Best Sportsmen Poems
Above the clouds are buffalo aplenty
Shot by whites as Native Americans cried
The tribes made use of all portions of their prey
European settlers only sought their hides
Palin bragged of killing moose as a young child
Did this tough meat truly feed her family
Perhaps their heads were displayed o’er a fireplace
And Palin’s explanation -- chicanery
A dozen ducks once roamed a wooded forest
First babes, then mother, lost their lives to sportsmen
It makes you wonder who could eat so many
More likely targets for those with a killing yen
Early man killed only to survive the wild
Natural order brings hunters into play
There’s no “sport” in killing for other reasons
Souls of those needlessly killed rise above the fray
Staring down in sadness as others are shot
Where is the logic and the humanity
In amassing trophies while chugging down beer
Who can stop this carnage caused by vanity
For Constance’s “I Am Sending You a Gift of Poetry, Dear Heart” contest
Inspired by “In a Patch of Heaven” by Constance~A Rambling Poet~
Written by Diane Locksley
The players take the field
Pitchers and catchers warm up
Pre-game practice is underway
The coaches and umpires discuss the rules
The coaches shake hands and walk away;
The home-plate umpire yells "let's play ball"
The game is underway.
The pitcher takes the pitching mound
Kicking and digging his cleats into the ground
The catcher sits behind home-plate
That fast ball he anxiously awaits.
A few practice pitches back and forth
Just pitcher and catcher;
The team is ready despite the weather
It really doesn't matter,
The umpire calls for the first batter.
Up to the plate the batter steps
Into his batting stance he's set
The pitcher throws an energetic curve ball
The batter swings at the ball
He misses;
"Stike One" the umpire yells
Deeper the batter digs into the ground
The batter swings at the next ball that flies from the mound.
Crack!
The 80mph fast ball flies deep into center field
The outfielder runs to make the out
Fielding the ball;
The center fielder dives,
The batter is out.
The game is just about done
The home team is down by just one run
Desginated hitter steps up to bat
Putting on a helmet and removing his hat,
He steps up to the plate
Digging his cleats deep into the ground
Standing close to the plate.
Here comes the final pitch
A knuckle ball with a slight twist
Oh no, it's beginning to mist
The batter swings following through to the ball
The bases are loaded
The crowd is going wild
Contact, a high-fly ball;
It's going, going, gone
A grand slam!
The home team has won.
The teams line up
Sportsmen-like they shake hands
A job well done
Gatorade to re-quench their thirst
Our team has moved into first.
The coach says "Ok boys, take a knee",
"It's time to announce todays MVP".
To the batting cages we go
Even if our parents say "no"
The coach sits back and says "Let's go!"
This is the story of a baseball player's legacy.
childhood innocence
freedom to roam natures way,
Galactic image.
Another day, adventures sought, friends to meet,
rise at five, sun just rising, head for the fields,
long day ahead, dog by my side, decisions to make,
camping in the hills or den making in the woods,
fishing in the stream, brook jumping, make tree swing,
bike ride, rock climbing, swim in the lake, bath tub cruise,
glorious days of summer, no responsibilities, so free,
packed lunch, warm bottle of water, stale roll with cheese,
scraps for the dog, life was so good, days so long,
we were builders, fishermen, mountaineers, hunters,
sailors, sportsmen, explorers, astronauts and pilots,
sunset time to head home, memories, tales to tell,
ready for dinner, exhausted, look forward to another day.
Long day's of desire
memories of a lifetime,
simple black and white.
Composed 08/23/2017.
No, my mother Atheist said,
Long live cricket, God is dead,
Debbie Downer's Nihilist thoughts,
Total negativity she taught,
This is Debbie Downer' doormat daughter,
Saturday sportsmen off to the slaughter,
Yes, God is dead,
Long live extreme sports,
That's what negative Norma said.
If it were only me, I will be doing anyhow
Nobody would have been there to challenge me now
Now I look back into the face of the future,
What I see, golden grains, people of peasant pictures;
Red roses rooted in the soils of 29th August,
Some still sailing other down in the dazzling dust;
Blessed blueprint on earth pages by sincere sages,
Firm footprint by men with messages for all ages:
Ingrid Bergman, the mother of motion picture
Won worldwide awards, with firm face and features.
Michael Jackson, king of pop, sensational singer,
Dances and drums, thrilled the throng with Thriller*
Isabel Stanford, first African American, actress- leader
To win Emmy Award, Guess who is coming to dinner*
William Friedkin, award winning American producer,
The French connection*, the exorcist’s*… super screenwriter.
