Ball Up Poems | Examples

She Whispers to Me

She calls my name.

Trembling, unsure I try to touch her.

My hands upon her as she tells my song.

But she resists.

I ball up my heart and hands.

Listen to me she says.

This is not about you, it is about us.

Don’t touch me, join me.

Relaxing I feel with my heart, not my hands.

And then it comes from both of us.

We roll together in rhythm.

Not too fast she reminds me.

Sweetly, softly, dolce, piano

Hubby and Meowlu

Hubby and Meowlu went out to play, 
With a cricket ball on a sunny day. 
They kicked it around on the soft green grass, 
Meowlu was quick, oh so fast!

Hubby would throw the ball up high, 
Meowlu would jump, almost touching the sky. 
They ran and laughed and had such fun, 
Under the warm and shiny sun.

The ball bounced here and rolled over there, 
Meowlu chased it everywhere. 
Hubby clapped and shouted with glee, 
At his cat so nimble and free.

They played till the sun began to set, 
Both tired out and a little wet. 
Hubby hugged Meowlu, his furry friend, 
A perfect day that never came to an end.

Onomatopoeia

Click-clack the sound of the ref’s shoes hit the floor 
Tick-tock the clock starts 
The coach closes the swinging door
The team parts 
With the starters on the court
The crowd ceases to chatter
The team claps in support
For the team and the game that matter
Players slammed the ball down 
And hit the ball up in the air
Not one girl had a frown 
Never had there 
been more effort for that win 
wows and yays erupted from all 
Everyone had a grin 
For the game they would always recall

Best Memory of 1962

When my twin sister and I were ten, we built snow forts.
It took us most of the day, and we were excited about it.
We came in for a break and ate grilled cheese and tomato soup.
Our cheeks were all pink, and we were laughing.

Our mother suggested we should stay inside the rest of the day.
No way! We were on a roll! And our forts were not finished.
After our hearty warm meal, we put our wet clothes back on.
Headed out there and worked until supper time.

By the time Daddy got home, our yard was covered with snow again.
This was “snowball snow” which means it was wet enough to ball up.
We made a cache of snowballs to throw at each other, and began our fight.
My sister’s fort was low and long; big mistake.  Mine was tall, but tidy.

She was yelling uncle as I clobbered her with snowball after snowball.
We had freezing rain that night, which was a blessing.
School was cancelled for a week, and our forts were frost-fortified.
The best wintery mix we could have asked for. I continued to win.

Merry Christmas, Mom - Part Viii

You died and it's something that I don't like to remember.
You won't be with me again on the 25th of December.
Nine Christmases ago was the last Christmas that I spent with you.
When it comes to your death, I wish I could say that it wasn't true.
You were the most unselfish person I've ever known, you loved to share.
You wanted me to be happy and it was wonderful to know how much you cared.
You gave giant print Bibles to people while you lived.
You were so very special because you loved to give.
It's very sad because we can't be together on Christmas ever again.
Merry Christmas, Mom, you must be having a ball up there in Heaven.

[Dedicated to Agnes M. Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013.]

Red Apple In the Snow

When the cool snow falls, a white mink coat
wrapped around my toes and shins,
beautiful breeze of ecstatic energy,

I will let this Summer fall
as if it were a lovely gown
folded and boxed.
(after all there are some sweet memories)

A plump, perfectly formed red apple
shimmers in the snow
with one bite —

I’d not gorge on it,
lest I’d die.

(yet there were some sweet memories - don’t forget)

The snow couldn’t keep me inside.
It’s where my dreams abide.
An owl blends into its habitat,
yet it is day,
I don’t give a hoot

I must shovel
and ball up
and throw
and laugh
and twirl

(basically act like a little girl)

and tickle my love’s back
with white crystal
diamonds, that make him jump
and run
after some fun.

(I must believe Winter
will deliver)

I pull my knees to my chest
and shiver…

7/13/2020

Loving People- -

O come to me yon revelry
As you constantly stand ever,
Before me...loving people

Rise and rise up thine
Covertly any based on
My animosities

Clever and clover and cut
My stems ever so
Eat my petals as I grow evermore

Wash out thine mouth
With thine own perverted spit
Kneel, curl-ball up liken a fetal position
So you won’t git hurt none of God's loving people

Standards are by standards they are
Procreated by man every second, on the hour every hour
Daily

Sinful, not praying unbelieving haters of 
Loving people

O go yon, travel fest far away
As the air breeze breathe within its self

Rise and rise up thine praise and hands
Covertly any based on I release all my stuff’
My forgiveness, has been forgiven

O come to me yon revelry I stand repentant
As you constantly stand ever, so God mercies rent
Before me...loving people
Alleluia



12/14/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©

Mystified

There's a bright yellow ball up in the sky
Can someone help me, I'm quite mystified
Is it an alien planet
With further advancement
Contacting us with hopes our planet to occupy?

