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Long Basketball Poems | Long Basketball Poetry

Long Basketball Poems. These are the most popular long Basketball by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Basketball poems by poem length and keyword.

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Long Poems
Long poem by Louis Borgo | Details |

Innocent Perfection Of Vibes Across The Telephone Line

Innocent Perfection Of Vibes Across The Telephone Line A stranger call’s familiar voice familiar tone How do I amend for such a tone? Sinecure as a ghost to father past question remain have we met before? So the question that I a post do you believe, in coincidence or do you belief in fate So I decide to chat with her a minute to find out what her truth agenda was- As we would speak more and more we would start and finish one another sentence’s And time with in time we would speak of the exact words in between sentences, a rare a currency Indeed Solomon tears do applied to form but I what it to pause and ask her, sure You don’t have the wrong number what a coincidence that I was nineteen all on my on, and As I beginning to fall to sleep the telephone had begun to ring. Maybe it was fate As when I did decide to get a phone to get long distance as well, it looking in deeper. Only a fool would be dumb Found it to Hang up on such a soothing tone. As she kept the conversation with in an hour about her son that got Injury in College sports that happen to be part Cherokee same as me All I kept thinking is when did I register to vote? Soul channeling bed chancing we seem to be on a different plane, Maybe it’s me or maybe it is us if god put us together surely the heaven would rumple, A vibe this strong could surely deceive the devil, (hat trick) Ghost handle of a ring barrel of a magnificent figure of mist of sure air of breeze seen such vibes across The Telephone line chills ran up and down my body standing strain hair up to freeze saying to myself what a Wonderful innocent of perfection to make an acquaintance still hook on the fact it was coincidence as She Apologize for speaking so long and thank me for being a great listener- Two and half years later time well spend in the hood that felt more like prison and trust me I’m from the Projects Like Ice cream milk and cream please and what I was told if I could make it in That hood I could make it in any giving hood giving the repetition of My city – It may have been fate as the whole project was rebuild spiritually and finance by the state And I had move into an apartment complex as I was told could go for a 1,000 in upstate; fate or coincidence as this familiar voice would call again but this time different name And she what it to sell me a product and what me to be partners in a company and water who could Market water and profit and, Idea Chesire to believe, but those that did belief proceed and say once again I said to myself when did I get money all and all six year later I was and looking to relocation the phone rings again instead of Asking Was this coincidence or fate? First thing came to mind was “Some One Clue Me In”- I figure out whom this Anonymous person was But when I say who in the world gives gift cards for cable all away from west Coast to “City That I’m From” saying to myself, is it still a recession? Was this fate? I had a place to live or did I have a Guardian Angel? Question after Question Miss and serve me- Will I ever get pay for my endeavors and read a quote that said “no good deed goes unpunished” And phone ring once more- To The look in A man’s eyes never lies asking once more Was This Fate Or Coincidence- And the last words that came to mind before the college basketball finals game came on was Captivating and Memorizing-

Long poem by Robert A. Dufresne | Details |

To My Super Souper Friends

Alot of you folks have been able to say what you feel this holyday season with exquisite 
wording and beautiful sentiments. I can't do that. Maybe if I tell you a story about a 
little kid who was raised and worked on a farm. A farm boy in a class of city kids is ridiculed 
for some reason and beat up alot cause that proves to city kids that they're strong when 
they beat up a farmer kid. So I did the best I could with my sense of humor, got beat up 
when challenged and avoided other confrontations by learning to run real fast! When they 
picked teams for basketball, I was odd kid out. Too little. I found it hard to fit in anywhere.
    One fine day our 7th grade teacher gave us a homework assignment to write a poem 
which we would read aloud in class the next day.The stipulation was that, on your honor, you 
could have no help whatsoever. A solo project.
   After chores that night, I did as she said and was surprised at how easy it was. The 
next day, when it was my turn, I timidly read aloud to the class the first poem I ever wrote.  
When I finished, I awaited the verdict . All was quiet. The teacher told me to sit down. I did. 
She then admonished me for cheating on my assignment and getting help. Of course I did 
not. I still vividly remember how it felt to have all my peers watching me as our teacher 
dismissed me for a cheater with a look of disdain on her face. I was speechless, devastated 
and embarrassed by what others thought.
   The experience pushed me deeper into myself than I had ever been.. It's amazing to me 
how these feelings are resurfacing en force as I write about it. I've written poetry on and off 
since then but never taken it seriously. It was just some force that reared itself once in a 
while until it was subdued by writing one.
    Now, in the autumn of my life, something very strange and wonderful is happening. I 
have been introduced to you, my poetry soup friends. The injustice done to my poetic soul is 
every day being identified by myself, rectified and healed by your loving support. I'm no 
longer throwing my poems away. You have given me in two months what has been missing 
since the 7th grade. You have given me courage, confidence, encouragement and the 
companionship to take up where I was left off. Because of all of you, I can grow again. I was 
at a stalemate in alot of things and then this. Coincidence? More like Christ incidence. Get it? 
YOU are my Christmas gift from Love come down! This is my card to you.  

