Spring Basketball Poems | Examples
These Spring Basketball poems are examples of Basketball poems about Spring. These are the best examples of Basketball Spring poems written by international poets.
To be or not to be polite.
I sit on the terrace
enjoying the spring sun
the sea is calm
I see in my binoculars
the president
of Portugal taking
his daily swim
Later in the day
he will fly
to Alentejo to
judge in a dog show
My wife to read
the Facebook
takes a dislike to
a red-haired woman
says she is vulgar
tells me to be polite
She has a decorated
walking cane
wears green fingernails
changes the color
of her nails
to match her dress
of the day
The ides of March are upon us,
With spring to follow closely in step.
As we begin to welcome St. Patty,
And all those Easter eggs lie ready to prep.
Seen and heard is the madness of basketball,
Collegiate craziness to never end.
As the hoops are tallied to an adding machine,
While would be champions begin to spend.
A renewed beginning is nature's way,
That brings some warmth to open eyes.
As daylight savings slowly unveils,
and longer days lead to nights demise.
Fresh upon this cycle of growth,
The lengthy passage yields few rules.
Only to follow a path moving forward,
Eventually to end...with April fools.
Three Point Shot
You reach the line, an almost perfect semicircle, racing from one side of the court to the other, avoiding the hoop In a soft wide arc, Your shoes biting deep into the floor, As you come to a halt, Announcing it to the world with a short, piercing squeak Tearing through the atmosphere, to the stands With the ball nestled in your hands, just yearning to take flight, You rise, knowing that your defenders can’t reach you Everything but the ball and hoop a distant memory Your hands travel through the same motions you know so well, Knowing, even before the ball leaves your grasp, you’ve already won, This time You finally release the ball, with a quick, decisive snap of the wrist Sending it arcing through the air with pinpoint accuracy, Racing towards the net
Silence, and then, swish
Crisp, clear as a spring morning
Play continues on
Three Point Shot
You reach the line, an almost perfect semicircle,
Racing from one side of the court to the other, avoiding the hoop
In a soft wide arc,
Your shoes biting into the floor,
As you come to a halt,
Announcing it to the world with a short, piercing squeak
Tearing through the atmosphere, to the stands
With the ball nestled in your hands, just yearning to take flight,
You rise, knowing that your defenders can’t reach you
Everything but the ball and hoop a distant memory
Your hands travel through the same motions you know so well,
Knowing, even before the ball leaves your grasp, you’ve already won,
This time
You finally release the ball, with a quick, decisive snap of the wrist
Sending it arcing through the air with pinpoint accuracy,
Racing towards the net
Swish
Crisp and clean as a clear spring morning
The ball drops through the net, as the net snaps upwards
You breathe a sigh of relief and relax,
As play continues on
red buds are blooming
song birds are swooning
tonight, on the weather
they say it will snow
cardinal's crooning
mushrooms are mooning
temperatures dropping
the wind's going to blow
spring in the south is
the craziest season
winter's reluctant
not ready to go
eighties and twenties
within the same weekend
surprising nobody
people here know
the bread and the milk
are a different matter
those disappear like
a bolt from a bow
in just a few days
not a bit of this matters
March madness is coming
the tourney's the show
when your alma mater
is still on the ladder
if twister is twisting
or rising floods flow
your roof could blow off or
hell could freeze over
you're breathless, oblivious
abask in the glow
Fifty-seven years I'd trusted my pins* *legs
to bend to flex, to twist, to spring
my body to soar
to the basket on wings
Then one day as I gathered myself
to take my first shot
I felt my knees go 'creak'
my heart went cold, I felt old and weak
Sure enough, I had barely lifted up off the ground
as for my shot, it arced mostly down
I told my friends I felt a bit out of sorts
And wept for the end of my romance with sports
Winter, spring, summer, fall
These aren’t the seasons at all
The first is Christmas giving
Makes me happy to be living
March Madness is a blast
Three short weeks, so it doesn’t last
Vacation may be the best
Anytime you go on a quest
College football is the best of all
Unless you are a goofball
There are three words we overuse
Or at times refrain
There is such potential in them
They bring you close
And make you or the person special
Three words n eight letters
All of us have used them
Not using them can be deadly
Letting them not slip
Letting the times pass you by
Will make you hard hearted
Flowers will bloom in spring
What is the fun if don't use these
Soon winter will come
The words you wanted to say
Will now be
Three words n nine letters
I loved you.
Byzantium
It is August its heat taste of dust and desperation
The despot feels that soon time will change it will
Have to share with clouds and cooling wind.
For not, it has the power but in the eyes of his general
He senses a mounting revolt but he prepared and he
Will show no mercy he will absorb them to his inner core
Where they can burn forever, and replace them with
Generals he can trust, but can he?
August is tired, angry too he gave them a great spring
But he will show them they can`t topple him so easily
Nature, once on his said is turning against him
The mighty oak tree whisper to lesser trees it is time
For the sun to share power has it not heard of democracy?
Stubbornly he hangs till clouds like battleship comes
From the north and end, his reign drowns him in torrential
That will destroy his life`s work