Best Stadium Poems
Across open fields
where birds and butterfly play
Soft and inviting
Blue mountain range from afar
looks upon my stadium
Heidi Sands
6/20/22
Excitement is brewing for the play-off game,
who to claim a podium close-up fame,
winner of 2018 21st FIFA World Cup's name.
Scheduling and planning their dream
to cheer on their favorite team.
Fans at the game watching united,
dressed in their lucky sports team attire, delighted,
cold, getting rained on, and excited.
Television armchair football enthusiast
muttering, "C-o-o-l call. Revenge at last."
He follows every move, wishing he was there,
but at home watching on his big screen, a bear.
Everyone in the stadium is bouncing off the walls,
inspiring cheers and rants, raves and calls.
While the Armchair enthusiast with his own calls,
within his walls his soul appalls.
The hero standing in the middle of a melee, with a thin
breeze around the football field, using a Cruyff Turn spin,
then brilliantly threading the ball home winning
the World Cup for his country. It’s only the beginning.
6/25/2018
The championship has been awarded every four years since the inaugural tournament in 1930 for except in 1942 and 1946 when it was not held because of the Second World War, a global war that lasted from 1939 to 1945.
Poetry Contest: 2018 World Cup
Sponsored By: Mark Toney
My stomach is a stadium
give it little food it quarrels
much food it beats drums
little food it complains loudly
no food it throws stones
it shouts at me after meals
blows trumpet when satisfied
and plays saxophone when excited
A stranger thinks it a stadium
Old Trafford Stadium is my stomach
where fans shout, sing, quarrel-
when Wayne Rooney scores a goal
or Didier Drogba misses a penalty
It was the Nebraska Corn Huskers annual spring game
When near the end they called out Jack Hoffman's name
A seven year old boy on treatment break from a brain tumor
And today he was going to get the ball and run for an amazing score
Running onto the field 60,00 fans up on their feet
Everyone sensing they were about to see something neat
As Taylor Martinez set his line and turned around to little Jack
With a field of dreams ahead he said okay now you're my running back
Handing him the ball he quickly ran left than scooted back to the right
And on that field their were twenty one other men who joined in with his fight
Making a break into a clearing seeing a whole lot of daylight just ahead
My soul so awake the whole crowd cheering for of all them now he had lead
Over the goal line and carried away in a boisterous parade of celebration
Oh how Jack did shine even with all of the problems that he was facing
I'm glad I got to pray for that little boy hopefully many others do too
Such a special gift in sensing joy in just knowing throughout that it is certainly true
Search: Jack Hoffman Cornhusker
Dear Graduate,
… Sometimes, a spring breeze softly blowing
whispers that a presence needn’t be seen to be felt …
… And sometimes, the people piling onto the benches
of packed bleachers sense that a sacred space
is simultaneously filling …
… And often, clustered families gleefully
crane to glimpse their cap-and-gown-clad graduate,
but once the band pipes up
and you triumphantly take the field,
you’ll know you’re in perfect view
of missed and remembered mentors rejoicing
up, up, up so high, so very high … in stadium seating …
… And usually, principals and presidents will proceed
to spawn perfunctory speeches … politely received …
by the assemblage patiently waiting …
… But always, always, count on this classic climax
creating an incredible crescendo:
Thunderous applause will
rumble through the bleachers,
rambling onto the field, and
rocket through the air,
rolling onto the heavens
as a sprinkling of caps rains
up, up, up so high, so very high
and … for a slice of a second …
before starting to tumble,
mortarboards are a sea of confetti
tipping their corners in displays of gratitude
to the angels smiling upon you … from
up, up, up so high, so very high … in stadium seating!
E. V. Wyler
Chihuahua Football At The Rose Hill Stadium
Watching football at home with my little dogs on a cold winter night, I realize that I coach my
own football team.
Running deep far into the football field at the Rose Hill Stadium (Which is my vegetable-dyed
Persian rug that I bought at an estate sale to cover my hardwoods.) is Piglet, a young and
highly spirited white short-hair Chihuahua, who happens to also be a neutered male, ripped
with lots of muscles and little body fat. Piglet leaps up high and is able to catch in mid-air
the fluffy white piece of parmesan cheese covered popcorn with his cute little white teeth.
(That I just brushed with chicken flavored toothpaste after his bath)
Tessie, the long-haired, black and white female Chihuahua, who is not so lean, executes
most of her plays as the defensive tackle position. She often blocks Piglet from catching his
popcorn and also profits from his fumbles, by intercepting his popcorn and eating it before
she is able to execute a perfect touchdown. (Haven’t managed to teach her to delay eating
her popcorn yet)
Each year they get better and better, next year they might be ready to take their show on
the road. Until then, they have until the Super Bowl to practice their four footed maneuvers
and tricks. At best, they could make it to Letterman's Stupid Pet Tricks some day soon.
(No harm was done to animals in preparation of writing this poem or playing Chihuahua
Football)
I stared at all the jerseys
Worn by Yogi, Mickey, Lou,
The Babe and Derek Jeter,
Thurman Munson, Roger, too…
And I realized all these Yankees,
Those alive and those who’ve died,
Wore those uniforms, no matter when,
With dignity and pride.
