Best Racquetball Poems
Being stuck is how I learned I am a cartoonist,
A poet, a writer, a painter.
Being stuck is what makes me
Seek something new that will interest me.
I know when my brain needs something new.
Her dendrites are crying for another language,
vocabulary words, new methods of painting.
I know I must feed her, so she can be the most
creative happy fun-loving dancing self she can be.
This is when I begin learning something new.
I do not care what it is - racquetball, paintball, Harry Potter,
something I did not know about yesterday. To loosen her and
allow her to be the best she can be. I either pick up a book
about something I have never learned or I pick up a hobby. If I have a broken ankle, I click on the History Channel to feed my dendrite highway and retain enthusiasm.
Categories:
racquetball, education, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
Apricot skin
Apricot face
Apricot hands
Apricot knees
Apricot apricots
Apricot cat
Apricot paint
Apricot baby's bottom
In my world I always think
Of a pricey apricot dress
My husband's pal paid way too much for it
Wanting to impress a girl who modeled it at a table for us.
Wanting to show off that he had three hundred dollars,
He gave them three hundred dollars for that dress
To surprise his girlfriend, Kathy.
Kathy was surprised.
She would have never chosen this dress.
It was so expensive, he pouted until she wore it to
Every dinner, supper, lunch, and finally to play racquetball in.
Apricot always reminds me of poor Kathy and her irritation.
Categories:
racquetball, emotions, fun, funny, girlfriend,
Form:
Free verse
Football, volleyball, baseball, softball,
Racquetball, handball, basketball, hardball. . . .
There're lots of sports in the world you play with a ball,
And you can't play any of them if you're an oddball.
If you want to be good at any such sport,
You've certainly got to give it your all.
No such sport is as easy as playing with a snowball.
Choose one of those sports and pay all your attention to it.
If you don't devote your energy to it,
You'll surely fall into a downfall.
Before your practice, you shouldn't take a highball
Or any other kind of alcohol.
If you do, you may get into a pitfall.
During a game, there're numerous dangers to forestall.
If you don't take enough care, you may rush into a sidewall.
Or you may even get your head crushed against a stonewall.
Be on guard not to catch cold during a snowfall.
If you make any such blunder, you'll end up being a goofball.
After your practice, take a good rest, which is a real cure-all.
Whenever you feel dry in your nose, use a spray of aerosol.
If your girlfriend is with you, ask her to put on a camisole.
If she's a beautiful girl from Nepal,
Have her use a brilliant orange parasol,
Whose design reminds you of a refreshing waterfall.
If you feel uncomfortable kissing her,
Try some toothpaste with xylitol,
Perhaps with a little bit of menthol.
That may remind you of your ex-lover
Who spoke beautiful Provençal.
When you think you've eaten too much,
Start watching your level of cholesterol.
If you don't, you may be no better than a neanderthal.
If you do, your life will get back to a pastorale.
Well, I think that by now I've told you all.
(June 28, 2015)
Categories:
racquetball, humor, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh, my, how excited, elated, I would be
to receive sudden financial prosperity.
The true appeal would not be the tangible
but the freedom I have longed to handle.
It is so easy and fun to imagine
the idyllic dream-cottage I would fashion.
If my pen and intent have successful flair,
Perhaps I can transport us all there.
One super, great thing about my new home
is the location in a unique, universal zone,
where society, by law, must leave me alone
and never again cause me or mine to groan.
First, I’d hand my home dreams to Thomas Kinkade
whose involvement my enthusiasm would persuade.
He would build my perfect cottage in a glade;
quaint goose bump appeal with each modern update.
Country, antique and Quaker furnishings throughout
would be joyously bought using my new clout.
I would slowly decorate within and without -
extend the thrill, I would without a doubt.
A Walt-Disney-mind will fashion green grounds
over which perfect billowing clouds will abound.
Cute, gleeful birds will provide uplifting sounds
and precious flowers will pop color all around.
Somewhere on my lush, beautiful property
will be awesome fun for others and me;
ATVs, a bowling alley and bumper cars;
a racquetball court where everyone stars;
a baseball field where rivalry will spar;
an inviting lake twinkling beneath the stars
where fishing and swimming are never barred;
and, a babbling brook playing nature’s guitar.
Every morning will wondrously begin.
Before any voice has even spoken,
a gorgeous song will be piped in,
Cat Steven’s singing, “Morning Has Broken.”
Categories:
racquetball, beauty, dream, fantasy, freedom,
Form:
Rhyme
The village was nestled on the coast by itself, as if God had put it there all alone, on a shelf.
The residents were isolated just like the town, and universally uninformed from the top on down.
It was no longer a lavish seaside resort, gone were the badminton and racquetball courts.
It was a mere shell of its former glory and wonder, as if a great storm had come and tore it asunder.
