Posts Tagged ‘cheerleader’

Cougar Et Tu Courage! Revolutionary IMprov Iambic Poem

February 2, 2017

I’d never met/
a Cougarette./
I’d had too much fear/
after watching them cheer./

Could her energetic and my blues dance/
lead to some sort of romance?/
She’d danced for the Cougs to win/
and now she lives in Santaquin!

I’d never met/
this Cougarette./
but the evening/
isn’t over yet./
(It looks like she’s leaving.)

There is no doubt:/
She’ll rise. I’ll shout.

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My Cheer Squad Thank You! Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

December 19, 2016

It’s always great to/
have folks around who’ll remind/
you that you’re awesome.

Lisa’s (The High School Cheerleader) Lesson: Romantic Free Verse Blogging Poem

May 29, 2015

She was
I recall,
one of the prettiest cheerleaders
of all.

Blonde, gold hair,
flashing blue eyes,
near perfect skin
pearly smile,
cheerleader’s body.

I,
nerd,
could only gaze
from afar,
and hold my breath,
and wish,
and dream
as she
and her friends
glided by,
laughing.

But sometimes,
she’d smile at me.
and make my heart
burst
and my stomach
flip.
Fodder
for nighttime fantasies.

As prom approached,
I dreamed.
In the mid-70s,
not cool
to actually GO,
but in private,
I could still imagine.

She was always there,
floating,
cloaked in gauze
and satin.
I’d ask her.
She’d say “Yes! Of course!”
totally shocking me,
disregarding social norms,
the cheerleader
and the nerd,
revenge thereof,
(before anyone thought of the film.)

We’d go,
and my social status
and my life
would change.

Then I’d wake up.

She,
of course,
was elected prom queen.
I gave myself
some eco-excuse:
“Prom
is not
socially responsible.”
Lie.

The dance,
tuxes and formals,
came
and I went
fishing,
wishing,
she’d been MY catch.
Prom Queen.

Months later,
I learned the awful,
heart-wrenching
truth
of Senior Prom.
She’d  had no
date.

Her father drove her
to the ballroom.
She entered to applause,
was crowned,
danced for a couple of tunes
with the butter-fly bow-tied
Prom King,
made her rounds,
shook hands,
walked out to where Daddy
was waiting,
drove home,
probably cried herself
to sleep.

I wondered
and have wondered
many times since:
What if I
would have asked?

Would she have laughed?
Would she have said “Yes!”?
Would that have changed
my life?
The snot-nosed nerd
who took the Prom Queen?
Would that have changed
her life?

I wonder.

A few years ago
I wanted to ask
a middle-aged
prom queen-type.
I balked.
I was afraid.
Then,
I remembered
a beautiful, smiling, cheerleader
with no prom date
except her daddy,
crying.

I swallowed,
hard,
and asked.
She laughed
and said “No!”
She was busy
that night.
But later?
“Certainly.”

And we did
and did,
and did.

Since then,
I’ve always asked.
There is no social status
I am not worthy of.
There is no beauty
I cannot dance with.
There is nobody
who is out of my league.

Thank you,
Lisa L.,
for the lesson.
If I ever see you
again,
I will ask,
as I should have
then.

Because every pretty girl
deserves to go to a ball,
and even a poor nerd
deserves happiness.

Needing Cheerleaders: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

July 28, 2013

In our lives, we all/
need cheerleaders. But *how oft/
do we cheer others?
OR
… need cheerleaders.*How often/

Suspending Disbelief, Because Maybe We All Hurt: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Response Poetry

February 22, 2013

A friend forwarded this video poem to me: http://youtu.be/ltun92DfnPY
and said it brought back painful childhood memories.
This is my response, not so much to the poem, as to her pain:

——-
She,
a cheerleader beauty,
now loved mother/Nana,
saw a poem about
a Fatboy ,
an ugly girl,
a popper,
and she claimed
it brought back pains
and bad
and sad
childhood memories.

As I listened,
I doubted,
and wondered,
and thought “Nobody ever called her
pizza face
or melon head
or pork chop
or chicken legs
or dogface”.

And she never had anyone
she loved
and trusted tell her:
“I love you as my child,
but
i hate you as a person.”
Or
“How can God love you?
You are so evil.”

But then I realized:
How would I know?
Can I deny her pain?
No.
Can I feel
her heart?
Or read
her soul
that may,
to this day,
ache?
No.

With her memories,
she
made me
realize this truth:
I don’t know the burden
or the ache
or the lonely
that’s hidden
inside of any
one.

But if it sucks as bad
as mine did,
and sometimes
still does;
if it rips them apart
and bares them open
as much as mine did
and, too often,
still does,
let me promise
here and now
with all my being
and heart
and soul,
with tears flowing,
and empathy growing,
that I will NEVER assume
that someone was
or is
without pain
in their lives,
and I will NEVER be
the reason
to add
to that ache.

Instead,
please, God,
help me
to be the eraser,
to remove some of that internal,
eternal
ache
and bring some joy
into their lives.

Because I don’t know.
I really don’t know.
I just don’t know.

Cheerleader Dreams: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

October 3, 2012

A cheerleader dream
Came true decades later and
Helped me find myself.

OR

The dream of a young
cheerleader came true decades
later and changed me.

Cheering A Cheerleader: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

June 28, 2011

I’ll get my pom-poms/
and do a loud cheer for you./
Will it make you smile?