Best Tryouts Poems
See this girl in the painting, this skinny girl
working on a puzzle at the bottom of the stairs.
With big rimmed glasses and her plain brown hair,
she’s an ordinary girl, with nothing seeming special.
Now see this girl. . . really SEE this girl.
At age 12, she’s just been fitted with new glasses -
They are black horn-rimmed - an utter disappointment
in the life of a young girl.
Some guys now call her four-eyes, and they don’t even notice
the beauty of her light green eyes and
long lush lashes behind those big-framed glasses.
But still she likes to fantasize, and in her dreams
she’s idolized by every boy she likes.
Always having wanted to be part of the “in” crowd,
she was a girl that struggled for popularity.
However, she’s been learning of another way to be!
Seeking out girls more like her, she hardly has to try
to fit in with her new friends. And now she’s much less shy.
With fun new friends, she is witty. She makes them laugh.
She’s even feeling pretty, wearing lipstick frosty pink.
She’s discovered she is smart in all her classes.
This girl who now is wearing black rimmed glasses!
She gets into the Glee Club, even sings on PBS!
With her athleticism, she also has success.
She makes Top Twelve in tryouts for cheerleading.
And though the student body does not vote her through,
she’ll soon get over it. She’s blossoming!
The glasses she will change for contact lenses,
and she does not know it yet,
but soon enough - a number of boyfriends she will get!
Also years of dance lessons and being in recitals
has boosted her self confidence.
Both her body and her spirit are transforming!
See the girl in the painting; a puzzle she assembles.
She does not know that one day
her mind will be on puzzles of a very different kind:
She will be assembling many words inside her mind,
and she will be partaking in an art called poetry.
I know all this because
the girl inside that painting - that ordinary girl -
is the one I used to be.
Based on the painting "Assembling the Pieces"
from Contemporary Figurative Artiste Stephanie Deshpande
for the Contemporary Free Rhyme Contest of Cyndi MacMillan
I hope you will see the painting at this link. When I saw the girl, I was
struck by how much it looked like me as a young girl: http://www.stephaniedeshpande.com/porfolio/
Categories:
tryouts, character,
Form:
Free verse
WISDOM
He had a thought,
He said a word,
He performed an act.
Looked back!
The word didn’t agree with
The thought,
Neither did the act with
The word.
He was perplexed!
He forgot the thought,
Erased the word,
Obliterated the act,
And
Started anew!
Myriad tryouts after…
He managed,
The word to agree
With
The thought,
And
The act with the
Word!
He achieved wisdom!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
23 APRIL 2013
*Athena (Minerva), Goddess of wisdom, daughter of Zeus, was called “thrice-born” for to be wise meant to think correctly, to speak correctly, and to act correctly.
Categories:
tryouts, education, wisdom,
Form:
Epigram
Where I’m From
I’m from tea parties and tutu’s,
From fingernail painting and Oreo cookies.
I’m from jumping on the trampoline,
And water sprinklers in the front yard.
I’m from summer days and sleepovers,
From zoo trips with momma,
And long car rides on summer vacation.
From scary stories by the bonfire,
And catching fireflies in an old peanut butter jar.
I’m from melting ice cream cones and playing make believe.
I’m from pool parties with Uncle Charlie,
And sunburns at the beach.
From backyard BBQ’s and watermelon slices the size of my face.
I’m from watching fireworks on New Years Eve,
And playing kick-ball at family reunions.
I’m from polka-dot swim suits and birthday parties.
From bubble gum stuck in my hair,
From cooking with mom, and shopping with my Mimi.
I’m from walking my dog on Saturday morning,
And watching cartoons all night.
I’m from cheerleading tryouts and track meets,
And washing mom’s car on the weekend.
(Even though it never really got clean!)
From picking bluebonnets,
And going to Rockport every summer.
I’m from more lessons to learn,
And more goals to achieve.
I’m from looking at the better side of things,
And keeping my head up.
I’m from never forgetting the good days,
And growing up to be the person I know I can be.
Categories:
tryouts, familysummer, car, summer, new
Form:
Light Verse
When we were young, we'd freely roam
While supervision stayed at home.
We played the seasons' major sports
On vacant lots and playground courts.
No tryouts or permission slips.
