Long Soccer ball Poems
Long Soccer ball Poems. Below are the most popular long Soccer ball by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Soccer ball poems by poem length and keyword.
I cannot read small labels, my eyes don’t see so well
The labels on my spices: a culinary hell.
I came up with a system; it’s pretty hard to beat,
‘Cuz most of what I cooked before was not so good to eat.
With pictures on the label, it’s easier to know;
‘Cuz peppermint and barbecue simply do not go.
Anise is a garbage can, I kick it to the curb
Basil, I called Rathbone, a swashbuckling herb
Bay leaves, Otis Redding, sitting on the Dock
My chives, the brothers Bee Gee, ‘cuz it’s the one that talks
Cayenne, picture of a large teepee, ‘cuz man, it's real in tents
I cinnamon Jamaica way; I haven’t seen him since
Allspice, a real Transformer, it sure does add a spark
Cocoa, murdered cuckoo bird, because that’s really dark
Cardamom’s a driver’s license, to check if she’s young or old
Chili is a heavy coat for days that it's too cold
Curry is a horse’s brush, for favorite Indian dish
Garlic, a nasty tongue, to taste an ugly fish
I haven’t any Ginger, ‘cuz Mary Ann’s the best
Lemon peel, a self portrait, to scrape with zeal and zest
Sage, a wizened wizard, ‘cuz they give fatherly advice
Hibiscus, pics of flowers, because it smells really nice
Mustard, a colonel, in the library, with a pipe of lead
Pepper, a peck, what Peter picked (or so they said)
Nutmeg is a soccer ball that’s passed between the legs
Paprika, scary Lucifer, atop my deviled eggs
Parsley just has Elvis, for when you need a shake
Pumpkin Spice, a perfect pie, the kind you want to bake
Thyme, can’t keep too much on hand, the liner notes from Styx
Cajun rub, a pair of legs; it’s got a healthy kick
Tarragon, a house on fire, the smell when Scarlett’s mansion burned
Caraway, Mav from Top Gun; okay, it's breath, I'm unconcerned.
Tartar, from the Enterprise, Kirk wearing Scottish kilt
Pepper flakes, Quixote's windmill; you'll need the fan 'cuz it's full tilt.
Yeah, some of these are pretty bad, but cooking is more fun.
My family sure is happier; they love a tasty pun!
First Placing : Poetry Marathon 2025
Sponsor: Mark Toney
{ FREEDOM “We may want to linger, to stay, to arrest the flow and talk about it, photograph it, lyricize it. Yet this beauty is mercurial and we must let it go, for it is already slipping away to be replaced by the new.” -Stuart Sovatsky }
YELLOW FIELD OF WHEAT
Angel of Death skims blacker than tar
a skeletal knock overturning bowl of oats
smelling of frankincense and ashes
to carry you to a yellow field of wheat
where you will dance radiant waltzes
haloed free
your laughter pranced across blue walls with
Michael Jackson, Spider-Man, cheeky elves
relishing Kentucky Fried Chicken as you
played scrabble with forlorn neighbour
bony body birthing revolutions of
roulette with green life and grey death
how you endured those precision needles
wanting to drum tapered fingers on
waiting desk overflowing with car sketches
your thirteen year old bald head smiling
veins on an enchanting spring moon as our
hidden tears crystallised hospital sheets
we tried to keep up with you scoffing
encyclopaedias, Dickens and muffins alike
cancer like a chess game mastered chemo
doctors and nurses becoming kings or pawns
time was now or endless pathos stalking minds
Laurel and Hardy keeping hearts unlocked
on Merlin’s star-patterned couch you will
jokingly converse with Pele and his team
soccer ball silent under quiescent table
my ink cannot pen sad lines as I feel
your lips still sucking dripping nipple
freedom moonwalks on a
yellow field of wheat
"Black and white in want of each other, and not in need, inevitably;
of my following sampling's POV," ... by the Poet.
Pandas are loners, though my statement is a misconception of the simple fact of reproduction and raising. Two credible factors bear on Pandas in the wild, but once they've matured on both points, they part company to be alone.
Between Ludwig van Beethoven and Danny Kaye, tickling those Ivories is a statement for only Kaye since Ivory wasn't a commodity to Pianos over a century old. Striking those 88s does apply, most admirably, for both Piano players.
Dalmatians, a hallmark of fire stations, though by law no animals are allowed, except registered seeing-eye dogs or rescue squads are at the station with qualified animals, or when FEMAs there and their entitled animals.
Possible fun things to see: an Orca reading a Newspaper held up on an aquarium glass; a Penguin nudge a Domino toppling more; a Skunk riding a Zebra-back; in The UK, a Scots girl holding a Soccer Ball under her arm wearing a Pirate's eye patch Skull and Crossbones gazes with her other eye at the inviting Night Sky Stars and Moon while eating an Oreo Cookie, now looks both ways before walking on the Pedestrian Crossing a street as men play Dice on a sidewalk outside a pub in dark Manchester.
*B&Ws in capital letters
O'er the undulating prairie where grows soy beans and corn,
Generations of premier basketball players have been born.
The Hoosier State of Indiana, where budding talent is so replete,
Where small towns can conquer titans, shocking them in defeat!
Long before lads and lassies leave the cradle to crawl upon the floor,
Dads have hung a backboard and hoop above every garage door.
Seldom is seen a Hoosier home without this indigenous adornment!
The flame begins early in Indiana, stirring souls with excitement!
Ah! The exuberance builds as high schools begin a brand-new season.
Not to support the hometown team is almost akin to treason!
Creative cheerleaders perfect frenzied gyrations honing their skills.
The marching bands look sharp having perfected intricate drills!
