Jerseys Poems | Examples

Loki

Smoke.
Works every time.
Want a challenge?
Mirrors.
Illustrator of illusions.

Light is the corruption, political parties -
Light is the greed, the wars, the nukes.

How can you not see it?
BLINDNESS....
Too much sun.

Pitch black.
So who is darker than who_?
Feed the beast.
The devil switched jerseys.

Pass you the ball but, break your nose.

Renewal

the worn-out jerseys
    those mud-smeared pants
  visions of brightest glory 
    ~ heaps of bleakest misery

  yet hope springs eternal
    in the human breast
  next season begins anew 
    the coveted championship quest

Bye Farewell and Adieu

Mummy heading for market “Bye”
For her child shall super snacks buy
One or two big surprises try; 
If she does it not child’s pained cry…

‘Bye’ for someone flying away
You would soonest catch on your way:
On a trip that could need airport
But in the end gloriously short…

Goodbye to folks you love or like:
Something about them does you strike,
Your goodbye their journey mercies
Covering them like football Jerseys…

Farewell the more touching goodbye
That comes with a dose of sore sigh:
Indeed, the bye of a parting
For which there might not be chatting;
No other meeting with Martin
You’d hated and loved while farting…

Then, comes Big Tears-Dragging Adieu
Said and it’s like paying a due,
Recipients you later met few;
As one says it more mountain Dew.

A Barefooted One

Maybe I will merge with you on a Friday sermon
In a time of congregation prayer
From upstairs, with all my questions of Khushoo' and khudoo' 
I would see people and people, their shirts, logos on those jerseys
There will be request in a softer voice to turn off all those cell phones.

I would see those windows, chandeliers , those bright lights
All those lavish carpets would bring lots of people
Maybe you will be one of them, a barefooted one.

I never knew when I grew up, in a real sense
I am still in my early years, when I recite verses with my efforts
With my ability , with my inability and with all my common senses
May be I am not up to the norm, you also remind me quite often
I see an agonizing pain with all my truest intention, there.

Note: Khushoo' - calmness in salah

'could'Ve Been

‘Could’ve Been

It could have been us
Celebrating 10th month’s anniversary;
Not that it’s a complaint,
But a reminder in a bragging tone.

It could have been us 
Laying on a 2m hostel single bed;
Fighting for one pillow,
In a cold night of July.

It could have been us
Playing basketball Sunday evening;
On a rough outdoor court,
With rules of our own.

It could have been us 
Exchanging jerseys on sun dawn;
Watching the sunset,
Talking dirty in love language.

It could have been us 
If not for your boldness;
That intimidates my manhood,
Pushing me into loving a stranger.

At Yankee Stadium

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.

The University of Michigan Wolverines

“GO BLUE!” I hear the crowd scream, 
the fans all get excited and blow off steam-
University of Michigan rocks college football, 
as the Wolverines prevail and Ohio State falls. 

Maize and Blue with Michael Jordan jumpman, 
jerseys to die for, everyone dressed in the stands-
A touchdown is scored and the crowd exclaims,
“HAIL TO THE VICTORS! Tom Brady in Hall of Fame.

I grew up in a family where you must marry a fan, 
so, I married my Nicholas, he loved me for who I am-
We have season tickets in a Big House suite-
to the Michigan Wolverines, you can’t even compete!



Sports Shorts
May 19, 2017

Glorified Madness

Pure Water colorless, coffee always loved hot
Gentle rub on the shoulder, yes on the elbow
A sound rolls from the inner
A hail for glorified madness
All life sliced with a bread knife
Only the jams and butter are called to duty.

Unbelievable in the shadows of celebrities
The stars of soccer produce the craziest goals
The dribble, kicks and the madness, over the post
Until the regulator calls it off
The flop of matches are presumed, but wrong most times
Is amazing how our balls beat a keeper
That is what brings the glorified madness
Vision, determination, action and fans are on their feet

Substitute your best for the less,
Your resignation letter sang by expectants
But how you coach yourself for life
Will keep your replica jerseys on higher demands
With a water-less cup, generations will sing to you a lullaby
While the joy you share, keep products in glad testimonies.

The Waiting Game

Silence
On green field lie,
Goalpost lonely, forlorn -
Yellow jerseys, darting figures,
Strike goal.

Super Bowl Xlvi

It’s been a great season with every run block pass and catch
Now its time for the best players to have their rematch
Eli looks for another ring while Brady wants four
The Pats look back to even the 2008 score
Grab you favorite snack and crack yourself a beer
Its game day for Super Bowl so get ready to cheer
Patriots or Giants who will eventually win
Who will be the world champions with the battle of the pigskin
Offense or defense what will win the debate
Will the G-mens  D seal the Pats fate
Will the Patriots offense score big we shall see
Which team will hold yet another Lombardi trophy
Coughlin or Bellichek whhat coach is the best
It should be exciting to watch this ultimate football test
So put on your jerseys and hats and make your picks
Enjoy yourself and may the best team win Superbowl forty six

Colors That Lift My Spirits

Colors That Lift My Spirits
Orange are the tiger lilies that grow in the fields where I play.
Yellow is the banana taffy that fills my mouth.
Brown are the tiny ants that invade my picnic.
Red is the lipstick on my lips.
Maroon are the jerseys on the men that I watch.
Blue is the sky they throw their football through.
Black is grill that my burgers cook on.
Silver is the aluminum can in my hand.
Grey are the days that I sing the blues.
White is my halo that hovers over my head.
Gone are the days that I wished I was dead.

Gods Angels Heavens Football Team

Hey Jesus Christ is our Quarterback,
He's MVP and never gets sacked,
Twelve Apostles are the rest of the team,
The Bible is their rule and Jesus is their steam.

They always win and never lose,
Cheering for souls for God to use,
With Father God as the Heavenly Coach,
The Holy Spirit now will approach.

God's Angels are the team to try,
Wearing their jerseys all will fly,
Across the goal line happily,
Scoring touchdowns for Eternity.

Some are not fans of this great sport,
Wait till you join this Heavenly Court,
And be a player on a winning streak,
God's Angels team is quite unique.
                          Teresa Skyles
Co-written Linda-Marie Bariana one of the best poets on soup. 
Entered in Chris D.Aechter"2nd.chance"contest

Juke Box Boys

Game boys
Mob the juke box
all baseball caps backwards;
singing to the loud rap music.
Lights a flashing, toes a tapping, smiling,
rosy red cheeks and fire red jerseys.
Juke box strobes, boy laughing
a trio of kids
sing too.

The Song of the Game.

The sound of Leather on hardwood
Classics, jerseys and sneakers on floor.
These instruments accompany the
Chorus of fans and haters
In unison they roar.

Deftly we move, we manouver
You can call it a dance 
With a wish
A common goal,
A spheroid of gold,
This bomb explodes with a swish!

This dance we've created 
Mastered, debated
We're pumped
We're inflated with pride
You've seen how we roll 
Got that gift of control
And as Ballaz we stroll 
This stride.

We divide and we conquer
We detect the undetected
The master strategy
We expect the unexpected

Deviously we play
No one tells us how we do
I'll have ya bodies movin'
By the time that I'm through

You may think this poem is tight
May think this poem is lame
But one thing you haven't listened to 
Is the song of the GAME.

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