Sports Poems
+6Bright lights, loud fans,
Competition at its best.
Ninth inning when the pressure’s on,
That’s when I’m better than the rest.
Unlimited anticipation for the previous eight,
Praying that I get my chance to dominate.
Thoughts of the greats pass through my head,
From Mariano to Eckersley to Gossage,
With many left unsaid.
There’s no greater pressure in sports than being a closer,
But I live for it.
Motivation, domination, and devastation, it’s all part of the job,
But when you’re a closer, you have minimal time to sob.
Constant ups and downs,
Striving to be the greatest.
Numerous teammates counting on you,
To not let the lead come within two.
Strike three! Screams the umpire,
Signaling success, and yet another win.
There’s no greater pressure in sports than being a closer,
But I live for it.
This poem was written/submitted by Matthew Metcalf.
+2Here is the cup
the day says it all
moment for which we are eagerly upto
there goes the whistle
all teaming up for that empty net
attempts in full flow
as each team in attempt to win trophy
to win everyone are equipped
determination is just another word
drama determination is the word
just another to describe the cup
This poem was written/submitted by rohan bendre.
+20The World Heavyweight Champion when he was in his prime
The one called ‘The Brown Bomber’ the greatest of his time
The mighty Joseph Louis Barrow his legend lives today
It’s true old warriors never die they merely fade away
Perhaps excepting Paul Robeson the great Joe Louis did more
For all African Americans than any did before
For eleven years the World Heavyweight Champion he boxed his way to fame
When I was just a toddler his was a household name.
In the thirties and the forties his was a well known face
The famous Joseph Louis Barrow the darling of his race
When Joe was in his heyday none with him could compete
For eleven years undefeated the World’s best he beat.
Joe Louis the peoples champion was loved by black and white
And people came from far and wide to watch the great man fight
Few went the distance with him he fought like a man inspired
Yet a gentleman out of the ring and by everyone admired.
With the dead of America the bones of Joe Louis lay
And though he rests in peace forever his legend lives today
For eleven years the World Champion and the greatest of his time
He fought his way to glory when he was in his prime.
This poem was written/submitted by Francis Duggan.
+43 here came day
drama excitement glory is pay
there goes whistle
players ready to solve dramatic puzzle
in the 15th
pass by flanker
in good position to score try
but alert is word
as there comes the defense
in the 20th
attempt in success mode
as flyhalf scores try
more joy ahead
as conversion follows
the opponent shows their power
but home team shows their strength
match about to end
once again flyhalf scores
happiness is word
score says 15-6
in favour of home team
rejoice is say of fans
as they say
bravo
This poem was written/submitted by rohan bendre.
+17 Sports poetry keeps on popping up here at GottaBook, in this case with me adding to the world’s collection of hockey poems (in Fib form). What can I say? I love sports almost as much as I love food, so expect to see more poems on both topics as time goes on. You have been warned. Happy Poetry Friday (with links collected at Big A little a)….
GETTING READY
by
Gregory K.
Pads.
Glove.
Face mask.
All I ask…
By all that’s holy,
Survive my first game as goalie
This poem was written/submitted by Harry.
-3Technology in swimming is on its way to being doomed .As they want to ban the LZR racer swimming costume .So in London , 2012 , what will become of them .The swimming suits worn by tall women and shaven headed men .Times are getting faster and they have blamed the speedy swimsuit .They say its like having an flipper on each and every foot .A few hundredths of a second is the advantage you get , In full body racing suits that don’t even seem to get wet .What about goggles and hats and rubber gloves upon your hands , They might become distributed souvenirs for all the fans . Maybe its time to revert back to normal swimsuits again , Then when gold medals are won there will be nothing left to blame .
This poem was written/submitted by Paul McCann.
+7 i broke my finger once.
it caused just a wince
of discomfort,
mostly because
it meant wasting time
on x-rays and trying
to keep the cast dry
while taking a shower.
it was one of those ohwells,
like when a car breaks down
on the way to a football game -
a pity, but not much more that that.
that was before
i started playing golf.
now – a sprained thumb
of my right hand!
the agony of not being able
to grip the club properly
for few days is just
too much to bear,
shit!
This poem was written/submitted by Bogeyman.
