Long Ball Poems
Long Ball Poems. Below are the most popular long Ball by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ball poems by poem length and keyword.
Jamie plays the sport of boccia,
Where you throw your six balls,
Towards the jack with another,
And whoever is nearest, calls.
Jamie has Duchenne Muscular
Dystropy like his brother Scott,
Who’s older. They both blether,
So life’s easier in Jamie’s spot.
Scott made it to London’s lever,
To the 2012 Paralympic games,
When he threw the ball, leather:
Boccia gives your fitness aims.
There’s two methods of Boccia,
One by throwing all your balls,
One by a ramp, that’s the other,
When another places your balls.
Jamie’s assistant is mum, carer,
And all the family feel much joy,
At having this top time together,
‘Cos dad was a footballing boy.
About Rio 2016 he did deliver,
This claim about sports games:
“The thing I want to remember,
is that I don’t think that, [flames],
it’s good to go in and [consider,
that] you know what to expect.
But when you step out [further],
onto the court [you’ll connect],
nothing’s changed…[ever],
it’s the same game once
you’re [on court], out there.”
It’s a very mature responce.
He also says on Rio’s chair:
“The way we have played
recently we know [our flare,
and] we can achieve [glade]
what we want, [that’s our care],
that’s the most important thing.
I think that if you have [blare]
confidence [then you] can win."
The family come from Ayrshire,
From the village of Dundonald,
So Scotland has a bright flare,
In Rio’s boccia squad called.
Ever had chase fest for a runaway balloon,
that's going places, underused, under benches,
high fiving branches,
becoming a star to the onlooking masses?
Convenient how it knows,
that we have each other for a hug,
of gratitude undercover-glued tight against the squall
like a tether, having a ball with you.
Can you feel the love? Convenient how it knows,
when your teeth needs a bug
when you're convertable-ing it to the mall in a VW.
A curious thing indeed, the wind,
as it rifles through your papers,
thorough and true and takes a how do you do,
peruse, at how you, "how you do in" ,
on your way home from school.
It may breeze through a good book
like a critic looking for something cool to lick.
Acting as a reactor, it is definitely a factor,
it could be a mysterious force's comedy actor,
a punchline to a joke,
that sometimes seems right on cue.
Giving your ribs a good poking too.
It makes me laugh, for example,
to hear my kite buddy cheer,
for height and for sheer, and then he gets it,
gets it right up there, almost free and clear.
Just when the kite begins to go
where eagles only dare, it plummets below,
it veers, right, after squirrels, cones and needles,
skulls and crossbones, party favors, after freefall
it gets stuck in a tree,
belonging to that of our neighbors?
What if I happened to win the lottery
What would I do with the money
Spend it on all kinds of frivolous things
Or a year long trip with my honey
Eat in restaurants three times a day
Choose the richest item on the menu
Act like a real old mucky muck
And obnoxious no matter the venue
They'd surely know I was 'nouveau riche'
By my big mouth flamboyant air
But I wouldn't care with a bulging wallet
I'd do everything with panache and flair
What a pipe dream I'm currently having
As if this sweet old lovable jester
Could be anything but the belle of the ball
A vision of beauty in polyester
Odds are about fourteen million to one
So I won't be buying the beer
More chance of becoming a cultural icon
Like Mylie Cyrus or Britney Spears
For one enchanted night, I was Cinderella at the ball.
No fairy godmother did I have
to fashion for me a fancy gown
or to see me off that night in a golden carriage,
and yet I knew . . .
at last there had arrived all that I’d ever longed for.
The young man of my dreams appeared as if by magic
the week before I turned seventeen.
I was working in the lowly job of convenience store cashier
when I saw beyond me, his warm, chocolate eyes
flirting with me!
I sneaked peeks at him from my station at the cash register,
watching him as he was sneaking peeks at me!
There he stood near the frozen foods aisle -the handsome Canadian
who would soon reveal to me in conversation
a beautifully sexy French accent.
As we chatted, I imagined myself a Cinderella
who had been missing her other glass slipper.
At last my prince had arrived!
What joy flooded my spirit when by the end of the week,
he placed that coveted glass slipper on my foot,
for I was the girl he chose among all the others he had met
in his brief stay in my city
to be with him before he went away.
The stuff of fairy tales does not compare
to what ensued when my tall, dark, handsome prince
asked me out on a date that last weekend of August.
Summer winked goodbye right before my September birthday,
and in the most indelible sweet summer ending
of all my youth,
I was Cinderella as my prince most charming asked,
“Will you be mine?”
Jan. 8, 2022 for the Be Mine Poetry Contest of Regina McIntosh
March 16, 2022 for A Brian Strand 1090 Poetry Contest
The fact this pitcher was great nobody could deny.
He could take the baseball and throw it right on by.
His pitches usually blazed through the strike zone.
Frustrated hitters usually returned to the dugout with a groan.
Time marches on, and we can’t live during yesterday.
With age, skill and prowess just deteriorate away.
