Best Sportsman Poems
Twas the night before deer season
and all through the town
all the hunters were campin';
there was no one around.
The guys weren't all snuggled
and warm in their beds.
Instead they're in sleeping bags
dreaming of mounted buck heads.
They hope to get out early
and see a huge buck!
To hear something besides a squirrel,
I'll wish them good luck!
The schools are all out for
the whole of the season.
The mothers will go crazy
for that very reason.
It causes time to be mixed up
and all in a haze.
The game warden's wife
hasn't seen him for days.
So get all your gear out,
and decked out in camo.
Shine up the ole rifle,
and fill it with ammo.
Before I finish up,
I'll give you one tip.
Don't mess with that warden,
don't give him no lip!
It's almost time to head out,
and listen hard for a grunt.
Happy deer season to all;
have a safe and fun hunt!
Two opposing warring factions, meet upon the AstroTurf
Battlefield, in the sporting arena of Victory or agony’s defeated,
Warriors of the pigs skinned javelin, tackle each other at the
White lines of collisions honor, marked by the numbered banners
Of the fifty yard kick off point, yielding unto the pillars of the
Goal post of champions!
In the heat of battle these heroes of gladiatorial games, called
The NFL, thrill and chill their fans to the inner bones of the
True sportsman living within all us, born in this great nation,
Known as the U.S.A.
In this victorious field of dreams, no illusionary visions exist,
For these powerhouse gentlemen, gain each footings sacred
Ground by athletic skill and sheer raw brawn!
To the meek goes the booing of the fumble, to the strong
The million dollar playoff championship, cheered on by their
Ever loyal crowds of adoring fans, whom are enthroned by
This sport of endurance and strength of will!
In this modern coliseum of champions, no touch down goes
Without a standing ovation, or Styrofoam’s thumps up signal
Of approval, in these concrete surroundings this is truly a time
Honored sport of traditions, to be remembered in the
Historical records of the future as a classical game,
To challenge the strongest of athletes!
Golden are the rings given as victory’s insignias,
But in the hearts of the players and their loyal fans,
The price of the championship game is worth the cost
Of every single ounce of sweat and exaggeration, shown
On this epic field of battle!
As the crowds roar, with excitements thrilling kick offs
Point of the triumphant, field goal point scoring, their
Human wave of appreciation, is set at the release level
Of thousands!
In the homes of America the volume levels of the cheering
Is off the ratio scales charts, as chairs go flying backwards,
And Bowls of snacks explode everywhere, for the winning
Play has just been committed, and the championship team
Takes the final center field of the victorious!
Hurray for the great sport known as football,
The American sport of champions has again earned
Another season of splendor in the turf war of victories,
Behold our favorite pastime, may this pigskin colors never fade,
As our flag shall forever wave, for this is truly the great
American sport of athletic skill personified!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
It’s funny how my father’s hobby became mine. He has been a sportsman all his life, he played basketball, volleyball and softball all his youth, but his real passion is soccer and even though he is 55 years old now, he still keeps playing it and loving it. He has had all kinds of cleats, all brands, all colors, different styles, but it does not change anything, he still plays amazing. But one thing I do find hilarious is that every time he comes from a game, he cleans his cleats, he washes them and takes them with such an unbelievable affection, that I’m beginning to think that he might love them more than he loves me, but now I do know the feeling of a new shiny, hard and beautiful pair of cleats. I still recall when he took me for my very first pair, I could not believe he was doing it for me, I was so excited, but now I realize that what I was excited about is that I could be like my father for just a moment when I had them on. Ever since I was little, I remember my daddy playing soccer, leaving home all dressed up, ready to fight, and win the ball to make a remarkable roll on the field. The playing field that we both love, the field all covered in grass, all green, so delicious and soft, so colorful… being crashed by everyone’s cleats and the rolling ball, feeling the sunlight on our skin, and the wind on our faces. Having a team, an extra family with whom we could find support and create new ideas, new plays so we could smash the opponent. So yes, I loved watching him play and cheering him up more than I could ever like watching official and famous soccer teams. I do find funny the fact that my father’s hobby became mine since everyone says we’re too similar, and even though he also has a son, his daughter is with whom he shares that connection. I love the fact that our simple relationship was started thanks to such a manly sport, and curiously, to transform me into such a girly girl.
A very famous champion,
an inspiring enthusiastic man was he
Who has now departed , yet is quoted,
for many pearls of wisdom
Vociferous king ,
of the boxing ring
A sports star
And such a sport too.