Moms, Dads and coaches take pride in their young men and women,
As they mentor, teach and train them to develop their acumen.
Young warriors opposing each other upon friendly fields of strife,
Strengthen character to meet the challenges facing them in life!
A Canadian invented the game using peach baskets and a soccer ball.
You daren't mention that to a Hoosier fan - you're apt to start a brawl!
But Hoosiers don't bother themselves about that, caring not a whit.
Basketball is an inbred thing in Indiana, everyone is happy to admit!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Written at the request of the Indiana Basketball Hall of Fame, New Castle, Indiana,
for publication in their Winter 2004 publication, "Indiana Basketball History Magazine"
Once upon a time, there was a boy called Tyler playing with his soccer ball. He was a ten years old boy with black hair and green eyes. Every afternoon, Tyler played with his friends, imaging they were famous soccer ball players playing in a stadium. Near Tyler's house was a river with rapid streams. Tyler's mom, Debra, advised him and his friends to do not play near the river.
One day, as a challenge, a friend of Tyler told him to play near the river. Tyler disobeyed his mom warning, and went to play near the river. Tyler slided and fell
in the river. He had a dog called Lolita, who started barking. Debra heard the
barkings coming from the river area. Tyler was grabbed to a rock. Debra rescued him from the river. Tyler promised to his mother to never play again near the river.
Ten years has passed. Tyler is now twenty years old. His dream came true. He was a succesful soccer player known worlwide. Five years later, he met a young lady called Heather. After one year of dating, they married. Two years later, when Tyler was twenty years old, Heather had a baby boy called Spencer. Fiveteen years later, when Spencer was fiveteen years old and Tyler, fourty three years old, Spencer was a famous soccer player as his father.
The End
4-23-2016
The first time we met
Was the day I knew you were the one to get
My first Jack Russell Parson Terrier
Was coming home without a carrier So small and plump
Holding you firmly so you couldn’t jump
Feisty and full of energy
I knew then you would bring us wonderful memories
Our walks together
I will always treasure
Your strong presence
Showed your wittiness for independence
How you never wavered
Your might and will both tailored
Giving me your paw
Showing me you’re smarter than before
Hearing your mighty bark
Would of called the entire animal kingdom to the ark
Playing with your soccer ball
Displaying the skills of a professional on team Nepal
With all your might in your heart
Helping us to understand the importance
of a restart
Your determination
Your life
Will always remain the greatest gift
that forever shines on
so bright
~October 08, 2008 - June 15, 2024~
The Innocence Of Youth
By: Tom Wright
Oct. 1998
Two youthful girls
passing a soccer ball.
At "Honor Heights" to play,
this day of fall.
A smile, a nod,
nothing more than this to say.
Seeming not to care,
that this day's hour
drew late.
Was their objective soccer?
Or attention,
they were to generate.
During their routine,
It was to me
as if putting on a show,
for those nearby
to see.
But I can't know.
One girl, but short time hence,
surely noticing,
daylight was laid waste.
So with more sense
and little ado,
left in haste.
Girl number two
sometime later,
performing still.
Started to move
with ball afoot,
beyond sight, up the hill.
While driving out
after dinners fill.
Reflecting in our headlights,
the shoes of girl number two
with ball afoot, in flight,
back down the hill.
Having no concern for safety,
lest here alone
she would not be.
With possible harm lurking
beyond each fence of stone,
behind each tree.
Our thoughts,
dominated by questions like,
were parents aware?
Perhaps a broken home,
a " Latch Key Kid " with working Mom,
to busy to care.
On winding roads,
we left the Park,
this Autumn day.
Leaving girl number two,
alone, at dark,
and in harm's way.
Grimlocke was given a soccer ball as a gift,
Though he didn't know what to do with it.
He is an Oracle so crystal would have been prefered,
But the stitched pentagons are like pentagrams of which he did observe.
So Grim took the soccer ball and placed it on a rotating stand,
And then opened up his doors to allow querents to come in.
With dim lights, incense and some soothing music,
He began his foretelling, open to the public.
Now he tried his very, very best,
But grass, dirt and leather seemed to daunt his quest.
And before long, people would begin to troll,
As all his readings were simply ending with the exclamation, "Goal!"
13-September-2021
The soccer ball rolls through school days
By Phan Tan Hai
The ball rolls across the schoolyard grass,
mesmerizing the boy who chases it—
kicking until the afternoon snags on the hanging moon,
kicking until the morning sun climbs up to watch;
even Pelé comes to gaze from the veranda,
shouting in a jubilant, midnight dream.
The ball bounds wildly in every direction;
clutching it, he roams the streets to challenge others—
any open space becomes a pitch,
kicking until summer sun and spring rain fade away;
even Messi would be astounded
to see a childhood kick soar high in the dead of night.
The ball travels through school days,
rolling past hills, mountains, rivers, lakes, and distant seas;
with a single strike, a rain of blossoms falls—
an offering to the boundless realm of form and void.
Waking at midnight to gaze across the ten directions,
he sees a thousand clouds drifting past the sun’s rosy glow.
They say age is just a number,
but its much more than that.
Now everything I eat or drink
just somehow turns to fat.
I used to kick a soccer ball
all over sunny fields of green
but now I throw my knee out
just pulling on my jeans .
My auburn hair that hung in waves,
long and full of sheen,
is now short and white, stands on end,
and makes me look quite mean .
Old age isn't for the faint of heart.
You need to be tough as a boot
and forget about those days gone by
when you were young and cute.
You need to develop a thick skin.
(Though in truth its thinner than ever)
Words no longer phase you
and your retorts have become quite clever.
Yes, growing old is really the pits.
Like living under a curse.
But on the flipside of getting older,
the alternative is worse.