He soon learns he is not the same player today.
This pitcher discovers some difficulty in winning.
Opposing hitters knock in runs during an early inning.
The manager pops out of the dugout and takes the ball.
Time to bring in a reliever. For today, that will be all.
Here, on earth’s globe, I'm a human themed fade on a
ball, enveloped in sky's ceiling so endlessly dark woven
it hides infinite galaxies where no horizons offer locations
to position me.
Lacking many textbook facts about stars and planets,
little taints my imagination's vision of a limitless heaven.
Galaxy gazing allows me intoxicating sparks of
ignorance-rushes that dizzy my mind.
When I attempt to focus on the beyond laying beyond
the known beyond, rubber bands brain-snap my
inconceivability with slaps that strike me
overwhelmed before ....
leaving me pinned
where I
don't know the universe is.
Just some scribbles of thoughts - the mentally ill, the elderly, children, homeless pets, and even we can be - sometimes even in a crowd...
He was always dancing, no matter the time,
a smile and a bow to whoever walked by,
then a skip and a hop and a diddly bop -
a spin, a grin, then another bow.
I watched him once when no one was around;
he just looked at the ground and stared.
Whenever we drove by the lady down the lane;
she always had a polite wave if she noticed us passing.
One day on a walk, I stopped to talk -
she cheerfully beamed about her garden
and the beautiful day, but then she paused and said,
"Sorry, I must go and see my love...
who doesn't know me anymore...
but I still know him".
In the summer, a boy walked by every day,
tossing a ball into his glove
on the way to the park; shortly after
he would come back down the street,
his head a little lower.
I asked, "Aren't you gonna play?"
"They already got a game" was always his answer,
but one day he said, "Wanna play some catch?"
I knew right where my old glove was -
everyone needs a friend, even me.
Dave was a sad old coot, over in the corner,
barely glancing as I walked through the shelter.
I couldn't leave without him,
so Dave came home with me that day.
My friends thought Dave was a strange name for a dog
but after four years they thought Dave
was a better name for a dog than a person -
they all went with me when we said goodbye.
When everyone went home that night
the house was very empty...
A deep dark void..
Floating through nothingness..
A bottomless pit of emptiness..
Bouncing like a ball ..
In a blank hollow state..
Lifeless and meaningless..
No purpose
In a state of lack..
Without the senses..
Vision and auditory sounds
Along scent and smell
Followed by..
Touch..
A lifeless avatar..
Pulled in the darkness of the void..
A stagnant whirlwind..
A separation of an avatar and a program..
A dysfunctional avatar without a computer..
Avatar desperately needs computer..
Computer is the consciousness of the avatar..
The essence of the avatar..
One day ..
The deep dark void was full..
Filled with unconditional love..
Life became meaningful
Nothingness became everything..
All there is..
Everlasting and unlimited..
An divine avatar is now living a blissful life..
In a conscious virtual reality..
I grew up living in the countryside
an only child, adopted and on my own
it's something I've never regretted at all
looking back now like a river with one stone
I found I could cope with myself
having a stammer people was not my thing
so I found ways to spend my time
a lover of football it became my wedding ring
Across from our backyard was a field
'The Honie' was its name, there I did play
on my own, a football and me my all
many an hour spent no matter wet or grey
The grass never got cut but I kept it down
with my ball, me and team imagination
doing everything a team does as one
win and lose but never got relegation
I did love 'My Homie'
a place to spend many an hour
so many memories to call upon
drawing them from above like a shower
(This is written about my favourite place in my childhood and the memories it has for me.
Football - means soccer as we play it in the UK.)
~~ooOO If I Were A Boy OOoo~~
If I were a boy, how cool that would be!
I’d always have a friend ready to play with me
Through boyhood to manhood I know he’d be there
We’d play together always, happy to share.
The cowboys won’t worry if the Indians attack
I’d get out my weapon and fight them all back.
The monsters would disappear from under the bed
With my weapon in my hand, I’d strike them all dead.
Girls they say are faster learning at school
But with my weapon in my hand I’d show them I’m cool.
Writing when I want; my letters nice and slow
I’d even write my name into the white virgin snow.
The life of a boy is all balls it seems,
From baseball to football and cricket.
With my weapon in my hand I’d knock every ball in
Through the hoop, in the net and hit the wicket.
As a man my friend would still be with me
More controlled put away, and not accidentally.
As a member now of the opposite gender,
I’d be gifted with the power of childishness to remember.
Where as girls grow soppy and want a boy to love them
Boy’s grow strong, and want to go out with men.
To swill pints of ale and make themselves sick
But they count every pint as though some great trick.
If I were a boy I’d take my pride in my hand
I’d hit the highest point on the wall when I stand.
I’d have the biggest, most powerful one ever
My throw would be talked about and forgotten never.
If I were a man I’d have huge shoulders, strong I would be.
If I were a man I’d be the man that loves me.
If I were an Olympian I‘d be the pride of the nation
As you know well, every boy is gifted with
A huge imagination.