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.
Camera zoom...Boom - Boom shakes the room
All eyes on the prize
Rise & lies of franchise
Moolah the crueler ruler
Sparking doom and gloom
Marking Test cricket’s demise
If there is a golden ticket
Doing his bit to save it
King of swing..ping and kerching
Another out of orbit gambit
Harder to decipher than sanskrit
Sure fire hit…well it has to be Jasprit
Vortex vex…whippier…that flex…nippier
That stammer…batter’s cortex hex
Voodoo..hoodoo..hullabaloo juju
No real defects..trippier zippier
Sledge hammer..T Rex
Bumrah unravels…travels in a perverse
Parallel universe..almost tectonic
Every component…supersonic
Reverse exponent..demonic
Bucolic rollick & frolic
Bionic hypertonic
In cricket's lexicon
The bowling Don
Definition of iconic
Out of the box…runs amok..
Forever will outfox…bubonic
Deadly as smallpox
Cricket’s salvation & emancipation… tik tok sensation
No mystery how he’s making history
His gall…feats with the ball
Puts the most bums on seats
Gets them in a spin…hear
The din….gleaming…beaming grin
Watch him spar…gory glory
Top fella & stellar superstar
The death kneller...genie in the jar
Fortune & story teller…nobody on a par
Best seller…so fans near and far
Come on let’s give a massive hurrah
To the one and only…Jasprit Bumrah!
..
Princess Bride
Your faiytale has come true
Look how the stars shine for you
Eminating back from a single glass slipper
Are you the fairest of them all ?
Adorned in a white wedding train
Clambering along royal track's
With Veil laced black
Hold up behind the Castle wall's
Is the faiytale of going to the ball
All your dream's foretold ?
Is Prince Charming ?
Charming or alarming ?
Have you found happiness in the marital bed ?
Or is the dream dead ?
Doth love bridge the divide ?
Can love survive ?
Where is 1 to hide ?
When great expectations of human relations
Do not make the editor's final cut
Eyes wide shut
The but of rising above 1 station
Fell victim to the fantasy created
She lies
She dies
She cries
The tear's of 20 /20 vision
The heart harps back
To lesser majesty
Back to hope
Before the tragedy
I saw a funny man
Who wore funny clothes
Had a hole in his jacket
And three holes in his nose.
What a funny nose ring
From it hung a feather
I hope it kept him warm
In the frosty weather.
I saw a funny women
A cow she tried to throttle
Coz she blamed the cow
That milk came out in bottles.
I saw a funny granma
Couldn't see the lake
She tried to shake hands
With the toilet snake.
She left the window open
Like a carefree granny
The wind blew up her clothes
In every nook and cranny.
I saw a funny grandpa
Couldn't hear a thing
Sounded like a moose
When he tried to sing.
He tended to his plants
In the middle of his garden
A truck then blew it's horn
He said "I beg your pardon".
It shows that he could hear
Not deaf after all
Just didn't want to answer
When his name you call.
I saw a funny teenager
Walked backwards in his sleep
Then he walked sideways
When he counted sheep.
So lets just keep on smiling
You need it for survival
A keen sense of humour
Puts hair on your eye ball.
Between sweat dripping on sunsets lips
Young girl licks her cherry smile
Horizon splits open with her roller blades
Takes to the highway flying by
Jets away with speeds increasing by the mile
Solid body firm and sweet
Hills are happy to be massaged
Then something weird still not conceived
Soon happens as she lifts ball bearing needs
Cuts through heavy grasses in pastures green
Forests come on faster than a bullet
Fall behind her at the speed of light
Roller girl is hungry for the race
Leaves the planet with such grace
Arms lifted to the planets
Breasts open wide to the embrace in outer space
Where racing is a challenge
You can guess there is no stopping her
On the atmosphere she spins awhile
Traveling past Mars before she takes a breath
Music playing in her head set, batteries in place
Merging with the tune of cosmos turbulence
She's dancing along the rings of Saturn now
When she returns for sleeping soft as snow
Not knowing how rolling begins and ends
Wheels still spin remembering
Mick never had the height but he could jump. He was swift, fast, and he could truly dunk. He was muscular and strong, trim and slim; shocking everyone trying to guard him.
Just one season, and it felt like a dream. That year, Mick played on a basketball team. It's the 'total game feel' that he loves most. But some players like it best high above.
