Best Hoopla Poems
O'er the undulating prairie where grows soy beans and corn,
Generations of premier basketball players have been born.
The Hoosier State of Indiana, where budding talent is so replete,
Where small towns can conquer titans, shocking them in defeat!
Long before lads and lassies leave the cradle to crawl upon the floor,
Dads have hung a backboard and hoop above every garage door.
Seldom is seen a Hoosier home without this indigenous adornment!
The flame begins early in Indiana, stirring souls with excitement!
Ah! The exuberance builds as high schools begin a brand-new season.
Not to support the hometown team is almost akin to treason!
Creative cheerleaders perfect frenzied gyrations honing their skills.
The marching bands look sharp having perfected intricate drills!
Moms, Dads and coaches take pride in their young men and women,
As they mentor, teach and train them to develop their acumen.
Young warriors opposing each other upon friendly fields of strife,
Strengthen character to meet the challenges facing them in life!
A Canadian invented the game using peach baskets and a soccer ball.
You daren't mention that to a Hoosier fan - you're apt to start a brawl!
But Hoosiers don't bother themselves about that, caring not a whit.
Basketball is an inbred thing in Indiana, everyone is happy to admit!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Written at the request of the Indiana Basketball Hall of Fame, New Castle, Indiana,
for publication in their Winter 2004 publication, "Indiana Basketball History Magazine"
Platoons of imps march up and down my street,
Threatening mayhem if I don't give them a treat!
There are cowboys, Indians and phantoms galore,
Holding me hostage at my own front door!
They present their goodie bags for me to fill;
(Giving them an apple doesn't at all thrill).
Sure, they'd prefer a Reese's or Snickers treat,
But, by jove, I'm keeping them for me to eat!
as a GMO gluten
and monosodium allow
wing glutinate free
NON SPORTS fan, holy cow
a gentle fear shakes, rocks,
and trembles thru every dDhow
ting fiber of me one hundred
and forty five pounds (give or take a hun
dread ounces) finds me feeling
like a castaway
on an alien nation, none
share totally tubular,
where athletes revered
as holier than thou hook hen pun
which craft
this wordsmith doth shine,
and experiences the equivalent run
tooth ha goal post, and envision
me octogenarian widower papa
paying attaboy with "way tug hoe son"
or a similar comment,
which unasked for unsolicited praise
would be worth a ton
as if this bone a fide wordsmith
would cherish as a sentiment hard won,
which figurative convenient truthful
( Earth in the balance) tangent
arced geometric fender
to express gratitude
(nevermind their gender),
who unwittingly boost and tearful lender
my morale doth render
akin to a spender
for anonymous readers,
yet moost likely an appealing sender
via flattering comments,
an emotional legal tender
this sensitive chap also makes apologies
(and steers clear) ass king for any alley byes
unwittingly me to refrain ushering my demise
hence...THANK YOU
unknown gals and guys
this honest to dog statement
summoned deep within me...noel hies
NOR NON FAKE
saccharine steeped sincere lies.
Existence travels lineally
In whirlwinds of emotion
Colored logarithmically
And perceived equivocally
Expression mere epitaph
Knowledge serendipity strung
Till the bubble bursts
Frozen peaks of discovery
Cataloged in the hermitage of worth
- Mark Time -
Hermetically sealed
Peddled for a dime
looking into the bloodshot eyes of loneliness
i witness things so gross and sweltering
the coldness of the footprints on my existence no longer injures me
the depth of my impatient hunger applies for aid not even close to distantly present
the best bet is to massage the cramps now defiant with no other choice
i bleed from the voice box praying in timelessly endless continuum
i may die from the stress of wishing for a wish's cure....
nevertheless, here i go once again with steam....knee deep in the hoopla....