Long poem by Jared Pickett | Details |

A Little About Me

01. High heels or boots? I guess it depends on how feminine I feel....LOL
02. What time did you get up this morning? 7:15 am     
03. Diamonds or pearls? White Gold
04. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?  I Am Legend 
05. What is your favorite TV show?  Supernatural & CSI 
06. What do you usually have for breakfast? Coffee
07. What is your middle name? Privileged information
08. What food do you dislike? Salmon, Liver & most important......MUSHROOMS
09. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Tre Songs__Gentleman's Club
10. What characteristic do you despise? Unfaithfulness
11. Favorite Clothing? Basketball Shorts & Orange Wife-beaters
12. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Europe!!! 
13. Are you an organized person? Mostly
14. Where would you like to retire to? Nice, France...
15. What was your favorite birthday? My 22nd..
16. What are you going to do when you finish this?  Watch the pro-bowl & write
17. Furthest place you are sending this? Your PC 
18. Person you expect to send it back first? Uhhhh, you
19. When is your birthday? Sept 23rd......Libra Baby  
20. Are you a morning person or a night person? I am a vampire bat.....
21. What is your shoe size? 12 and a big half.....LOL 
22. Do you own any animals? Two pit-bulls____Red-Man & Remmyma
23. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share?  You See My Fro???
24. What did you want to be when you were little? A Pirate 
27. What was the last thing you ate? Tuna
28. Do you wish upon stars? Yes, Jessica Alba
29. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? White
30. How is the weather right now? Frigid 
31. Last person you spoke to on the phone? My room-mates cousin
32. Favorite soft drink? Sunny Delight 
33. Favorite restaurant? Melting Pot   
34. Hair color? Brown 
35. What was your favorite toy as a child? Micro Machines
36. Summer or winter? Winter
37. Chocolate or vanilla? Mixed 
38.Coffee or tea? Both
39. Favorite food of all time? My Mothers Stuffed Peppers   
42. What is under your bed? Nothing
43. What did you do last night? Played online with my X-box
44. What are you afraid of ? Cockroaches
45. Salty or sweet? Both
46. Best quality you have?  Being Me
47. How many years at your current job? 3 Years 
48. Favorite day of the week? Everyday
49. Positive or negative? Depends
50. How many people will you send this to? Many
51. Do you like finding out all this stuff about your friends? It is neat...

Inspired by Linda Marie

Jared Pickett

Long poem by sam lavere | Details |


When the wind blows, 
I see the depths of your soul.
When the wind blows,
i can see your beauty.

As the sun comes up,
Your face lights up.
As the moon goes down,
My world turns upside down.

When the clouds spread,
I can see the beauty in you.
When the clouds form together,
Our love will be forever.

When the moon shines,
Our love is divine.
When the stars are lit,
Your face is lit too.

As the blades of a saw grind,
Our love will soon be combined.
As i put the key to start our love,
It says access denied.

Did the dog and cat fight,
Or did they play.
Did the cat and does play,
Or did the hide from each other all day.

Does your inner soul have love,
Or does it have kindness.
Does your outer soul have beauty,
Or does it have richness.

When i first learned my ABC's,
I first spelled your name.
When i first learned how to talk,
I first said your name.

As the soccer player kicks the ball,
Our love will never fall.
As the basketball player bounces the ball,
Our love will always stand tall.

When we are together,
Our love will last forever.
When we are apart,
I will still love you with all my heart.

I will lock the door,
As quick as I can lock my heart.
I will stop the car,
As quick it can go.

As the wheels of a car turn,
My heart starts to burn.
As the turbo kicks on,
Our love has only just begun.

When the sound of kids comes to my mind,
I know our love will now combined.
When the people tell me that you love me,
I want to say i love you too.

Now that were all friends,
Our love is good.
Now that were friends,
Our love will never be split again.

Now that our love is combined,
I will never hear access denied.
Now that were together,
We will be together forever.