A motivating peace star who shot up to deserved stardom
The earth be proud of such mortal "clay"
Who swayed and reigned hearts,
as well as the pugilist's kingdom
Notes: about the boxing Great:
These below are the selected facts about Muhammad Ali that I personally found very interesting:
First of all that he had the same birthday as my beloved bro Alihur i.e 17th Jan,
The info below is copied from Wikipedia:
Muhammed Ali Clay
Other names
The Greatest
The People's champion
The Louisville lip
Children9, including Laila Ali2]
Awards
5 time Ring magazine fighter of the year3-time lineal heavyweight championSports Illustrated 'Sportsman of the Century'BBC 'Sports Personality of the Century'CSHL Double Helix Medal Honoree (2006)Presidential Citizens MedalPresidential Medal of Freedom[4]International Boxing Hall of Fame[5]Hollywood Walk of Fame[6]
Cassius Clay was born and raised inLouisville, Kentucky, and began training as anamateur boxer when he was 12 years old. At 18, he won a gold medal in the light heavyweight division at the 1960 Summer Olympics in Rome, and converted to Islam shortly afterwards. At 22, he won the WBAand WBC heavyweight titles from Sonny Liston in 1964. Clay then changed his legal name from Cassius Clay, which he called his "slave name", to Muhammad Ali, and gave a message of racial pride for African Americans and resistance to white domination during the 1960s Civil Rights Movement.[12][13]
He was known to for freestyled with rhyme schemes and spoken word poetry, boxing and as political poetry for his activism,
Dick was a guy with a suave golf club
Who only used it to eat his grub
Sportsman he portrayed
Golf he should have played
For now he cannot fit in his tub
3/28/2013
Craig's contest
One minute, one hour, one day, one life
The same face, the same eyes
Ask this baby born what does he want to be
When a grown man in a world full of insanity
He had dreams and lives to dress
Been a hero or a sportsman at least
But now as he look at his sons eyes
He pledges for a life that lies far from his sight
Become a hero to his son? Become a prince to his daughter?
This man has no self-identity, he never knew himself
Lived a life for other eyes to see, as being someone else
He now tries to get the past chards to build the tracker
“What makes me happy?” he soars
A rare selfish moment of a busy lost mind
Closing the eyes and pretending someone to be
Or eyes opened to face the mysterious realty?
“Whatever, I don’t know”, those are his preferred words
Too vague for a man that had dreams as a boy
Too much for a grown father with empty pockets for his sons
And too slouch for his eyes as looking at the mirror
But, another day, another thought
Chills and pessimism may get weaker
But the black shadow may become stronger
The father looks at his family’s smiles… and gets away for a while
Our loving sportsman, Sen. Pacman
Never missed a chance of being a samaritan
His humility and hard work earned him great reputation
And yet his whole body endured more refutation.
I'm a home sportsman
And what a career I've had,
Watching sports around the globe,
I take the good with the bad.
I have to keep my fitness up
So I drink coffee by the cup,
Excuse me while I adjust my lounge chair,
Wow, my horse just got up.
But one thing's always bothered me,
It makes me cringe with fear,
If my remote control finger's injured,
It might end an illustrious sporting career.
He made no move at all
As the alarm clock went off.
But ten minutes later,
It was obvious he was awake.
He lifted himself out of bed
And went towards the bathroom.
He shaved himself
With a Gillette Techmatic
After having sploshed himself
With a double handful
Of icy cold water.
He washed again, dried his face,
Put on some Monsieur de Gauviche
And got dressed.
He wore a Brutus shirt,
A Tonik suit and a pair of
Shiny brown boots.
He was six foot two,
And he smoked sixty Players
Medium Navy Cut cigarettes
A day, and he lit each one
With a Ronson lighter.
His name was Titus Hardin,
And he had the biggest
Wardrobe in London.
He was a fair-haired man
And very good-looking.
He was thirty two years old
And a bachelor,
And lived near Richmond, Surrey.
He was immaculate,
Wore long sideboards
And a long moustache,
And his hair was shortish
And well-combed.
His shirt was light blue,
And he wore a dark blue tie.
He wore two rings on each hand.
He washed himself
After his usual breakfast
Of toast, black coffee and health pills.
He cleaned his teeth thoroughly,
Put some more cologne on,
And then went to do
His isometrics.
His name was Titus Hardin,
And he had the biggest
Wardrobe in London.
He was born in London in 1940.
He went to Eton and Oxford,
Had taught at Oxford for eight years
But was sacked.
He had been an Oxford Rowing Blue,
And got a degree in English, Art and History.
His father was Lord Alfred Hardin, M.P.
Titus loved teaching,
And not many people know the reason
For his dismissal at the age of thirty one.
He was nearly expelled from Eton
For smoking, drinking,
And being head of a secret society
With secret oaths, but he was
Too promising a sportsman,
And all the boys respected him
As a prefect.
He was a fair-haired man
And very good-looking.
He was thirty two years old
And a bachelor,
And lived near Richmond, Surrey.
His flat was beautifully furnished.
His name was Titus Hardin,
And he had the biggest wardrobe in London.
(This jackadandy's original title was "An Essay Written by a Guy Who Was Too Lazy to Finish It", and it dates from my mid-teens.)
Ladies, if you marry a sportsman that loves the outdoors be ready for some beautiful gifts
On your birthday, a new rifle or fishing pole, how about a bass boat or four-wheeler on your anniversary
Ladies gets smart! Don't wait until you have seven rifles, three shotguns, two bass boats, and two four-wheelers, a Jeep and a canoe
If you want a Coach or Dooney and Burke, new dress, or perfume go out and buy them a month before Christmas, birthdays, Easter, Valentines, and etc.
