of me
As a sleeping beast
Curled up in my cave
Hiding behind the team;
My Army
And that I won't make a save
But I always have one eye open
The army is under my command
I am a King
And Kings don't move much
But we are the most important piece
And when we strike
It's always deadly.
You approach me now,
Getting too close for comfort
I'm ready, waiting
You start your plays;
Your Strategies
But I'm one step ahead
From my vantage point
I see everything
My army only gets glimpses
This is why I am King
You glare as I call out your trick
I've been watching, I know
I'm ready, waiting.
There is a break,
Here's her chance
The Queen, she rushes me
I take my stance
Her Sword ready to kill
I call for my Army
They crash on my command
Denying her crushing advance
We work as one
Separated into many
I am their eyes
And they are my feet
Don't come to our Board
If you're unprepared
Of you we'll make a quick defeat
Come ready
Or be ready to retreat.
She is smart
She is cunning
Commanding the Army
While the King is behind
She is strong; her skills stunning
I can see it in her eyes
The way she runs
Her pride is damaged
And she wants her Prize
She watches my Army
As I've been watching her
She knows where we dominate
She's found where we slur
She leads the offense
On another attack
Dodging through my defense
Looking not at my Pawns
But the spaces where their presence lacks
I yell but it's too late
She stands before me
A glorious warrior in her prime
Wielding a Sword that holds my fate.
The look in her eyes
Wild and furious
She's pinned her prey
Winding up for her final blow
I watch her eyes and body
Judging where her shot will go
The moment she snaps
Firing at me the prize
On the streak of yellow are my eyes
I'm waiting, ready
She thought I was sleeping
Hiding in my cage
But I am no easy prey,
I'm wide awake and in a rage
I lunge as the world holds its breath
All eyes on me
Will I defend my life
Or meet a certain death?
I swing my Sword
Sharp and fatal with its bite
The hilt flashing in a blur
Gleaming in the sunlight.
The Prize; the ball
Crashes in my mesh;
My Sword
Stopped from cutting into my Army
From tearing our flesh
The crowd roars
My army cheers
The Queen is spitting angry
A simultaneous sigh
Emitted from her peers.
I have claimed the Prize
I run it up the Board
The King is on the move
Bringing the enemy's fear to a rise
I am fast and nimble
Though I'm armed to the teeth
To my Rook
My Prize I bequeath
And she takes it away
I watch the advance
Bodies dance and sway
My Bishop takes it
And my Queen cuts in
Ready for the kill
Passed off to her, she spins
And takes a swing
The Prize hits the net
Behind the King
Another goal; it must sting.
My Army and I,
We are ready to fight
In the blistering sun or pouring rain
We are not afraid of the mud
I have learned to take the pain
And rub some dirt into it
Call me crazy, call me insane
I love what I do
And I don't complain.
You were warned to come ready and on your feet
Else you would face a quick, humiliating defeat.




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