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Best Sports Poems

Below are the all-time best Sports poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of sports poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Sports Poem | |

The Truth About Truth -

Truth burns at the center of all occurrance,
it is a heat that motivates appettites to enlarge,
truth is a multiplier of quests, 
satisfaction always arrives at the porch of a new path,
truth does not reveal endings, only beginings that behave
like currents pushing towards a shore,
truth demands stamina from the finder as well from the seeker,
it dashes in delight from the tired,
indolence receives no invitation from truth because laziness is a debtor,
a fish with no gills,
credit walks not from the bank steps of truth,
one must exchange, transact with it, as wanting is to worth,

Truth holds strength in one hand and suffering in the other,
He gives quarter and meal to surviving artificers who are organizing
their talents for future enterprise,
to the brigand and beggar He puts on a pewter plate
bland beans representing distance,
disillusionment preceeds the knowledge of utility because
new truth means fallacy is an ancestor,

an anthropologist is truth, observing your traits,
orbiting the ability of your judgement,
some of Truth's revelations are more expensive than others,
sometimes He will take your Past and grin like a haughty antique dealer,
truth will invest in your Future as a gambler revisits old glory
speaking fresh fortunes in cold ears,

He is an opportunist incessantly offering information for spirit,
without the ignorant truth becomes a vagabond in a vineyard of sweet rust,
the secret of truth is that it is ours
if we wish to be honest with ourselves,
truth is the inheritence of the strong who know how to make it,
oppossed to those waiting for it -

J.A.B.

Details | Sports Poem | |

The Dart Chalker

He threw the dart,
it missed the board,
it hit my foot instead.
The next dart flew.
it hit a wire
then ricocheted t'wards my head.

It's a dangerous thing,
the game of darts.
Not for the faint of heart.
"Cause once they're drunk
they miss the board
and try, your hair, to part.

I can add
and I can subtract
so I don't mind keeping score.
But when those darts
miss the board
they don't always hit the floor.

I have scars 
and I have bled
from darts, like missiles, thrown.
But if they don't stop
aiming for me
they can bloody well score their own.

Details | Sports Poem | |

Note to a Lady in Waiting

The white charger's belly is bloated with hay
The helmet helm's rusted quite shut
The tack room door hinges are tearing away
The leather's un oiled  and dry
The lance is still good
It is bracing the fence
but  I traded the sword for a pen
I am presently seeking a page
So if you're still waiting
and anticipating 
A Lochinvar ending of sorts
I shall purchase wild oats for the horse
I recall how to sow them of course
With hardly a shred of remorse

Details | Sports Poem | |

Fantasizing a little one on one

There's a certain somebody out there
i'd rather not name......
showed a little interest , at playing a game ,
she's bold in her talent's ,
say's she'll put me to shame....
such big talk , from such a tiny frame....
smiling inside , being challenged by this dame
a fine lady , no doubt , but game is not lame
you're quite the find  " BABY " , I'll give you your fame........
until then , i must warn you , this game won't be tame !!!!!

                        { ciao bella }

Details | Sports Poem | |

A golf limerick

While a man was golfing in Fife
a funeral cortege was arife,

       his head bowed in prayer
       at this somber affair

to pay last respects to his wife!

Details | Sports Poem | |

POETS DREAM TEAM

Blake was chosen keeper,
For massive hands had he  
Yeats the lanky sweeper
And Keats at number three 
  
Whitman wore the five shirt 
With Masefield to his right  
Thus they had a back line 
Of energy and might  

Shakespeare had been brought in 
At quite enormous cost 
To complement the midfield 
Of Byron, Burns and Frost 
 
Up front two boyhood heroes 
Whom I revere today  
The tortured Wilfred Owen, 
The brilliant Thomas Gray  

And so it became clear to me  
When first I entered Heaven 
That I would have to go somewhat  
To make the First Eleven.

Details | Sports Poem | |

The Chair Lift

I slide in the chair as it begins to rise.
Legs hanging with heavy feet,
Bang them together, watch falling snow.
Brisk wind hits my face turning red.
The metal cold and wood wet,
Holding my poles dangling skis,
Nose gets numb during the ascent.
The view surreal I feel so blessed,
See them push off at the top.
Just in time I jump off
Then glide through dusty snow.

By: Greg Stanley


Submitted into Brian Strand's "Upto Sixteen lines" Contest

Details | Sports Poem | |

Hoss Race

Long shot prospect
named “Reject Hoss”
bedecked with sweat.

He fell to last
‘till he passed gas
so fast, he flew!

He ran with ease.
At Jockey’s  prod,
he squeezed in front!

Forty to one,
odds he won was
pure fun for Hoss.
 



Inspired by Dr. Ram's Than- Bauk contest.
written 8/6/11

Details | Sports Poem | |

CASTING HIS LINE


Casting his line, a love affair,
despite charcoal clouds and damp air,
my father would patiently wait
and trust in his favorite bait
for sweet solitude was rare.

Heaven, to him, was a low chair
by water, mouthing a prayer,
mom would gripe he’d stayed out too late
          casting his line.

Dad’s tall tales were beyond compare,
one pike was no match for a bear,
I miss how he’d ruminate...  
now, his rod I appreciate, 
so I take the greatest of care
          casting his line.




*written Dec 6, 2012

Details | Sports Poem | |

Golfers Beware

If a golfer who’s clumsy and falls
Loses grip on the clubs that he hauls
	He'd trip on a trap
	With wood in his lap
And have problems in finding his balls!


for Craig Cornish's limerick contest

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