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.
A farmer's son was once tending to his mother's hens,
Collecting their eggs to sell,
At his family's road-side market stand when,
He found a purple egg with a rotten smell.
The boy looked around at all the female foul,
Perhaps a mutant hen had delivered this egg,
Although it wasn't gold, perhaps the egg could wow,
Some wealthy hobbyist who would for the egg beg.
The peculiar egg was polk-a-dotted with greenish spots,
And reeked like a port-a-lu,
But for some reason that the boy knew not,
He decided to make it into a stew.
For the egg was massive, maybe one foot tall,
And in width the same as its height,
It looked like a putrid soccer ball,
Played with maybe by witches in the night.
So the boy grabbed from a cupboard a large pot,
And lit a flame beneath the oven's coils,
And poured in some water when he thought,
"Should this egg be poached or hard boiled?"
He decided instead to make an egg-drop soup,
With this heinous egg that was sitting in heated water,
For the boy was tired of farming and wanted this goop,
To prove that magic was real as it was in Harry Potter.
He stirred the rotten concoction with a branch,
Of hazel for added dramatic effect,
Added some salt and vinegar from inside the raised-ranch,
Where his family had been obliviosely kept.
The vinegar dissolved the flourescent shell,
Whose hues of purple and green had swirled,
Into a mauve-colored vomit solvent from hell,
And steamed an odor which made his hair curl.
Giggling to himself, he ignored the stench,
As he fancied himself a warlock,
And once it was done he pulled up a bench,
To sit as he added in some chicken stock.
After a few tireless minutes the boy decided it was done,
So he grabbed a bowl and a silver spoon,
Ladled some up and ate it with a cheeseburger bun,
Which he dipped into the disgusting soup.
The boy soon realized that the egg was not magic,
As his breath stopped and skin turned red,
For the goopy soup he had made led to the tragic,
End of this boy who dropped immediately dead.
Had he realized that magic was the power to make plants grow,
And the strength to care for your cows and chickens,
He certainly would have seen the egg and known,
That whatever ate it would surely be sickened.
(May 7th, 1945 Germany)
In a gothic Nazi bunker
Where Hitler's son is taken
He is strapped into a pod
Then placed in strange cannon
A red light begins to glow
A relic from a ancient alien base
The fears of the child unheeded
Shot to a new dimension of time/space
(fast forward to present day)
An enormous spaceship
Shaped like a child's soccer ball
Appears in Earth's atmosphere
A whole planet looks up in awe
A shuttle quickly dispatched
Ambassadors in shock to see
A five-year-old child awaits
Screaming, I want my mommy!!!
With a wave of his arm
As an infantile deity
He brushes aside any opposition
Showing his invulnerability
With a stomp of his foot
Mountains tremble and shake
And with the slightest nod
Causing a devastating tidal wave
Where is my mommy?
Rings throughout the Earth
As governments search for a candidate
With the tact and with the nerve
To say the magic words
And appease this child god
Praying he will not discover
The presentation will be a fraud
The door slowly opens
A professional woman appears
The young boy looking up
His eyes spilling with tears
Are you my mommy?
Child, where have you been?
I've been looking all over
I'm not letting you away again
Taking him in her arms
Trying to complete the sell
But he notices her trembling
And the ruse can only fail
You are not my mommy!!!
He screams out in anger
They told me to do this, she says
Pleading back into a corner
Disintegrating the woman
Childish fury unleashed
Armageddon from a toddler
Like a mythology from Greece
Looking at the moon
Then a fling of his head
A temper tantrum afoot
Earth becomes a fireball of red
So if someone shows up
Flexing their "God" muscle
Perhaps is just another life form
And simply pulling off a hustle
A mind from another plane
Simply having more force
Perhaps is no better than us
Perhaps is possibly worse?
Just because someone has power
Does not make them divine
And anyone who desires worship
Perhaps has the mind of a child?
And if we bow in obedience
Just because they can dazzle
Can we face the possibility
That maybe we worship pure evil?
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!