Richard Attenborough; British born, powerful TV producer,
Multiple Award winner for Gandhi *: a daring drama.
Rebecca De Mornay; an American film and TV actress,
Thrilled in the Testament* and her roles in Risky business*
Oh, Lauren Collins; an alluring actress, a colorful Canadian;
Thrilled in The Next generation*; she shares my day: a Nigerian.
John McCain, an ambitious American politician, a senior senator,
From Arizona, lived a lively life, formerly an active aviator.
Thom Gunn, a passionate and multiple award-winning poet,
For priceless poems collections…the man with night sweats*
Charles Kettering, American, an inspiring, intriguing inventor,
Invented automobile self starter and engine-powered generator.
Too many to mention: poets, actors, sportsmen and philosophers
Men and women: wise, wild and wonderful; lively, not loafers.
Adeite Adeleke, see the soaring stars who share thy dear date;
Learn from their fame, faults and frailty, focus on faith and fate.
The Liquor Bottle
Conical at the top beautiful sides offers it support
Like a forest of oak trees in a bar, beautiful patterns they create
The shining reflective glass reveals the attracting liquid content
Salivating onlookers surround the container, ready to pounce on it
Like hungry man eaters, the opening pop sound they eagerly wait
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
Sweet, smoothing and addictive taste it has, others may say
Your heart, liver, brain and whole body, useless it will make
Inviting cancer, creating hangovers and bad moods, that’s the part it will play
Heavy clinic bills and short lifespan, that’s the price you will pay,
But finally in a six by four and seven feet underground you will lay
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
In the young and able men of the society we can’t rely
In dirty waters, by roadside and in dangerous dens they lie
Family fights and broken marriages have become the main cry
Then your friend death knocks at your door very early
It’s under that green large tree, your remains we will burry
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
Future doctors, sportsmen and leaders, in alcohol they dance
Fathers, mothers and whole society, let’s stop this menace
By doing so, development, ability and intelligence we will enhance
Institutions will grow and have a society that runs
We dream of the best society, but do we see it at glance?
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
( By Ngugi Waweru)
Jealous, Jealous, Jealous
The swiftness of the Vessa just killed me,
That speed and the grandeur of the seat,
The frame’s shine and the four wheels free,
The maroon leather upholstery neat.
The diagonal pattern on the seat and back,
Which made diamond shapes all over,
Reminded me of Pringles golf wear sack,
That sportsmen buy, their goods designer.
The prestige of owning one was immense,
A Vessa with thin black joystick, gray box,
Orange on/off button for your own sense,
To use wisely to be the batteries’ prox.
That privilege, that air that they all held,
Even made their severe disabilities trivial,
Counted them as people who so gelled,
With normality, the cool and the convivial.
I couldn’t walk at all well, sore feet often,
And in Primary Two asked of my physio,
That she give me in order to cheer, soften,
An electric wheelchair for my portfolio.
I wasn’t asking for a Vessa, not at all,
Just a Bec, ‘cos that could be anyone’s
They were blue, just for indoors, did stall,
And there were some just sat there, tuns.
My feet got sore and I was badly in pain,
Because mum insisted on Clarks shoes,
Old fashioned, hard, so I did complain,
Ås I saw trainers that would fit my toes,
My mum’s strict faith said no to sense,
No to love and yes to abuse, I’d loose,
So I explained to my physio, no nonsense,
That Christianity meant my pain, choose.
My mum thought trainers were worldly,
Demonic, non-Christian, rough and sinful,
But I didn’t know my credibility fully,
And so my physio said no more mouthful.
I knew it would’ve given me a life,
A mouth, a mode that could let me talk,
‘Cos I couldn’t talk and walk, my strife,
Together, simultaneously, talk and walk.
So at school I was always jealous,
Of those with a Vessa who got respect,
From every staff member zealous,
To enhance their freedom prospect.
I got my Vessa at university, shiney,
But I saw it rationally and with thought,
Understood something had blatantly,
Gone wrong, since it I’d only just bought.
But I appreciated my Vessa so much,
At Uni, no-one knew the status or fuss,
That’d been attached to it, not to touch,
At my special school, uh ha, for all of us.
A Games Maker at London’s Paralympics 2012,
Stephanie used to be a competitor able-bodied,
In the Great Britain team, mind on the Olympics,
Even tho’ since 11 her eyes were bad, crummier.
One day when she was training in a 50m sprint,
She felt a sharp, sudden pain shoot down her arm,
Which she just ignored, but it soon re-emerged,
Such that today she’s possesses nerve damage.
She’s a para-swimmer and competes in contests,
With other disabled sportsmen and sportswomen,
Her first competition as such was in Sheffield city,
2013, the British International Swimming Champs.