When your tears come down,
I will wipe them of your face.
When I see a pile,
I can see your face with a smile.

When the water washes up,
Our love is now going to start.
When the wave crashes down,
I can see you frown.

Now that the story is over,
Our love will never be lowered.
Now that the love is finished,
Our love will never be extinguished.

No one can split us up,
We will just never stop.
No one can be with either of us,
Because were  always going to be.

Many see us together forever,
Some see us broke up and not together.
Many see us in the future,
Some see us on an adventure.


Long poem by Bella Cardenas | Details |

Check it, Check it

Gym lights take a little while to run
Flickers, bickers with itself
Fade on
Nightly, he lays, contemplating
The escape of his talent
When did it happen
While I run my manicure on his scalp
Attempting to purge anxiety 
He always said 
The Gym, Mami, it's always artic and bleak first thing
But once I step out onto the court, it doesn't matter to me anymore
All I remember seeing is me, my finest companion in my hand
And the score
Between winning and regret
Baby I want to be the best
Can I be the best?

Echo the ambition in his footsteps
There he stands
I haven't been granted sanction
Into his sanctuary 
Curiosity often maims the conscience
And I creep to rediscover
This extraordinary lover
eyes colored willpower 
This Basketball playing man of mine
What a Man is made out of is always displayed when unseen
Palming the ball delicately like it was his final shot
Check it 
Check it,
Ally opp
Running is part of the game
Some people, he says
Run away
Others, run towards
And there he goes, sprinting, towards a world I cannot see
Only him,
destiny forcing the artist to take the definitive bow
Concluding performance to the empty stands silently screaming his name
Wrap it up, unrivaled, box and deliver
This is the last time
All conceived hopes and dreams constricted into the physics of the free throw
Rebound, there it goes

Appreciate the pose
Of the defeated hero
Beautifully disengaged 
Kneeling in the middle of the polished battle field
Hand gripping the uniform of the brave
Sweat devoutly healing the wounds of his pride
Lifts his head and gets up again
That's my man
Endless sand 
running through the hourglass doesn't mean time 
The definition of time to him 
When the scoreboard reads a tie and ten seconds left in a game
Desperation leaks from hardened eyes
Cold determination 
Seeps through barriers and mixes the flame
Of passion and logic
open and out, 
Flick of the wrist and the shoes with black tips
Go up, burnt orange glory soars
One last shot, baby
That's all you got
love affairsof the guaranteed always allured
Sanctified worship of Lady Luck
Masquerading as a pair of lucky drawers
After a loss like this
Alone, amidst
Broken dreams, a broken heart
Bonds crushed, vanity scarred
By the fatal mistake
Of believing in faith
Basketball is his life's love
I am merely his mistress
Here he stands alone
Shadows I have only seen in deepest repent

Check it
Check it

Long poem by Merv Webster | Details |


My aunty Gerty Gribble was a true blue pioneer 
as she and husband Harold ran a place called 'Bendemere'. 
Two dinkum Aussie battlers, who had given their life's blood 
to fifty years of toiling on their outback cattle stud. 
So constant had the struggle been that Gert would often quote, 
she'd worked her tiny butt off just to keep the place afloat. 
The hours were so demanding she had no time for romance  
and motherhood had passed her by, she never got the chance. 
Old Gert was old and wrinkled when they gave the game away, 
though fit as any Mallee bull and jogged ten k a day. 
They bought a little donga in a Queensland coastal town, 
but sadly, being childless often got old Gerty down. 
She knew that her poor Harold was beyond it, without doubt, 
so Gert would try a new technique that she had read about.   
"You're far too old for IVF," the Doctor kindly said, 
but Gert was not to be put off, she forged on right ahead.  
"It happens that my Harold has been looking to donate  
a hundred thousand dollars to a worthy cause of late. 
However if you cannot help".  "You'll make a lovely Mum 
I'm sure ... so may I ask would next week be to burdensome?" 
Aunt Gert she fell first time it seems and had a little boy, 
which left her Harold overwhelmed and Gerty filled with joy. 
This news then spread like fowl manure and folk were left enthralled, 
The Premier and local Mayor among the first who called. 
One day while I was driving past I thought I'd duck in too 
and see my little cousin ... sort of pop in out the blue. 
Aunt Gert was glad to see me, but she asked if I could wait  
until he woke from sleeping, though did not elaborate.  