The Soul of An Abused Fiddle

my decrepit, shellacked, pain 
it stretches my melodic thinned soul
into flickering multi-colored 
shattered pieces 
of what could have been (Might-have-been)
of sad, no-one gives a dam tunes
stroked on loosen string 
sounding like two lovers crying in the night  
till my cracking stiffen back 
slowly bends over 
as I try an musically scrutinize 
each fallen departed melody (piece)  
but my imperfect memories  
brake my vandalize, person 
and my meek legs become weakened  
I buckle and fall shamefully 
on jagged hostile rocks
because I, let myself realize 
just how forcibly violated 
I truly am   
no truer look, need be closer  
and i fall
upon my own bed of soiled grief
shouting and crying 
only to ball up 
in a self aware hate
I loathe, you singing liar 
not because you stolen
my words on paper 
but how you came about it 
hurting little souls and tiny young fingers 
to reach your goals  
just to sing 
on a glittering cover hell-bound stage

The Moon

THE MOON
We’ve a friend up there ever so high
A bright ball up in the sky.
There’s a full moon in June
When romance is enhanced, 
And young men on their knees,
 Oft’ submit marriage pleas.

Made of cheese green,
One week later can be seen
To have been nibbled upon
By a heavenly member of the Zodiac.
Pisces, the fish in fact.
At this phase of the moon, 
It is thought that a cow jumped over
As a dish ran away with a spoon.

When another week has passed
It has been nibbled in half
By Taurus, the bull’s young calf.

Another week it looks forlorn
Having been chewed by the goat,
Named Capricorn.

End of fourth week
There is practically no more,
But the black new moon
 Will see it’s  slowly restored.

Bad Verse

It’s the wrong verse written on this crinkle paper or maybe I should just save it for later.
Unfolded… 
Write another line.
Doesn’t seem right.
I’m not sure if I should ball it up or just fold it to complete for later. Treating it like a piece of candy, now just isn’t the time.
Just feels wrong.
The wrong verse maybe?
I’m just not in tuned with my self at this point. 
Forget it no need to save it …
Ball up the crinkle paper and toss….
Wait… Pick it up
Recheck the lines, the words; what do I have to work with.? 
Maybe a line or two I can use. 
Iron out the wrinkles and the crinkles and find a good line.
Add another verse and I’m thinking its worst than the others
Ball it up tight and twist it
Toss….
What’s happening to me?
AGGGHHH!!!
Retrieve the damaged paper from the dark pit of file 13.
I’ll just save it.
Unfold…

Cycles of Love

my mark is fresh like snow in air
brisk and mist will crisp on hair
fists ball up from risk to care
whisper and stare but all is fair
love and reason, flow like seasons
the endings blending and quite seeming
parts of hearts, tho awake or dreaming
half is seeing, the other believing
eyes align and beats will sync
eyes a line for heat to sink
taken quickly for a fall
lovers stroll through memories' hall
echoes stir sight and scent
my senses flight keeps suspense
until logic teaches what it meant
all good things come to an end
summer lighting longer days
more hours to burn for lovers lay
precious tokens we hope to stay
from constant change or parting ways
spring into action to save those astray
a few more years can cost a pay
with lives and sacrifice displayed
perhaps tomorrow will be okay
years can fly like clouds in sky
feelings revealing what to decide
and just like that were back to try
to love the same until we die

Shortstop

There is a lot of responsibility for a shortstop.
Many times, I field the ball on the hop.
As sure as I breathe and am alive, 
I often have to snare a hard line drive.
I become a catalyst for a double play.
We must keep the opponents from scoring and save the day.
I field the ball up the middle and throw to first base.
There is no time to think, but react in haste.
To get the runner out, I have no time to waste.
I must get the ball to first with a strong arm.
That way, I can protect our lead from harm.
I must be the team’s wizard with the glove.
It is hard work, but a labor of love.
I lead my team out on the field each day.
When it comes to winning, I must always find a way.

Entwined

if your heartbeat could ponder to fathom mine what a miracle it would be

if your hand could reach out to encircle mine what a miracle it would be

if your sweet lips could sing like honeydew for my soul what a miracle it would be

if an audition could be won for a vacation cruise with you what a miracle it would be

baby, you got the goods and baby you got the looks, style, and five star plus quality!

we'd boogie on the dance floo, find our love power to score for the disco dance of our
hearts

excited hearts bounce as one night time ecstatic movements light up the disco ball up high

cause we're meant to be the miracle come true

rave reviews for us as a couple of the night on the dance floor

baby, what a miracle you and me would be entwined!

The Spider

bloodless coup,the strip nigh high,the begging art do fold arm of wooden bosom.mine own 
eye's be still,grand of nay one thousand hands do object to folding tents and calling rents 
paid in divisions and ceromonies.i am tempted to ball up paper and wax the floor with mine 
own eye lids.if i ever did castle her,she would marry the virgin poor king,only to spite me 
and only to be myself.the chancellor is vaporous tonight,for i wont go away.too many tragic 
minions in the fortitude of mankind,do i walk with shadows or trap a heart good nothing?
many times i expect she has taken a lover,but it wont be me to tell her all,my everything is 
doll breaking and the fixings are on the table.the wind is sweeping,ever peeking at the 
lunacy of the sun.we are one,universe,but the spell binding effect is most nutricious.be thine 
own hand and beg for fifty more than bargained or anticipated for,for we are known men,old 
poets,and we beg for hearts and thieves,ony to make it go away.fix me,my dear villianous 
vampire.

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