High above the rim, ten plus feet, that is. That is where Mick felt the basketball thrill. Those high-flying dunks with authority. Shot blocking with timing ability.
071421PS, Pantoum Rhyme 1 Poetry, Eve Roper Theme picture #1. 10 syllable lines; Syllable Counter.com
If it aint broke don’t fix it,
A well known old saw
Which these modern days
They just seem to ignore.
Does the Designer ever use
The things they design
Or is it just a case of disrupting
So many lives like mine?
That new housing developed
At such a huge public cost
With a daft way of street numbering
Even the Postman gets lost.
The streets are so mixed up
There’s no idea where you are,
With communal parking lots so
Its very easy to lose a car.
The rooms are so small
You can’t swing a cat.
The Designer won an award
For designing stuff like that.
It’s full of young families
And young gangs hold sway
For they didn’t provide areas
For the children to play
.
There are greened areas
Making me wince as I pass
At the many signs saying
No Ball Games On The Grass.
Perhaps, just a thought,
They’d take a little more care
If, fora year at least,
They had to live there.
But the one i really want to meet
In a back alley there on their own
The one who devised the Automated
Machine that answers the telephone.
The music is appaling but
What i really despsie and hate
Being told my call is important
As i waint and wait and wait.
Why cant they beggar off
And just leave things alone
If they want to disrupt lives
Let it be just their own.
Perhaps there’ll come a day,
As their transgressions mount,
That people will protest
And bring them to account.,
The lighthouse stands atop the hill,
A warning for the sailors,
That here be shallow waters,
Reefs and widow makers.
She stands there in all weather,
To shine her beacon bright.
Through wind and rain and dark of night,
She's there to shine her light.
Some say the lighthouse came to be,
Because of an old story,
About a sailor coming home,
Braving some storm's fury.
His ship went down somewhere 'round here.
The sailor lost his life,
And now whenever there's a storm,
You'll see the sailor's wife,
Standing high atop the hill,
A lantern in her hand,
And if you look along the shore,
Sometimes you'll see a man.
He comes out of the water,
To climb the wind swept hill,
Where she stands with lantern light,
Waiting for him still.
Judy Ball
Pulling birds from pristine boughs
gleaning songs, blue- broken clouds.
Dreams tossed to deep indigo pools
slung into reefs of jagged clowns.
Semi-sorry for your burning hurt
I've sated flames then put them out.
In thorny rags -you're bled pure
of milky desires, we're devil's curd.
You taste it all void of screen
a cord of bitter sips of sweet.
I gather rainbows then bleach them out
(heart grapes beneath burning feet).
A ball of fire on gasoline roads
you open your heart then explode.
Love, amidst charred painted rose
gossamer bird palmed and crushed.
Faith chin deep, an indigo blush.
2018 - nothing new here
He sits
slumped in his corner
weary, battered, bruised,
but not beaten.
He has survived,
studied this craft,
this art of living,
these cycles of change.
He has tasted the acrid,
bitter sting of defeat,
soft warmth
of victory’s vanity,
both fleeting plateaus.
He sees
through puffy eyes
another adversary
youthful, inexperienced,
unblemished by struggle.
He taps gloves,
nods to this new opponent,
knows that the object
is not to defeat him,
but to teach him,
that victory is a feeble friend,
defeat a melancholy mistress.
The bell will ring,
the ball will fall
the crowd will roar
the dance begin anew.
John G. Lawless
©12/29/2017
Start
The great tennis legend Roger!
Watching his game is a pleasure
The first service is a bullet
That hits the court like a mallet
The adversary is confused
Just misses getting bruised!
Challenges the absence of line call
Replay shows the trajectory of the ball
Referee’s verdict, ‘ball is in’
He grumbles and calls it a sin
To use the racquet as a gun
Denying the opportunity to run
His returns are the best in the sport
Ball is directed to the corners of the court
His drop shots are precisely done
Ball just crosses the net heavily spun
If the opponent manages to return it still
He’s crouching at the net ready to kill
There are times when it’s not his day
All his game plans go astray
He struggles to turn the game his way
That is when pretty Mirka starts to pray
Seated in her box she closes her eyes
Appeals to God with her silent cries
Lo behold! The game turns around
Everyone in the court is astound
The final score board says it all
Liebling Roger no longer with his back to the wall
He acknowledges cheers for his guile
With a clenched fist and triumphant smile.
End