That night when we laid with our backs on a sleeping carpet of grass, we looked up at the
night and explored the vast sky. The star speckled sky stretched across the universe like
wallpaper over an infinite wall. The planets shot across the sky as we played with them like
marbles. The stars decorated the wallpaper in a patterned form. We broke their pattern as I
used a tree branch to shoot them like pool balls into black holes. The planets swirled and
spun blurry like dancing Easter eggs. We satiated our thirst as the Milky Way spilled out onto
the wallpaper. We used Saturn’s rings as monkey bars to dangle above the night. I hid
behind Mars and relished its warmth as we played hide-and-seek. You kicked the earth like a
soccer ball, you sent it rocketing out of the solar system and made a goal into the opposing
galaxy's net. You never liked earth anyway, it was too dirty, so you sent it cutting across the
sky with an airless effort. When we finished, we had changed the universe. The stars were
splattered on and the planets globbed on like a Jackson Pollack painting. The moon had
come to watch, half of his face lit up and the other half was dark and undefined. It looked like
someone pinned up the phantom of the opera’s mask. The moon watched with delight. It
smiled at us because tonight his sky was our playground. We tired out and I rested my head
on your firm shoulder. You looked at me with the sky reflecting back through your eyes. With
a fading breath, the words, “I love you,” floated out from your rosebud lips in a warm breeze
that cloaked my body. With those words the paper sky peeled from its wall and fell with slow
grace like a leaf from a tree. Then the paper landed and the sky blanketed our embraced
bodies. We drifted into an undisturbed sleep, warmed by the relieving glow of the stars.
Form:
Soccer
Playing soccer was my passion, and I knew it from the very beginning.
Every day, every night, soccer was always present in my everyday life.
Since the day I was born, I’d always pick up a soccer ball and kick it around, trying to achieve my goal of being a
PROFESSIONAL SOCCER PLAYER.
The sport is so magical, like an animation in a movie.
Everything about it taught me lots of major lessons that I still benefit from every day.
From the moment you meet your teammates that become brothers to you,
To the coaches that become like another family figure in your life.
Every touch you take needs to be precise in order to move through defenders, trying to get hold of the ball at your feet.
Every pass you make needs the right amount of power and spin to generate a quality roll on the ball to your teammate.
Soccer teaches you not just the physical part but how to interact with your peers and opponents.
Successful teams have players that are willing to stay positive and keep players motivated when parts of the game don't go your way.
Talking on the field helps your team give advice on how to play better and adapt different tactics.
Being positive on the field is crucial in order to play calm and be an active player on the roster.
Sometimes you won’t always play as much as you would like.
People have bad games where they feel like they aren’t good enough.
Staying positive helps keep your team from arguing with each other while also helping you remember that everyone isn’t perfect and bad games will occur.
Playing the game of soccer brings people together and teaches others important lessons in life.
It shapes people to who they are as a person and how they go about their everyday lives.
Everyone's gone...
There's no one to look up to...not one...
Not one will be kind enough
To look down and attempt to help me...
Everyone's gone...
I'm beneath the debris
There's no one there to save me...
I'm left to my own misery
Everyone's gone...
I guess I'll find my way out of this maze
Without any clues
I'm waiting for relief to dawn upon me
Everyone's gone
I'm dealing with so much trauma
I'm watching for any signs of support...
Hear my echoes of pain...
It drives me insane...
Catch me before I fall off the cliff...
Everyone's gone
I'm all skin and bones
I'm trapped like a hunted animal
The predator took a bite into me...
Don't just watch me suffer...
Deserted in this lonesome state
Everyone's gone
I'm kicked around like a soccer ball
Hear me as I call...
Help me to stand tall
Help me...
Reach up to the sky
To feel the coolness seep through me
Help me...
To be inspired to write more uplifting songs
Help me think more positively - help me wave g'bye
Help me...
Forgive me for all of my wrongs...
Everyone's gone
I'm a screwed-up building
I need you to be my backbone
Straighten me up...help me to be stiff like a soldier
About to enter another horrifying war
Support me today...
And stick with me tomorrow!
I want to let go of the past memories...
Scaring away my happy moments and delights
I want to smear away the blasphemies…
Obliterating my blissful days and nights
Everyone's gone...
There's no one to depend on...not one...
Not one will be brave enough
To look down and attempt to help me...
Everyone's gone...
I'm beneath the city
There's no one to show me the jolly sun...
