Hockey Haikus (John Poch and Chad Davidson)

June 8, 2009

There’s something about
swatting your goalie’s shin-pads
post warm-ups—Luck thuds.

Conflict—How can I
pledge my allegiance to two
national anthems?

Detroit’s new savior:
Cujo’s mojo in the pipes.
Hasek can’t hack it.

Terror in the crease,
Sacrificing teeth for goals:
Philly’s John LeClair.

Can’t muss it up, Mess-
ier’s hair, and all those hats
doffed to the bald ice.

Dumb intermission
games, while the team four-down gets
a vulgar ear-full.

She says, “bull hockey!”
Euphemisms just aren’t
what they used to be.

Speaking Japanese,
We would know that hokku means
wet rice; also hockey.

I deke you, deke you.
In the crease, I deke you, you
who look sorrowful.

Though I shall deke back.
And the deked shall inherit
all this open ice.

It is not easy
to deke on the ice, unless
you are a deker.

The ref calls icing.
Everyone is dumbfounded.
There’s ice everywhere.

Modano’s so cute
I want to throw roses on
the ice. But I don’t.

I swear! Foiled again.
H-E-double hockey sticks.
Satan’s in the crease.

Ice cold ice. Hot dog.
Hockey game in June, Phoenix
rising from the smog.


My sports calendar pivots on early June, the best time of year to be a Redwings fan. So I thought it only fitting, being near the end of yet another Stanley Cup finals (which the Wings, once again, will win), to post a hockey poem. This was published in Smartish Pace a few years ago, and later came out in a book called Hockey Haiku: The Essential Collection. Subsequently, we published a comical (hint: fictional) review of the book on our web site, along with a response by the poets. You can read it here.

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