So at the Commonwealth Games held in Glasgow,
2014, Stephanie won a silver for the 100m freestyle,
And then in Eindhoven which is in the Netherlands,
7 golds: 1 for back, 1 fly, 3 free, 1 relay, 2 medley.
In Funchal which is on Madeira, Portugal, in 2016,
On this approach to Rio Stephanie won 2 golds,
At the European Championships highly spirited,
1 for the 50m freestyle and 1 for the 100m butterfly.
In Rio Stephanie won the silver in 1 min 10.32 secs,
And sealed gold along with her familiar colleagues,
In the 4x100m medley relay 34pts. From Preston,
She practices in their Club, born 7th February 1991.
What is this idea of excellence
Where “Good enough” just can’t stay?
What is it in man that makes us plan
To strive deeper inside each day?
What secret whisper abides within
Drawing us to mountain peaks
Transcending possibilities
And incomprehensible human strength?
What the early Greeks once called arate’
A yearning deep within;
The spirit of us all to heed the call
To rise above nimbus winds.
And tornadoes turning, always yearning
For something uplifting ahead;
Misfortune, defeat is the fate one meets
Or unfathomable greatness instead.
For doctors, dancers, farmers,
Masons and carpenters, too,
Teachers of subjects from highways to heaven
Do the best that they can do.
As philosophers, statesmen, presidents
And sportsmen of all kinds,
Artists, musicians and astronauts
Sail through space and time.
And what makes soldiers lay down their souls
That others might live instead;
To take the fall and give their all
Last measure of life they led?
Does anyone know how avatars grow
Or gold is purged from stone?
Excellence, I hear, is never so clear
As the higher one strives
to go.
Welcome winter month into my little haven of dreams and joy
your rouge cheeks and your fresh air kisses will do us all good
Let me worship in your ice rink of fun and chatter with my friends
while I sip on cocoa from a foam cup and share a story or two...
Winter tide greetings from Jack Frost is always a warm embrace
when it comes from the heart, we neve tire of the lit up snow
Sunshine loves to shine especially on a cold cold day, and we
are the lucky captives of lovely rays, each time we put our faces
up to the beautiful ice blue sky.
Hospitable season that you are you are generous with inventive games
such as ice skating, sledding, skiing and angel making techniques,
Oh let us not forget ice fishing for those wonderful sportsmen
who love to fish...
I welcome you winter, dressed to the nines with wooly attire
the only thing you do to me dear January, is inspire to aspire.
With the world cup fever on and Lagaan 2015 pitching in,
Let’s get to the pitch and taste those 22 yards,
Though we don’t have Jumani’s prediction from the numbers and the cards,
Still nerds can be sportsmen and sportsmen can be nerds.
They say laughing is great for health-
With busy release schedules when you forget your better half,
who knew some people would gather to make you laugh.
Take out your playing shoes and fold you cuff as
They say ‘All is fair in love and war’
So, when we gather let’s try our hands at tug of war
When some think the games are just for some
We have been generous to include something for all
And we added “passing and dodging the ball’
With the heat beginning to take the toll,
If you are thinking of a mock-tail,
Who knows only a lemon can make you fail.
Those who think tough waters are just as easy to sail
And they remain in high air,
We jumble up their minds with the musical chair.
February and its much-vaunted chill
comes down with vengeance, and does what it will,
this lake that in summer jams full with boats
is now frozen over, nothing can float.
Most people stay home at this time of year,
and a whole new set of sportsmen appear,
seeing as I walk, the snowmobile tracks,
patterns in the snow, absent where it lacks.
There are lots of trails in the nearby woods,
lots say the sledding around here is good,
I see them out there, riding towards the sun,
a pack of black wolves, having lots of fun,
still here the hum of engines blaring far off,
I think I’d try it, if not for the cost…
A few yards ahead sit a small shanty,
a man drills the ice so vigorously,
uses a hand-augur, this guy’s old school,
looking to find fish in waters so cool…
he has three lines out, now it’s time to wait,
drink beer with his friends, shoot bull half the day,
hoping to see what his efforts will bring,
only the steadfast go for ice-fishing.
Beyond that are tracks, coyote from the looks
the lake now a highway, free of the woods,
you see where they loped, crossing back and forth,
to field and forest, always seeking more...
more rodents hiding beneath the white snow,
the ice makes it much easier to go.
In the distance a town, by the lakeside
blocks of ice formed in a castle do rise,
cut from this same lake, for the festival,
the kids run around it, so life’s not dull,
and by that rises the toboggan chute,
its outrun is the plain of icy blue,
every year folks go down, sometimes quite far,
then walked back, amazed, by just where they are.