And in the village an old man remembered when he was a boy,
how he played with wooden sticks, Lincoln logs, tinker toys.
Then came toys made of plastic so shiny and new.
There were so many you could tear one up, and replace it with two.
And that was just the tip of an iceberg of stuff
that has grown bigger and bigger cause it's never enough.
When the little boy grew up he bought his first car
that could outrun the men who wore the tin stars.
He was hooked on the speed and the style and the flash.
What a bargain he thought to get so much for so little cash.
Back then very few cared if cars damaged the planet;
they were fast, looked good and were a great chick magnet!
Soon the young man got married and in the blink of an eye,
the grandkids have him thinking about that uneven sky.
The one that lets too many sun's rays come in.
the one that has worn the polar ice sheets too thin
The one that won't let him leave this earth as he found it,
with food and water for all and God's halo around it.
Now he worries and frets, what can one person do,
that could make any difference in this environmental snafu?
Then a light bulb came on in his troubled mind.
I will get the ball rolling and lots of people will follow and find,
that the earth is too fragile to treat just any old way,
then maybe, just maybe the whole village will make everyday Earth Day.
Categories:
racquetball, earth day, environment, religious,
Form:
Lyric
Was gettin' kind of loud,
On the court one day,
The proprietor called out,
to keep the noise level down
Hence the title,
Your tongue-twister clown!
Categories:
racquetball, allegory, confusion, funny,
Form:
Light Verse
Words we sallied back and forth,
I feel the burn, all right, behind my eyes;
Slow faltering motions, pained waves of sound,
Decision made, my life goes on, yet strangely dies.
Smiling my good intentions out of bounds,
Your face, you know, still does this;
Strands me childlike, lost, clinging to toys,
Praying in silence for one last kiss.
I spend my life beating on closed doors,
So sweet the hurt, I believe it's true;
Wanting you magically to open them up,
In knowing I thought the world of you.
I say I can accept things with ease,
You see me cold, I assume, I shrug it down;
Not once did you ever say how you felt,
So I wrack in the car from town to town.
With my bruised desire slapped and sober,
Was it necessary, you think, after all,
The demeaning sleep-over brush-off that
Cried: No more games of racquetball?
Perhaps we are right to claw for the embers
And kick and piss the fire out;
Until it hissed and smoked and died half death,
Leaving me decimated and still with doubt.
Categories:
racquetball, angst, lost love, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Peppermint Christmas angels were doing the cha cha cha.
“What else can you do?” Asked a pinecone name of McGraw.
We can do the petootsie dance, and we can tease our maw.
“What else can you do?” asked a prissy critical macaw.
“We can twirl and spin, and we can make delicious coleslaw.
We can play racquetball and we can spot an editorial flaw.
We can peel potatoes in a fancy way if you get them raw.
We are pretty talented,” said the angels, and we can draw.”
Categories:
racquetball, christmas,
Form:
Monorhyme
Some people find comfort in living the same day
Every day doing what they did yesterday in the same way.
I know a man who ate a ham sandwich with cheese plain
No condiments every day and cut exactly the same
I thrive on change. Daily seek out something new.
Learning racquetball kept me entertained in 1982.
As soon as we had the tournament all interest was gone.
I dropped racquetball never going back. For tournament I’d won.
Some women wear the same exact haircut for twenty years
To change it up would instigate and initiate such fears
I know a woman whose hair looks like 1960’s Loretta Lynn
A different style is suggested every decade by her kin.
My hair has been black and blue, beige and turquoise too.
If I had to keep it the same way twice it would make me blue.
Some teachers can print their worksheets a month in advance.
Given a choice, I would rather have gigantic wood-ticks in my pants.
Some people live the same year every single year.
That would be my absolute biggest baddest fear.
Categories:
racquetball, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
I bought the Aztec Spirit Shield and an ancient voice began to speak.
She gave me information about the Mexicas, as they called themselves.
Did you play racquetball? I asked her. She said they had a game.
It is a combination of racquetball, soccer and basketball.
The feathered serpent on the shield stared me down.
Did you have slaves?
She laughed.
We could be slaves, and we were.
We could sell our children, and we did.
I tried to not look horrified.
We sold ourselves too, like you do.
We do not sell ourselves! I retorted.
Oh, yes, you do, she told me. You sell yourself up to eight hours a day.
You are as much I slave as we were.
We could buy ourselves back, too, like you do.
Did you like to sacrifice humans?
Of course, we did!
And you had a god?
We had hundreds of them. We borrowed gods from many cultures.
Were men faithful to their wives?
Yes. All of them.
Did you have dentists?
How else could we have filed down our teeth and replaced them with gems?
I gave the shield to a museum soon after purchasing it.
Not wanting to hear more.
Categories:
racquetball, culture,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Four hours of word games a night, with two I-pads on my lap, is absurd.