Within the hour to my surprise ten other folk called by 
and aunty Gert told them the same and I was dumbstruck why. 
We sat and dunked our biscuits in the tea she'd kindly made 
while Gert was scratching her old head and looked somewhat dismayed. 
The Doctor from the clinic, who'd been playing basketball, 
had wondered how Gert's baby was and thought he'd make a call. 
"It's nice your dropping in" she said, "but Doctor would you mind 
just waiting till the baby wakes - I'm in a  kind of bind." 
"A problem Gert?" the Doctor said, "There something I can do?" 
"Not really Doc.  He's sound asleep,  these folk are waiting too. 
I'd show you him asleep and all, if that is what you'd like,  
but Doc, I can't recall just where I put the little tyke."

Long poem by Robert Ball | Details |

The Fabulous Game Show

Over the years there have been many game shows and some are standouts.
With sport things like baseball, football, basketball, golf, it a good combination.
The game shows of the 50's staples on the game show channels.
Have the makings of the treasured memories that bring us to like our Mom’s perfume called “Channel.”

Things from the past trigger so many of the fond memories.
These game shows have stood the test of time, almost a half century.
Let see Bob Barker started out with a show called “Truth or Consequence.”
That it was a popular game isn’t of question, re-naming a whole town in New Mexico, From Hot Springs leading this game show to its final destination.

Another game, which comes to mind “Candid Camera” not really a game show, a first start I think for what is now reality T.V. 
For your enjoyment this was added along with the games shows, another shakes my thoughts, “It’s Your Life” a star studded tribute to a family member or celebrity.
Another first in realty T.V., the memories I see’

These memories are just as vivid today as yesterday.
Some are still among the last standing game shows “Jeopardy” is a main stay.
I sometimes feel that Alex is my long, lost Uncle or something.
The game brings all categories known subjects and teaches a little about important things.

This is what the Holy Bible teaches and professes. In a game show there are dares and challenges.
The legends of the Bible like Sampson, David, Ruth, were all heroes some were even inspired by the Angelica’s.
This only was for real, they played a game of sorts, were commanded by God to show them His will.
And the Book has stood the test of time all through the ages, and is among us still.

If we as humans played ferociously with the intent of studying the Lord’s road map,
The Holy Bible takes you places you could only dream of. Life wouldn’t be a trap.
Loving, caring breath of the Holy Spirit could come upon us all and the real game would begin.
Playing with Our Lord in His Paradise, playing for a better life in Our Savior’s Kingdom.

So enjoy. There is still another game called the “Wheel of Fortune.” 
So spin away, win your cars, trips and vacations.
But remember this playing with Our Lord not paying attention to His laws and 
Will only yield you a life of faltering, the game will be over, and you might be standing outside of Our Father’s precinct.


Long poem by George Anos | Details |

Why I Write Poetries Part 1

She was an Indian Barbie, long curly lash 
And brown complexion. The hair was 
Perfect, shiny black and she had on a small 
Pink gown to cover her 36-24-36 body. 
Last seen, she still had on her high heeled shoes.

Oh how my daughter cried, “Dolly, Dolly, 
Where are you?” when she found out she left, 
It on the basketball court’s grounds. She took
It along, against her mom’s frequent reminders,
When grandpa brought her with him for a walk. 

She cried horribly, my wife mailed me. Tears 
Rolling down her cheeks even as her mother 
Scolds, tears not for the accusatory words 
But for her Dolly who is gone. Gone away,
Lost and probably in another child’s hands. 

My wife, with a guilt ridden grandpa’s idea,
Told her Dolly wasn’t lost after all. In fact 
She was on her dolly way to dad now who
Works onboard a ship, sailing far, far away 
So he can buy milk and nappies for small kids.

“Punta sya dun kasi lungkot si Daddy di ba?” 
(She went there because Dad is lonely right?)
She asks in between sobs of her mom, who 
Can only nod and kiss her on the forehead
And whisper a “Yes,” the whitest of white 
Lies meant to comfort a grieving, sad child. 

Fast forward to the time I talked to my child
On a long distance call, from a very public booth.
She asked me if Dolly was with me, forewarned, 
I can only sigh a cheerful aye. “Talaga? tignan ko nga!”
(Oh yeah? Let me see her then!) 
Of course she must have meant to talk to her.

I didn’t hesitate, all so suddenly I knew what to do,
Then and there I belted a falsetto, uncaring 
Of the Island people around me, for in that one
Sparkling moment, I was talking to my child not as 
A father but as a long lost friend who misses her.