No uniforms or coaching tips.
No judges, umpires, referees,
Or grownups whom we had to please.
Whoever came could join right in.
We'd choose the teams and then begin.
No clock was used to time the game.
We played until the darkness came.
We mended balls and broken bats
And yapped and scrapped like dogs and cats.
In worn-out shoes, we'd all day run
And tanned by sun with friends have fun.
Together we would strategize
And future glory fantasize.
With candy bars as fuel we'd play
And straggle home at end of day.
We taught ourselves what's right and wrong
And how to play and get along.
We sought no trophies nor acclaim,
But played because we loved the game.
The regimented kids today
Obey whatever coaches say.
They sadly do not know how free
A game among themselves can be.
Categories:
tryouts, freedom, friendship, games, history,
Form:
Quatrain
My palms would sweat. I’d get physically sick.
Why was I always the last one they’d pick?
There were times I would not be selected at all,
for a physical game, I was pretty darn small.
I watched as they’d point, whisper, and scheme;
avoid if they could choosing me for their team.
My Dad told me, “Son, God made you this small,
to prove it’s not height that makes someone tall.”
So, he set up a goal post, and bought me a tee.
He told me, “Success would be all up to me.”
I practiced my kicking whenever I could.
I worked very hard ‘till I got pretty good.
I’ll never forget that hot summer day,
tryouts for high-school to see who would play.
The teasing began as I stepped on the field.
My jersey so big, they laughed and they squealed.
The coach even grinned, as I heard him say,
“This is not a good sport for peewees to play.”
The practice was brutal, even more than I thought.
But then, towards the end, at last came my shot.
Coach explained how important a kicker would be.
Last season they had lost four games under three.
He placed the ball down on the thirty-yard line,
forty-yards from the goal I had claimed to be mine.
There must have been twenty or more who had tried,
all woefully short as the coach merely sighed.
With hands on his head he looked to the sky.
I was the last to step up and ask, “Can I try?”
Everyone laughed, ‘till he shouted, “Enough!”
then mockingly said to me, “Show us your stuff.”
As I carefully positioned the ball on the tee,
it seemed the whole world was laughing at me.
So, I called on the power that God will provide,
then glanced to a nod from my Dad on the side.
Three great big steps and my toe struck the ball.
I caught it just right. I knew how after all.
It seemed like slow-motion as the team stopped to stare.
The ball gently tumbled as if floating on air.
The looks on their faces I could never replace,
as it split through the uprights with plenty of space.
I looked towards my Dad now beaming with pride,
then turned to the coach with his mouth open wide.
Cheers were replacing the laughs I’d revered,
on the day that hard work overcame what I feared.
I went on to college and professional ball,
but that was the kick I enjoyed most of all.
I don’t think I’d ever have worked quite that hard,
if I wasn’t picked last on that old school yard.
Categories:
tryouts, inspirational, sports, upliftingdad, god,
Form:
Rhyme
Sometimes things don’t work out as planned
not that Nate planned it, such is basketball love
and strong are the threads of the basketball net.
He hooped all summer, sweating on outdoor court
before moving to school gym through fall and winter
knowing he was good but must work to be better.
Moving up to High School, things getting better
Varsity as a freshman, thing’s going as planned
four years of hard practice through each fall and winter
at High School graduation, all he got was love.
Conference player of the year, full press court
college at Becknell’s - next year nothing but net.
Summer’s prep but his three pointer nowhere near net
a shoulder injury redshirts him; takes months to get better.
But a career year as a senior, he was king of the court
two years in March Madness, all going as planned
with college graduation, a brief cheerleader love
hope springs eternal with passing of winter.
Transfer to Kentucky and Wildcats, but with winter
a broken wrist and covid darken his net.
March Madness was cancelled, pandemic's tough love
yet nothing that going pro couldn’t make better.
But draft passed without call, nothing going as planned
it’s tough to stay centred on basketball’s court.
An anxious summer, tryouts on NBA courts
but covid loomed large, sport locked down in winter.
Would this end those hoop dreams he'd planned?
Then Christmas came early; a ten-day contract with the Nets
led to a place in the G League where he could get better
such is the trial of basketball love.
Then Nate moved to Europe following basketball love
but Ukraine and Russia offers covid cancelled with nyet.