Show them to your hubby, give him a big hug and kiss for it thank him for the nice thoughtful gifts!
10/30/2014
Now pick apart
My S E X U A L I T Y
and tell me these traits
That must define me.
From my heads to my tippy toes
Am I more man or Mo?
Dont hesitate
While you emasculate
They must call you Webster
Because you act like now.
Is it because-
I dye my hair to ignite these eyes
Or I skip to the beat
And step in time?
I dont wear clothes that pop
My pants sag NOT snap
I dont death at the drop
But Ill always clapback.
I pee standing up
But cry standing down,
More wit in this sass
To asassinate a clown.
I flick my wrist-
sideways
But have hair on my chest,
I dont pluck my brows -
For days
I choose ladies over men
To spill the tea
But I can outrun a sportsman
If someone is chasing me.
I got Fem tropes.
I pull man ropes.
I dont vape, I smoke
Im riddled with jokes.
Got a snaggle tooth
That bite will your truth,
Im not GQ clean
But I on the cover if you know what I mean.
Liza, Judy, Gaga, Babs
Parade my phone
with disney pics and washboard abs.
Denzel, Deniro, Statham
Are the dudes I roll
I dont spit whiskey
But ill drink vodka from the bowl.
I believe in truth and the American way
I pray to God,
YES I was born this way.
So paint my sterotype
With your sheltered PC hype,
I am just a ruggedly handsome prototype-
Now continue to archetype me
As I drop this Mic.
FOOTBALL
Playing in a team,
kicking football in vigor,
captain controlling.
To win or lose: No factor.
Sportsman spirit of the game.
Excited viewers enjoy.
03/09/2019
Bite size poem No. 39
Contest by Line Gauthier.
Kick - A - Cola
Endorsement money
Sports entertainment
Ethics and commerce
Challenged are values
……..” I don’t like
……..that my Son
………drinks Coke “
..Now that was lament
..Of Christiano Ronaldo
..Now: Kicks - A - Cola
Dad finally moved those bottles
Love for his son Vs. endorsement
A battle A game that must be won
How can a sportsman endorse poison
Not late for other dads to emulate him
The sporty father- set a new standard
As spectators let us not get carried by
Those 4Billion$ hit on the Coke shares
That may well be another game, arena
Applaud the sportsmanship on display
A father finally decided to Play the ball
No more a clothes hanger, finally a Dad
.
Can stop here but to complete the image
The bottle in center stage, biggest Brand
What is the content - sugar water untruth
.
“There is nothing in Coke that is good 4 U”
Yo Man! why then promote this mix in sport
“Inside the leather bag you are a consumer
“Entertained consumer Deluded to - core”
Someone puncture the veneer kick free
Primate-consumer-consumable-ate
Strangely one of biggest brands
A billion cans opened per min.
A 60 Billion $ market cap
…Am I divided…...Figures and
….On 1 hand ………….justification
…..Passion ………………..Built upon-
…..Another ?……………...…Deception & Untruth
Can I sail on 2 ………….……..C’mon Give it a
Boats or give a …………………..BOOT
Poem on Christiano Ronaldo moving Coke bottle
Thariq
Is to be up on Sky glittering as a star
But his fate his name to be with his birth registrar
Thariq
Not of tricks
But a sick of Autistic
Just seen
His fourteen
Mother to leave
Letting his father to relieve
A sportsman turned salesman
His father
Sweating hard for his son’s wellbeing further
Breaking the dark in a day of locked down In Dharga Town
Thariq walked in the time day passing down town
In a state of physically his mind came down
In a police post at a junction
The curfew made it a lonely location
Thariq drew the police attention
To beat,to bleed the agony how to mention?
Beyond the child’s repeated objection
Thariq fell down like a star wounded
Burned down not but turned down
Thariq the sick,was in a state of critic
In the hands of police behaved lunatic
Forgetting their oath to be patriotic
Public torture all what the complain
In assault of police going mental pain
He cried of pain
Beating again and again like with a chain
In the enviers of catching virus
News caught via media making it viral
One to no Mother
More mothers to join
One to only father
Further to come on line
To bear all his pain asking where is mine?
To the one in his puberty
To share his poverty
To bring to books all guilty
To see his smile in his prosperity
To give to his affairs a top priority
To think to be with him is their responsibility
To go down for him to pray Allah the almighty
What happened to Thariq is a matter of shy
The grace of God to all comes from Sky
He is near like a star to one comes in cry
How blessed Thariq to make his eyes wet God dry?
George suffered a traumatic left ankle injury,
When he was only two and a half years old,
But many a complex reconstructive surgery,
Meant that he could achieve his ambitions.
His parents are both competitive Ironmen,
And his brother represented Great Britain,
In both the triathlon and duathlon, no swim,
Also mum has run ten London marathons.
One of his aims in competing in Rio grand,
Was to inspire the crowd and mass public,
To “go out and do anything they want to do,”
Because drive is inbuilt thru his childhood.
He did his first triathlon in 2009, and at 17,
Won a bronze in 2013 at the London Worlds,
And in Rio, he finished seventh in his event,
PT4, proving a true sportsman for team GB.