“HAH! Helloooo Dolly, andyan ka sa barko ni Daddy?”
(Hello Dolly, are you there on Daddy’s ship?)
She asks me after my high pitched hello, asking 
with such gasped longing, with such breathless relief, 
with such childlike delight and innocence. Even as  
Eavesdroppers wonder what harm befell my balls!

The rest of that dreamy conversation is lost to me now.
The wonder of her tone, her concern, her yearning for 
Her doll is all that remains, of the father and daughter
Transcending bounds of love, blasting colors and
Rainbows to a gray span of reality, even for a while.
---Part 2 on my poem list please read too long to post

Long poem by Carol Eastman | Details |

The Playground Bench

Little Lilly wanted to go, to the playground, to have some fun the other day.
And all the other Trolls wanted to tag along, for it looked like fun, they said.
So we went at dusk, for our first try, so no wee ones, would be anywhere near.
For you know, Trolls can play pretty hard, and I didn’t know, just what to fear.

I quickly found a bench as home base, for those who needed to have a time out.
Anyone who couldn’t play gently, or broke anything, found they’d get the rout.
First the sandbox became a deep, dark hole, from which to pop up, to scare, thereat.
Of course, dodge ball became club ball, so you can guess what happened with that.

King of the Hill was a really big thing, since they are all, the most territorial, by half.
Surprisingly, the slide was all-OK, but trouble came from underneath, as they laughed.
They wanted to exact a toll, of course, in the middle, as you passed above, quite brief.
The merry-go-round made them dizzy, knocking everyone down, in a domino motif.

The Seesaws became a great big catapult… to the other far side of the playground.
The monkey bars! Well, they aren’t monkeys, that’s for darned certain, I expound!
They tripped, fell, and smacked themselves senseless with no ones’ help, I ensure.
It could’ve been climbed much better, if not covered in so much drool, I’m sure.

Swings became broken as they pushed the others, all the way to the moon, oops!
And basketball became a slam-dunk, as unfortunately they didn’t fit in the hoops.
Hop Scotch took coordination, and you have to be able to wait your turn, too…
So, as in tag, they started bumping and fighting, until becoming a crazy piled up dado.

Races started more fights as all wanted to win, and threw everyone out of their way!
Hearing a laugh, I turned around to see Grandpa Troll, was ready to stop the moray.
He stood near the bench, as I stood looking up, amazedly, at what they had done.
Now, there were other benches everywhere, but they were piled high, on a single one.

I’ll never truly understand the brain of a Troll, for them a playground’s just not fun.
And they don’t play gently, and are bigger, than our wee folk, as I had already known.
They spent the night, putting things to right, even better than before they’d been broke.
And I finally took them home, to find OTHER things, designed especially, for OUR folk.

Long poem by louise nelson | Details |

10 pieces of silver: a treasure restored or Stella had a house party

alienated and separated has become society
disenfranchised and distant are now the state of families
all of those systems designed to make us feel connected
have fallen short and now we feel rejected
we're just a bunch of numbers and no one even knows our names
we're just a group of digits and that's a darn shame
but we're more than pieces of silver for we do have hearts
for we are the blessed children of the Lord Of Lords, Our God
and it's only in the church where we've kept our sanity
for out in the world it's just total anarchy
we're more than just objects to be used and misused
we're more than just bodies who by our bosses are being abused

dehumanized and desensitized is how we've been treated by the status quo
but we are treasures in the eyes of the God we all love and know
God loves us and it's time we loved ourselves
Jesus loves us and died to give us an eternal wealth
yet people are more concerned with amassing monetary hordes
no compassion for each other and no love for the Lord
we need to seek the word of God with a desire to be changed
for now is the time for our spirits to be rearranged

no longer to take each other for granted but to treat each other with respect
to see ourselves as more than pieces of silver as more than just objects
to be like that woman who lost her coin and diligently searched until it was traced
and then to rejoice upon finding it for her treasure was now fully replaced
to diligently seek the treasure that is the word of God
and then to apply it directly to our hearts
to comprehend the true value of our fellow sisters and brothers
and come to understand that we need to treasure one another
for at some point in life you will need someone's support
for life is like a basketball game you need a team on the court

10 pieces of silver, Stella had a house party
a single coin restored, a parable about rediscovery
for whatever it is in life that you feel that you have lost
just take it to Jesus and lay it on the cross
let Jesus restore it, let your treasure be refound
let God reform you and place you on higher ground
to look high and look low for that which has been misplaced
to seek that treasure of the spirit, God's saving grace
and once it's restored to rejoice and celebrate
Stella had a house party upon the restoration of her faith

Long Poems