A contract with Israeli Basketball’s Premier League was better
and he starred with Hapoel Holon, League champion that winter
on this stage, he was again king of the court
even though things didn’t always go as planned.
So ends this tale of basketball love, but with end of winter
will Nate be more than a jester caught in basketball’s net?
Sometimes things work out, but not always as planned
_____________________________________________
link to Nate's wiki entry
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nate_Sestina
Categories:
tryouts, basketball, dream, life,
Form:
Sestina
Tryouts starring musical prodigies
and/or an attendant conductor
attempt to approach ambient chorus
divinely exhibited from Gaia's handiwork
heavenly invoking kapellmeister's magnificent nonchalant outlook
piquantly, quintessentially, repertoire sensately striking
unmatched vast wisdom yielding, zephyr air albeit creativity
engineered from groundswell harmony
juxtaposed, kindled, linkedin,
manifesting noteworthy opulent philharmonic recording
transcribing universal veritable webbed wide world.
Wunderkinds yield Ziggurat acme approximated asymptote
bequeathing celestial Doppelganger Earthly emulations
formulating fractal glinting highlighting
ineffable joie de vivre jostling, keen kindling,
la la land legerdemain lifting logic
lording Ludwig (Josef Johann) Wittgenstein.
?
Yelping zoological apostle Al affidavit Gore handily
heaping hubristically invocation jolting kickstart measures
nipping nixed noblesse oblige opera
quickening quotidian rapid ruination sans supreme
teetering upended venerated wise with acumen
arithmetical Benoit Mandelbrot
chasing far-fetched ideas
lightyears menacing nihilism purging ogres opportunistically
resplendently ripping revered tankard tipping unstoppably
vanquishing varietal whipsawing wonderful wrapt yawning youngsters
warfare written wrought yanking zestfully crushing environmental family
granting Herculean instant karma
malevolent, opprobrious pronouncement
quiet riot silencing severely tragic ubiquitous vicious wreckage
yikyaks apemen cleft Earth.
*************************************************
Future foragers denounce capitalistic bamboozlers aggression
zealots wrought trashing quintessential naked kingdoms issue
flotsam coagulates zonal wastelands torquing quality NON
killing habitats Earth bleached yellowed voodoo ruins.
Categories:
tryouts, age, allegory, angst, confusion,
Form:
Took my newspaper down to the cemetery last week,
Set up my soapbox and I commenced to speak.
I read to them of bombing overseas,
An article about the discovery of a new disease.
I read of a robbery on a downtown street,
And a tale of the homeless with so little to eat.
Told the folks about the wall street dive,
And how the local sports team is finally coming alive.
Of five new babies born just yesterday.
Then I read a notice for tryouts for the high school play.
That there's a big sale on jeans at the mall,
And the fact that three local teens had answered their country's call.
Do you know how they responded there?
SILENCE' It seemed that no one cared'
Some of the entombed had died in the war;
A few mangled wreck of a speeding car.
Pestilence had claimed the life of several others,
And abortion had separated babies from mothers.
The grandiose markers show who had enjoyed prosperity,
While other inscriptions speak of integrity.
Many simply grew old and had passed away,
But, once in the grave, none had any more to say.
Be they saint or be they sinner,
Not one could arise and go home for dinner.
The events of my world-oh, so wearisome to me,
Have no effect on a dead man evidently.
So what good is worry? What profit in fear?
I am crucified with Christ and He draws me near.
In Him I experience Heaven's greatest delights,
For I'm a dead man walking by faith, not by sight'
Arthur Ball (H.S.L.P.)
March 6, 2006
Categories:
tryouts, faith, high school, integrity,
Form:
Rhyme
Like an eagle you’ve watched me grow,
Forested me with love since I knew how to crawl,
How can I forget the wings that protected me from cold?
Cuddling down my mortal sole,
Warming words of wisdom,
Penetrating my tiny being,
Eyes of a dove that made me strong,
To tackle the poison of this world given to taste,
I stretched by eyes to find you whenever am lost,
My mouth up roaring your name in all tryouts,
Stimulated by the sugary beam that never desert your cheeks,
A bliss the earth can never secrete,
Mommy you spotted my ill attitudes signs in me,
And fashioned my self esteem to appease,
Never to be a victim of this world of pain,
A pearl banked in my heart never to be stolen,
Mother, to you my heart belong
You’re my sole in this life,
Your slogans fill my heart with hope,
Am a blessed branch from your tree,
Without you life will never set me free,
In every breath I’ll pay a huge fee,
It’s like a shoe without a sole,
Or a house without a roof.
