Long Stadium Poems
Long Stadium Poems. Below are the most popular long Stadium by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stadium poems by poem length and keyword.
i met humor at the marketplace
selling her self made brand
from sacs filled with fun she dashed out
as we cluster around her shed
her goods even at the costliest price i will never care to bargain
because in my heart filled with gladness
i had bought in great percentage of discount
i met humor at the balcony
her first impression brought a smile
with basket filled with capsules of console she visits me
i laughed till my ribs want to sprain
the fountain of my tears dried up
my pain sublimed till it was no more
i met humor at the stadium
where noise flows with keys
and fanaticism pledges allegiance in style
22 adult chase one leather ball around
nevertheless their exhibition was all fascinating
i lost my voice cus i was lost in the crowd
HAIL THE KING OF NAPOLI (1)
The Chronicles of the old king, Diego.
An epitaph of his statue reads: "When I go,
I go away from you then this badge
loses honour and beats dead with no urge"
Like a slackened drum that fades afar5.
I call out for you against my jutted star
And shout into the wind ridges like I'm barking,
Calling out for a successor regardless of skin,
Man mountain like Osimhen who's very keen,
African-breed & blooded but the spirit of Maradona.¹°
He's not one to score PKs doing a rabona.
This club waited for him who would hold the sway
Then the masked mafia mustered his way
From Lagos Nigeria to French club Lille Metropolis,
shatterin' Weah's goal record like voices in the Holies,¹5
Surmounted surgery & the pain of facial disfigure,
returned from the sidelines with a happy demeanour,
and became the face of Napoli, a phenomenon.
Rose from a whole season among giants & gladiators,
but endure weights of expectations among spectators.²°
The city's folklore is rewritten in the stars.
This masked man, you won't smite his armour
while scoring goals, giving assists and more.
V.O 9 evinces predatory under the floodlights thrill
and sees blood in goal when'ver it's time for the kill.²5
Heaven gave us this day but Osimhen delivers it
And set the Diego Armando Maradona stadium alight,
denotating a blinding brand of lightning!
All like a day's job from he whose pace is frightening.
Naples, this city of thy worship, jumps in hysteria,³°
Set ever free! Free from the drought of Serie A.
Joy engulfs the air, devouring the hearts of men,
which pantest for lost glory returned by Osimhen,
Naked, beneath the lidless eye of the heavens!
Naples, Elysian City of Ocean Blue & Ravens,³5
calm enchantest amid mutinous air & sea!
Parade the heroes from Campania to the Tyrrhenian Sea!
Oh! What a Metropolis of ruined Paradise.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? May 2023.
Women Who LOVE Football
Are DIFFERENT from the rest
They live their LIFE with PASSION
They love their FAMILY best.
They aren’t afraid to get their hands DIRTY
They are not afraid to FIGHT
They know how to put their GAME FACE on
Attempting last DOWN's under Stadium lights.
They are always ready to EXECUTE their OPTIONS
They always plan to SCORE
They have a sense of PURPOSE
And are STRONGER than they think.
They WILL NEVER GIVE UP without a fight
They always PLAY by all the RULES
They have a positive ATTITUDE
They always keep their COOL.
Women who LOVE Football
Will always WIN with STYLE
And if they ever happen to LOSE
They will always lose with DIGNITY
Leaving their problems upon the FIELD.
(Version 2 revised December 21, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)
(December 21, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Owen is Welsh as he comes from Rhuddian,
Lives there but trains in Stoke Mandeville,
In Buckinghamshire, the Aylesbury stadium:
He was born on 30 November 1975, will.
In December 2012 after the Paras, London,
He went to a ParalympicsGB Sports Fest,
Where he discovered that his fiery ambition,
Was shooting, so joined a club in a quest.
He’s competed an many IPC World Cups,
His best finish is 5th spot, a fine placement,
Which happened at Fort Benning, run-ups,
An army training base in the USA cogent.
Through this qualified for Rio’s Games,
And enjoys photography, wood carving,
Quad biking, badminton and he names,
Archery, it’s synchronous with shooting.
Temper temper
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
Temper temper tantrum
Chaos and the clutter
Pulling hair and
Snarling bantum
Screaming mad shrew
Like in a stadium boo boo
Bloody Mary
Yelling red volcano
Suspend your eruption
Of push and snap
Stop your
Foul melody
All over again
Don't claim
What is not ..
Supreme you
Wanna be
Complain complain
Blame blame
You wanna play
A shameless game
Temper temper tantrum
Chaos and the clutter
Rest your daily nag
Or we lose all
Affection in the sanitarium
Reset and mellow be
Alluring, bright and cheery
You had it fair
Rant on rant
Will not bend
The anvil
And I am
Over splendid.
