The Game

May 5, 2009
By Kord Gilbert BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
Kord Gilbert BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

The first time I watched
With my family at my side,
Cold, and covered up
With the weight of the crowd.
The sleek cutting
Of ice down below,
Sweat dripping salt
Of determination and hard work.
The silent awe and,
Cheering of the people
Around me; flanking.
The woven knit of my
Black, thin gloves;
Cold seeping though them.
The smell of the cold
Air around me, breath
Chilling, a mid-air freeze
Of panting and cheer.
The constant bang of
Bodies against the boards
Sends the crowd into
Pitiful remission; pain.
Intermission sends my father
And I to the concessions, for
Snacks and refreshments.
The thrill of the game
Engulfing me in utter
Deliverance of each blow,
Breakaway to the net,
The shot and the goal.

The author's comments:
I decided to write this poem based on the Detroit Vipers games and the Detroit Red Wings games that I would attend when I was younger. I still attend the Detroit Red Wings games to this day...Go Wings!

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