But in the time it takes one to process I can be playing another word.
Painting has slowed down a bit since I realized that poetry is fun.
I was averaging four completed canvases a week for five years.
Now I barely complete one.
Painting is my most relaxing hobby. She helps me get less stress,
and retain my composure
When someone else gets Game of the Week.
For I love that kind of exposure!
Playing with children is a fix I need daily. Lucky for me,
I finally snagged a career
That allows me to get that fix at work which is ever so dear.
In the summer I am busy from sun up to sun down, replanting my flowers.
Their exuberance and delightfulness helps me
retain all of my happiness powers.
In the fall, my hobby must include meeting my friends
for wild women campouts.
We are nutty, and funny, and it is fun to have singalongs and shout-outs!
It is weird how hobbies change from time to time, clock never slowing….
Twenty years ago if you had asked me my hobby would have been sewing.
Forty years ago my most intense hobby was playing racquetball,
I won a league championship in 1980, three months
after I had a baby, after all!
Written Jan 28, 2019 Contest: Hobbies Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
Categories:
racquetball, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
Our burdens are lifted—it’s spring break, after all.
Though ocean breezes, surf sounds, the smell of sunblock,
fresh tans and bottomless margaritas at the beach can be healing,
we decided to vacation on campus and find joy in small, everyday things.
Yesterday, we went to the farmer’s market, where one coffee vendor was making real cappuccinos and another was baking fresh breakfast pizzas. The combination reminded me of the 'Antico Forno Roscioli' cafe, near Campo de' Fiori, in Rome.
Then we hit the gym pool, climbed a rock wall (slowly) and played racquetball (rather poorly). We tried a dance & fitness class too—I thought I was in shape but ugg, it was hard to keep up. Peter (my 27-year-old bf) practically collapsed, but maybe he was angling for mouth-2-mouth.
Straight brag: Peter and I are getting new laptops today—MacBook Air M4s—mine’s baby blue, his is silver. So today seems like Christmas.
I don’t know if you people have computers, or use the Internet, but if you do, you’ll get it. I don’t know exactly when it’ll arrive, of course, so I’m pacing our suite.
I’ve always loved tech. My brother started teaching me about computers when I was 10—you know—hard drives, logic boards, power supplies, all of it. I remember it taking about two days to set one up and move all of the data. Today all I’ll have to do is set the new computer next to the old one and click migrate.
You gotta doff your hat to the tech wizards that came up with that, but the hours spent doing it the old way were fun.
“Something’s lost yet something's gained” - I think Joni Mitchell sang that.
.
.
Songs for this:
Am I the Same Girl? by Swing Out Sister
Mountain or a Molehill by Kris Berry
Categories:
racquetball, boyfriend, computer, fun, holiday,
Form:
Free verse
SPACE
Our wonderful marriage had three keys!
Love, Compromise and SPACE were these!
So third and last is SPACE that I’ll write for you!
Just in case you need a clue!
JoAnn loved books, painting, jewelry making and knitting
With so many wonderful skills all of them were fitting!
She had many more amazing talents you see
But she still made plenty of time for me!
My career took much of my time you know
But I still needed SPACE for my hobbies to follow
Racquetball, fitness, bowling, poker and bridge were a few
Because I had much that I was motivated to do!
But JoAnn and my family were Priority Number One!
And I wanted to ensure that our whole family had fun!
So life for us was always hectic for sure!
And it was our Love, Compromise and Space principles that made our lives secure!!
Categories:
racquetball, happiness, love, marriage, true
Form:
Rhyme
Someone told me that all Smythes are crazy, and I believed them
At first, until I met one
Who was delightful, and kind, and did not generalize people
He gave me a chance, which was a marvelous thing.
For I had not been willing to give him one.
Another told me that old women are dried up.
Not knowing any, I believed it.
Until I became an old woman
And realized I am more excited about life than I have ever been.
I paint, cartoon, dance, play racquetball, and write poetry.
So I am not dried up.
They told me that all white people are stuck up.
I looked at my skin. It is peach not white.
I was relieved, for when they tell me, I usually believe it
Until I meet one.
And realize when we are talking about people
ALL never makes sense.
I should have known this right away.
I am an identical twin, and we agree on practically nothing.
My uncle told me that the Scottish are stingy; I believed him
Because I was young, and I had never met one.
I did not even know what they were.
But then I grew up and had a DNA test.
And guess what? I am Scottish.
And I am not stingy, so I guess that one is out the window too.
My uncle is still smirking about this one.
Categories:
racquetball, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Let’s win the racquetball tournament Carlie said.
What she meant was “let ME win the racquetball tournament”.
My girl-next-door-charms usually hides my super competitive spirit.
This time was like all of the others.
When I won she stopped speaking to me.
No big loss.
Categories:
racquetball, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Prose Poetry