ELIZABETH LEPAPA
INSPIRED BY 'Mother' Sponsored bY ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Categories:
tryouts, love, mother, me, world,
Form:
Rhyme
From dusk to dawn
Sunrise to sundown
This I will never forget
Your kisses that always left me in a comfort
And a bliss that no grief could ever secrete
A mile-wide-smile and sweet
That never deserted your cheeks
Your submissiveness
When my stomach would rumble
How you would enable my aptitudes
And change my ill attitudes
And fashion my self-esteem
Not to be the next awaited victim
Under any state of affairs
You reduced yourself down to zero
But to me you were still a hero
Jointly we went outdoors and out
And more often than not
We would go up the hills
And lean idly upon the walls
You were my physician
Upon all signs of hypochondria
You were a mother superior
You did the whole in a real thrill
You were to me mother-of-pearl
People said, "too much sweet cloys"
But your love to me grew bold in all ways
Now and then I never thought
Life could bring in me a heart-strife
And put a blot of blood on my ecstasy
I recall one day I stood neighboring you
With my two hands akimbo
It was the nightfall of the 16th July
My tongue had stranded on its pivots
My mouth was kept mum
So were my tryouts
To keep you from shutting those eyes
I asked myself so many whys
I stretched my eyes to see if it was a lie
Only to hurt them and find I couldn't deny
That I was left a flag without a pole
And like a shoe without a sole
Or like a worker denied a dole
In my heart there was now a hole
Life turned a wound that hurt
I got myself caught up in a mesh
Like a fishbone stuck in my throat
I never thought
Life could be so dicey
I was blind at the outset now I see
This life will never set me free
In every breath I'll pay a huge fee
For my blameworthy breakthroughs
Still death split people into twos
The worldly and the heavenly
The lonely and the heavenly
Mothers gone, children left odd socks
Little strokes fell great oaks
In my life time and hereafter
As long as eyes can see, mouths can utter
From side to another, below to above
There has never been a heartfelt love
Like yours to me
Or whose love that can be?
Categories:
tryouts, cry, death, loss, lost
Form:
Rhyme
Angels.
How many they asked
Could dance on the head of a pin?
I’m thinking
Why are they dancing
Don’t they have wings?
Rocks
Could God make one
So big He couldn’t lift it?
I’m thinking
Have you seen my book bag?
Martyrs
Nuff said.
I’m thinking
No one’s showing up for the tryouts.
Fasting
Look, I’m a kid
I’m thinking
It’s a cookie
Game over.
Math
She asked
How much is one plus one
I’m thinking
You mean you don’t know?
She called my name
Asked what I was thinking
I’m thinking
PBJ, six Oreos, chocolate milk.
John G. Lawless
©3/17/2023
Categories:
tryouts, childhood, school,
Form:
Free verse
Laziness ascribe my tryouts to stream;
I keep struggling to swim, through poverty.
Take me out of waiting on ghetto's dream!
Waiting on turns, enrage hope's light agleam...
Shinning possibly of luck's entirety:
Laziness ascribe my tryouts to stream.
Yet hustling nonstop makes me unrest beam,
That shoulders bills of daily liberty.
Take me out of waiting on ghetto's dream!
Promote me to classical lifestyle's scheme,
Which would simply interpret repartee:
Laziness ascribed my tryouts to stream.
I am dying for a rest: hoo-ha's scream...
Both day and night, to secure property.
Take me out of waiting on ghetto's dream!
And make G.R.A my abode as deem,
To rest troubles went through at puberty.
Laziness ascribe my tryouts to stream,
Take me out of waiting on ghetto's dream!
Categories:
tryouts, anxiety, art, childhood, freedom,
Form:
Villanelle
ginger tabby cat
volleyballing crinkle toy
for home team tryouts
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Categories:
tryouts, cat, fun, games,
Form:
Haiku