Sports Dramatic Monologue Poems | Examples

These Sports Dramatic Monologue poems are examples of Dramatic Monologue poems about Sports. These are the best examples of Dramatic Monologue Sports poems written by international poets.


Premium MemberBatter Up

If baseball were life and 
innings were seasons,
I'd sometimes play the Center-
a neutral spot with few extremes,
time enough for Short Stop dreams.
Don't care to be First-
it takes too much ego
Second is always forgotten.
Three is definitely, surely out
evading the Third degree.
Right is that nev--er/ne--ver land--
a place your brain goes to die.
Of all positions and spaces of Play,
I prefer to be out in Left Field.
There's no place Home.


       (Always keep the ball on your eye.)


Russell Ebert Oam

A hand pass out of the pack
Without needing to look back
Holding the premiership cup up high
A banner proclaiming God to run by

Four Margery Medals around his neck
If he was playing a sure fire bet
Six best and fairest for Port Adelaide 
A club that bred success that couldn’t fade

Russell Ebert was a legend of South Australian sport
Who shared himself with us without a thought
For he is one for the ages now
A beloved player who knew how.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Wooden Spoons In Garden Grow

The sweat was wiped off the brow
The spoon was stirred as they knew how
For 18 times they tried to win
A story state to be in

And KG woke to find a haul
Of wooden spoons counted one and all
How to curb such an embarrassment 
Even when The Advertiser had it sent

So they dili and dali about
Or how do I let the hurt and shame out
A summer now so quietly spent
Looking as bad as Tex’s ear is bent.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Deano

Batting for Australia was his  call
Deano struck it hard having a ball
I remember him in the Indian heat
His 210 in the tied Test was a super feat

And when Border was our  Captain Courageous
He played 52 Tests and made 3631 runs so outrageous
He knocked eleven centuries in the baggy green
Having as an average of 46.55 runs a batsman’s dream

But now his final Test has come
Passing in his 59th  year as the end of his run
And so becomes one for the ages on his final day
Growing his Legend as a final say.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Am I the Only One

Am I the only One who sees the need elsewhere,
Who objects to TV's in the takeaway shop here,
The hospital waiting room over there,
And one in the adjoining corridor, just to be sure.
Huge ones at too many sports venues in case we missed the four.

They don't tell the patients that cost of putting them there,
Could pay for a Nurse for a year,
Or the reason your takeaways take so long to appear.
Is that TV is more important than adequate kitchen gear,
The large ones prohibit free sports gear, 
And keeps families out of there.


You can put a TV in your car, 
And I see no need to care,
Or watch the one behind your bathroom door,
I still won't care,
But when my medicine is too dear, 
And the standard of care,
Is beyond unfair,
Even though I pay my taxes every year
Then I take umbrage here,
And hope an ulcer will not appear.


Premium MemberIf Ever I Had a Country : Xiii and Xiv

IF ever I had a country : XIII - XIV

                    XIII

IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Sports Secretary
I'd remind every sportsman performing for money
That the buying and selling of humans born free
Died with slavery in the Nineteenth Century
And put behind bars all club committees found guilty
That is, if ever I were the Sports Secretary
And even if I never ever had no country 


                   XIV

If ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Sports Secretary
I'd fine any sportsman his salary for hood-winking the referee
After every judo throw and karate jab above or below the knee
Just when the ball's dribbled to the goal --- for a penalty
Even if the VAR-referee is blind to what we see on TV
That is, if ever I were the Sports Secretary
And this, even if I never ever had no country

© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 3, 2018
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberWhose the Haters

WHOSE THE HATERS

Where have all those haters gone
Those ones on social media
Where have all the haters gone
Those who criticize my religion
Who are all those haters
Who hate me for the color of my skin
And where are those haters 
That did associate with me
And whose reality do I believe
Where are the haters
Who kills me with their words
Who shoves my heart, throws it on the floor
Who talks badly bout' the new school girl
Who makes fun of the small boy
Whose not so good in sports
Who is the girl whose bulimic
Your never chosen by the boys your to skinny
Who are all those haters, you laugh at my name
I've forgiven you once now your ashamed, whose the hater now?
                               
                                1/4/18

Premium MemberCopla Cuarenta Y Nueve This Bad Guy World

COPLA CUARENTA Y NUEVE: This Bad Guy World

Meantime we’ve got this Bad Guy World
Where the Bad Guys have it all their way:
Should Good Guys laze

If Good Guys stop toiling to mould
A better world in Tao Way:
World in a daze

The Grand Design calls for Spoil Sports
Those “society” thinks less of:
Who the hell cares

Bad Guys are made up of all sorts
President doctor or prof:
Scared guy Life snares

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberCopla Veintinueve This Bad Guy World

COPLA VEINTINUEVE : This Bad Guy World

The more Bad Guys countries co-raise
The more badly will they behave:
Simple logic

Human existence has no place
In its essence for country crave:
Die fanatic

At death no angels check passports
So don’t go waving flags to Hell:
There they will burn

Bad Guys love to play stacked-up sports
In order to look mighty swell
While insides churn

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberRondelet: Scoop of the World

Rondelet: Scoop of the World		

Scoop of the World
It’s not what rich Advertisers say
Scoop of the World
But yacht golf formula one gold
Where scoop-searching Journalists stray
There the Readers cannot say, “Nay!”
Scoop of the World

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

Peer Pressure

In  high school, he was ridiculed,
for his stance on alcohol,drugs and sex.
He was mocked of his bold decision,
He was pressured to try drugs,sex,
smoking and alcohol.
He was forced to do many things contrary,
to school regulations.
But he took precautions into consideration,
and being exceedingly tactful against pressure.
Having goals about what he wanted to do with his life,
and working towards achieving those goals.
His manner of life at school was to treasure himself first,
to respect his body, and not to harm himself__
He had one body which he treated with respect,
He did not waste his time on unnecessary things;
a short term solution to ruin his life.
He had alternatives from doing bad things
that will bring him down.
He was busy___still socialise,of course,in health ways:
such as sports,community ,and church projects.
Volunteer work provided him more incentives,
to gain personal enrichment from serving others.
Nobody prevailed to force him to do something,
he did not like to do,
He took a bold stand which was important,
and earned him respect.

chipepo lwele

The Runner

Amidst the fog I toil while the world beyond still sleeps
Except to the eyes of the occasional streetlight
I feel invariably invisible--
I am no longer human.
Running
A creature chasing for the sake of necessity
Seeking to satiate the hunger every being’s belly was born with
But few will ever will themselves to satisfy--
I am human again. 
Running
My heels moan with every blow of the unforgiving pavement 
Angrily echoing against the narrowing walls of sneering pines
Begging the Man in me to succumb
		My will flickers thin.
Void of breath to feed the fire
		My will flickers thin.
The teeth of winter gnashing through
		My will flickers thin.
Then for an instant-- a flint of consciousness rekindles
		My will flickers thin but still my will it flickers!
			Running
With grinding ribs and gritted teeth I dig beneath my anguish
Suddenly my instincts roar and war against my weakness
Like famished wolves to flesh I hasten
And vanish into night.
© Wade Souza  Create an image from this poem.

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