I can understand that, making my trek,
as I walk along, I must crane my neck
to take in the mountains, brilliant and clear,
unobscured because no trees grow out here,
the broad, sweeping vistas that we all love,
for me the feeling of that is enough,
most folks stay inside, but I love to take
long walks out upon a well-frozen lake.
.
Palpable
fear lurks
a mystery
in the Air
a certain
eerie feel
suspects
an killers
can come
anywhere
The strike
is invisible
no tools or
weapon no
no trace no
fngerprints
It’s in thin air
creeps ..
shudder... horror
Now everyone wears masks
All are Suspects All are Culpable
Three new cases in the neighborhood
Death comes slow. is inevitable. No cure
Norms have changed. Hiding face is civil
Cannot trust None. Keep Social Distancing
At least two arms length. Barriers are drawn
Police Judiciary Governments are all clueless
Doctors Nurses collapsing on desk ...Helpless
Cut off all people from people or All Are DEAD
SURE. There is no cure. Prevent, escape, delay
Every breath- A killer rests...................bottled
What did I just inhale ? ..........................broken
...................................................................m
You will not even know ....................................e
Till a laser on forehead ....................................n
.
The city never sleeps............................a
byline, we were told ...........................tiny
a happening place.............................prayer
young in sinews ...............................of hope
a big bucket list...............................kindles in
so much to fulfill .............................good faith
before we kicked.............................in the belief
nothing be missed...........................that the earth
Buy whatever sold............................will hear us heal
exclude deep sleep............................itself. Eventually
rest can be delivered............................Good prevails.
In your home cave now.............................Amen !
time to reflect recover. recoup
.
Amitabh feels the world is not going to be the same again.
Now...
Yoga gurus have shut their shop . All ashrams are closed.
We are told to meditate from home take online classes
Sit in lotus pose. Padmasana. and pray..Pisses me off
None has the balls to defy curfew...all bars closed
Sportsmen...gym goers...flexing biceps...men !!
The only party in town ...hold your breath..
are for drinking of Cow urine...YES.
They say it is a cure.
Raise a toast to - GauMutra
All are invited ! At least they are showing some balls .
Ping Pong
A Game going on
Aus Govt \ DJOKOVIC
A Champion Vs Continent
Down Under A sport sinister
Short hearing Quick disbursal
He’s deported back to Serbia!
“Expelled for not taking drugs “
Undefeated undeterred Play ON
Mandatory needles Comply None
Healthy individual He scares CABAL
A sporting warrior now most Feared
Unprecedented rallying VAX NOVAK
A reminder a wake up call all SundrY
& Entertained TV - ADDICTS. !!!!!!!!!!
You can’t puncture A Rock by NEEDLE
A warrior is made in body and IN SPIRIT
Warriors trust thy blood sweat UNALTERED
Champs don’t ingest unproven ExperimentaL
Medicines can not be forced UPON A HEALTHY
Tyranny Under Public Health FALSE ARGUMENTS
Any sane and fit doesn’t need A LOADED SYRINGE
Leave that muck for the cattle and DRUG ADDICTS
Someone please tell me what’s FULLY VACCINATED
Real Men are NOT defeated by Altered DEFINITION
Tennis at High Tea now served With M-RNA FLUID
Who owns definition of health. for PUBLIC HEALTH
Who owns the sporting turfs. Grounds I Walk
Who defines our immunity TedRoss. Fauci
Our food and our intake. My blood Body
Unanswered Qns. Who Knows ? Gates
What makes Who ownsTest Labs
SPORTSMEN. Doctors?
What makes Politician
CHAMPIONS. - GOVTS.
What makes Who sells
A H U M A N. Snake oil
Who handles from butt
Organizations OF
CRINGE It is New Racket. Tennis grafted with A SYRINGE
Visual - Humans being made to comply with A Gun on Head
.
Alligators never blink
Bewitching their prey with stares
Creatures submerged in the night
Deep divers holding their breath
Easily hiding away
Fearing their discovery
Generations have wrestled
Hesitant charms and potions
Investigating danger
Joking and trying to calm
Killing them before they kill
Left in the depths of despair
Maimed combatants cannot run
Never to be seen again
Open mouths beg for a chance
Places in the heart, pulsing
Questioning real sanity
Responsibile sportsmen wait
Sensual dangers are near
Trusting in dark destiny
Understanding nothing now
Visions of regret seep in
Wilting melodies of life
Xylophone percussions sound
Yellow horizons steaming
Zero time to turn back now