He's in the starting position, he looks to the sky, kissing the cross around his neck
No time to joke he's representing the black, green and gold
His eyes fixed to the finish line
Winning is the only mission in mind
It’s time for business...the gun goes off ...he moves ...lightning fast
He's Bolt ...Jamaica to the world.
With a great big smile, he crosses the finish line no one to the right, no one to the left he knocks his chest
9.65 was his time
The stadium screams...flags in hand the black, green and gold
Jamaica …Jamaica "Bolt to the world " they shouted
He knows he's great
He has no limits
He celebrates with pride in true Jamaican style
The crowd calls out Bolt ...Bolt ...Bolt...he dances to entertain them to a dancehall rhythm
He knows he will be remembered as the king of sprint
The Jamaican legend
I am Usain Bolt the fastest man on earth
Bama’s Night Before Christmas
T’was the night before Christmas, and all through Bryant-Denny,
The championship banners were whipping in the wind, as a constant reminder
That the Tide never gives in. With the mood set and the time just right.
Our Boys were getting ready for one heck of a fight!
The air was brisk and the stands were cold,
But that soon would change as the Bama pride and tradition soon would unfold.
For the stadium would soon fill with a sea of crimson and white,
And the smell of victory would soon fill the air on that glorious night.
When out on the empty field echoed such a clatter,
So I ran onto the field to see what was the matter.
Straight to the fifty in a mad dash,
Even I was absolutely amazed that I was there in a flash.
Then in the end-zone what should appear,
But a Crimson tour bus and eight “Big Al” reindeer;
And out stepped a man, with his playbook in hand and with a brief pause,
Thundered: “My name is Nick… and there’s no relation to that man named Claus”.
Then, a ghostly cheer from an absent crowd was calling his name,
As the ol’ coach proudly would exclaim:
“This is Arenas and Cody and Grant and Hightower,
And Ingram and Jones and Maze and McElroy.”
A suggestion to those with this burdensome task…the fight was on indeed,
He hurried onto the turf, with a burning desire to succeed.
His eyes, how attentive - his face was beaming,
His cheeks were crimson, his nose was the same… as his blood was steaming.
He had an intent face that seemed like stone; lacking Mt. Cody’s enormous belly
That quivered like a crimson sea full of jelly.
And jolly ol’ Nick divertingly uttered a Roll-Tide-Roll!
As the opposing team easily folded as the ladder this unfortunate entry foretold.
Then he faced his boys and also the fans and to all he told,
“Merry Christmas to All and to All a Roll-Tide-Roll!
Cooling evening air and the smell of naughty smoke,
nameless camarades all sharing beers and a joke
beneath a natural stadium roof of stars and midnight blue
massed ranks all sat by fires, just like the eve of Waterloo.
huddled expectation, leather jacket wrapped round tight
monolithic stage a silhouette in crisp moonlight.
Someone shouts for Wally, or a friend that has gone missing
giggles under blanket from some dreamy youngsters kissing.
Conversation halted by the two-word intervention
“one two,one two” Marshall HiWatt really gets the crowd's attention.
People racing to the front, they want to get there first
The noise as bubbling patience starts to strain now, fit to burst.
I shout out to the burger bar for brother, but in vain
the roar from eighty thousand like an oncoming subway train.
A single drumbeat, crashing chord, a fan of laser light,
the massed ranks rise, fists to the sky, guys, here we go- Alllllllllllrightttttttt!
One minute in, it's deafening, the front rows start to jam,
my raison d'etre plainly clear- I rock, therefore I am.
When we were kids no one got paid to go to summer school.
The A plus kids did not vie to get their applications in first.
They did not go.
Times have changed.
The A and B students are the first ones to sign up.
Some C’s get cajoled into summer school by their parents.
Other C’s stand their ground, refusing to go. They are in charge.
The D and F students are required to go.
Their parents do not make them.
Mandatory needs nothing to them.
A result of hating school themselves and not learning that word.
Besides, school has no value.
Their students will be NFL quarterbacks and stadium-filling singers.
Just like they were.
Small stadium built in the late forties,
minor-league once, but has been left behind,
built with girders and backless, wooden seats,
a local relic of an older time.
The players look so young, barely can shave,
the pitching is rough and some balls are dropped,
a few have been drafted by big league names,
one has promise, at ninety-four was clocked.
Young kids run around, and between innings
some do wacky races upon the field,
but have fun even if they’re not ‘winning,’
and the high-fives from the players are real.
So far not a hit has yet cleared the wall,
but six bucks is still good for live baseball.