For so many baseball players,
Playing ball was all they knew.
They were lucky that success rewarded
What they loved to do.
At the stadium, we cheered them
For each time they got on base,
With an inkling of whose jersey
Will join others in that case.
It has been home to baseball’s New York Mets.
For a time, it also housed football’s New York Jets.
This is a place practically any New Yorker knows.
It was part of the World’s Fair in Flushing Meadows.
This has been a spawning ground of sports history and more.
It first opened its doors in 1964.
Look out in centerfield, and new construction you will see.
What is there is a rising new sports facility.
Citi Field, soon to be home for the Mets will look fine.
New Yorkers will see games there starting in 2009.
After 2008, Shea Stadium will be history.
However, it will stand in any Mets fan’s memory.
Dear Graduates,
… Sometimes, a spring breeze softly blowing
whispers that a presence needn’t be seen to be felt …
… And sometimes, the people piling onto the benches
of packed bleachers sense that a sacred space
is simultaneously filling …
… And often, clustered families gleefully
crane to glimpse their cap-and-gown-clad graduate,
but once the band pipes up
and you triumphantly take the field,
you’ll know you’re in perfect view
of missed and remembered mentors rejoicing
up, up, up so high, so very high … in stadium seating …
… And usually, principals and presidents will proceed
to spawn perfunctory speeches … politely received …
by the assemblage patiently waiting …
… But always, always, count on this classic climax
creating an incredible crescendo:
Thunderous applause will
rumble through the bleachers,
rambling onto the field, and
rocket through the air,
rolling onto the heavens
as a sprinkling of caps rains
up, up, up so high, so very high
and … for a slice of a second …
before starting to tumble,
mortarboards are a sea of confetti
tipping their corners in displays of gratitude
to the angels smiling upon you … from
up, up, up so high, so very high … in stadium seating!
E. V. Wyler
FAIR GROUND AND STADIUM
Remembering open ground and stadium.
Loud applause and cheerful noise to hear.
Games, shows, fair, exhibitions, circus at random
attracting populace throughout the year.
Memories of immense joy on childhood day
Moving in circular motion on swinging wheel.
Rustic village seller knew well to play
flute violin in tune for kids to thrill.
Now video games startling kids in fair ground.
In stadium robot toys speak, make movement,
Yet still fireworks and crackers produce loud sound.
Present crowd on clamor as in past with excitement.
10/29/17 Photo 1
The sounds of The Past Contest by Eve Roper
Third Place
Babe, Mickey, Lou,
and all the rest of the
ghost of the past,
did you hear?
Your home is coming
down soon, no more
games there for you
to watch.
History there was
a marvel to read
about, just sorry
I never made it there.
Wrigley and Fenway
will be only parks left
where Babe and the rest
played.
Will miss you Yankee
Stadium, so many
World Series played
there, the house that
Ruth built will be
no more.
wrote 9-26-08
1923-2008 Last season for baseball to be played there,
will come down shortly after season ends.
For thirty-three years,
you stood there in full view
to so may sightseers
at Broad Street and Pattison Avenue.
South Philadelphia
was the site where you stood.
Sports memories were a plethora;
they were both bad and good.
To the Eagles you were home,
where there were many games of football.
From Franklin Field the birds would roam.
You also hosted baseball,
where the Phillies played many a game.
I have remembered it all.
Some players made the Hall of Fame.
You remain as pictures and imagery
because you no longer exist.
Your presence no one will ever see.
However, memories will persist.
The real mind-blowing tournament,
Her football cups prized ornament;
Leaving without one eyes hollow,
Avid fans cease to squad follow...
Tough strikers playing out their hearts
Defenders halting ball that darts:
It's about luck but chiefly skill,
During practice better self kill!
Player free to display sweet role,
But dismissed as freak,no scored goal
How dare you miss a penalty
When what's at stake no novelty?
FIFA justifies earned dollars:
Blameless final whistle colours;
Out to make it competition
With ears for the right petition
Hosting it image-defining,
The stadium chosen keeps shining;
Sure,does raise an economy
Like would sound agronomy...
I learnt:Big budget in Brazil
For round leather retaining zeal.
Always a tough business: Tournament
But women take along ornament:
Old Testament's and New Testament's
They put it on, they're in firmaments...
Now and again for rearmament
Why can't it be in tournament?
"Sure, football is played in stadiums
But last week, I was here for idioms;
Our resource persons on podium,
A blaring microphone for medium
Stadiums some women storm for Legend,
Who shall their multiple worries end
To their feminine wishes bend
And, in short, a million naira lend:
Women not for men from the roadside,
Who should the other way face for bride:
The men worth their embrace or kiss
Ones in real, not titular office!
Someone meditated, someone prayed.
Count your blessings,share your blessings
In this uncertain times,
Mother's Day looked different this year
Weekends look boring this times
Our carefully crafted illusion
Of predictable security
An invisible enemy
Illuminated hidden lines
Si movement comes most often without motion
When this is over
We may never again take for granted
A handshake with a stranger
Full stores
Crowded night outs
The stadium roaring
So love at this times