I'm left to my own misery
Everyone's gone...
Fine… I'll find a way to get out of this nightmare
Without any clues
I'm waiting for relief to give me strength instead of fear
I keep coming back
to the root of my problems
like a broken record
skipping on the same track
and I can't move forward until I fix the scratch
Soooo
like a mime in an imaginary glass box
I peer out on the world
wishing that I discovered the key to finding my way out
I see the promise of what I could be in the future
Long beautiful hair falling over my ivory ceramic dollface
with an elegant runners body, and my curves that would make Da Vinci deliriously envious
for they are grander then his Leda and the Swan piece .
I see my shoulders as relaxed as a golden retriever mid running dream
I think that I could fall deeply in love
faster than Humpty Dumpty who tumbled from the wall
Nor would I crack and become a mess like I had before
I will be a human marble
I have been trying to be Atlas with the world on my shoulders.
Taking the burder of everyones problems
Like when we were little kids and we would throw in leafs and sticks in a pot, and call it a
potion
But people's life problems potions can often be poisonous
Atlas should have taken the world and kicked it like a soccer ball
so far across the universe that Beckham would be proud of it
Therefore the key to rehabilitating yourself in your man made mime mind prison
is this.....
Learn to focus your mind on the positives
Let go of the littlest anxieties
For in a world of Aids, Cancers, and starving kids
you have to put it all in retrospective
Find your place, and your gifts
laugh with your friends
Make passionate love to your lovers
This makes the days go by and brings you one step to a healthier closure
Keep on fighting to be the wonderful and brilliant person you know you can be.
Form:
I love to stay involed with my community.One of the ways I do that is by playing
sports. Playing sports is a great way to meet new people. It’s fun because when I
go to some of the other high schools I see people from our old teams who you
are playing against now. Everyone involved in sports here at Mercy High is
encouraging and supporting. The sports I am involved in are cross country,
basketball, and soccer.
One of the sports I do is cross country. This is the first year I have
ever done cross country. It has been extremely fun being on the cross country
team because all the girls on the team are super nice. During every race they will
be there cheering me on, even if I am the last one too cross the finish line. I think
that running can be boring, but my parents, coaches and other runners always
encourage me. The main reason I am doing cross country though is to stay in
shape for basketball.
My favorite sport is basketball, which I play in the winter. I have been
playing basketball ever since I was a second grader. Basketball is my favorite
sport because I love the way the game is constructed.. Basketball is a team
sport. You could be the best player in the world but have awful teammates which
could results in a loss.
During the Spring I play soccer. Just like basketball, soccer is a team
sport. You need to be able to communicate with the other players. I have been
playing soccer almost my whole life. Soccer is a great sport for anyone to play
because when you are younger the soccer ball and fields are all smaller. Some
sports are to hard to play when you are young because you don’t have the
strength.
Form:
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
Blue memoirs fall from her sky eyes
As blue memoire fall from her eyes
right down where I slept, I picked it up.
My memories, they tingle me,
like flashes of a cinema screenplay, I see;
A field, goalkeeper in orange, a striker
dress in red jerseys, and
a blue soccer ball shot up into thin air
by the striker after raising and bouncing
It incessantly on the green field, tosses it.
though it didn't seem broken outward,
yet wailing inside in silence as it falls
at least for goalkeeper to pick it up
am that goalkeeper, I did caught all
droplet with my eyes--you go on ahead and
guess who the striker be, no not Maradona
or Pele Cos my momma is the blue ball.
I see a red rose, I see my momma
having many thorns on her petals,
Some few bruised weakling spots,
Yet she blossoms singing "silent nights".
I picture her embattled face, a
brownie nightingale, with a bleeding beak
Singing lullaby in broken tones, and though
non can write down her lyrics yet tending
to her nestling---with iced dank brown
camera eyes, painted in the horrors of an
African nativity, in the claws a taboo.
if a woman crosses another man the
gods are left to strike off her doom. But
the man, a moonlit journey walker on other
blank sheets, striding other lawns as he chooses,
but the gods ain't strike no mane So his taboo is but
an illegal legal practice on nativity.
Below a Link 2 watch it on my YouTube channel
https://youtu.be/EVnF_Zusyf4