Long Volleyball Poems
Long Volleyball Poems. Below are the most popular long Volleyball by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Volleyball poems by poem length and keyword.
David can often be seen hot on the trail,
Of Richard Whitehead, sprinter, runner,
And was reported in Rio de Janero’s mail,
As the 200m bronze medalist, stunner.
He went to St George Catholic College,
Located in Southhampton, that busy port,
Attended Hertfordshire Uni on the page
Of mechanical engineering, to his purport.
But having joined the Army, made officer,
One day he stepped on a hidden IED,
So both his legs were amputated, better,
But he walked in no time, sports to see.
During his rehab at MOD Headley Court,
David found himself by sports enthused,
And got into swimming, basketball’s court,
Also sitting volleyball did find him amused.
After rehabilitation David did a Masters,
In biomedical engineering, at Imperial,
He inquired into an amputee’s masters -
Their prosthetics - he had opinions vocal.
At the Invictus Games he did many sports,
To win the gold in the 200 metres sprint,
And so made the 2015 IPC Euro consorts,
In Doha, Qatar, to bear the UK flag, flint.
The next year in 2016, Euros in Grosseto,
He was clipped to the line by Whitehead,
And so ran in Rio to entertain with gusto,
When he almost fell, but recovered dead.
For children, summer is swing sets and slides,
ice cream or snow cones, carnival rides,
the school bell’s last ring as kids flee the school,
hot dogs at ball games and days at the pool.
It’s pitching a tent and eating s’mores,
then down at the lake with rowboat and oars.
Summer’s the chasing of fireflies at night
and telling of ghost tales in flickering light.
It’s skateboards and bikes and just feeling free,
a volleyball net in the sand by the sea.
It’s summer vacation in one’s family car
with stops at motels when traveling far.
It’s sitting on blankets, eyes up at the sky
while watching the fireworks on Fourth of July
Summer’s a caterpillar; we want it to c r a w l,
then turn into a butterfly, the brightest of all!
It’s corn on the cob, and ever so sweet -
the melon the kid in us all wants to eat!
May 30, 2019
For Sheri Fresonke Harper's Objectifying A Season Poetry Contest
There's...
america
anniversary
art
autumn
anxiety
best friend
betrayal
birth
and the beach
candy
car
city
celebrity
devotion
desire
depression
destiny
education
engagement
emo
and eulogy
future
funeral
farm
funny love
gothic
girlfriend
grief
and growing up
hair
hip hop
hockey
hilarious
immigration
inspiration
islamic
innocence
january
jewish
jobs
don't forget jesus
kiss
kindergarten
along with
kid
london
loss
lonely
and lyric
may
me
math
then there's marriage
new york
new year
nonsence
nostalgia
old
october
obituary
onomatopoeia
places
plants
pashto
and poetess
race
rap
rainbow
rainforest
space
spanish
spiritual
with success
teenage
tiger
trust
technology
vacation
volleyball
vogon
visionary
war
water
women
and even write
but for the life of me
I can't find one category
for a poem on pie!
It was a beautiful day for a picnic in the park,
We all thought we would stay there until dark.
Just enjoying the peace of a late summer bliss,
Like a departing lover engages you with a kiss!
We lunched on good food, and played volleyball,
And butterflies drifted by, 'til the crickets called.
Such a vividly golden and relaxing summer's day,
But then, orange sun was finally coming our way!
My family and I gathered all of our belongings,
Making a pleasant ending of our fun day longings.
As we strolled and chattered, birds sang loudly,
Like a peacock strutting, and preening so proudly!
My family was ahead of me, and I took up the rear,
Viewing scenery, while hearing them chat with one ear.
But very suddenly, I felt the strangest sensation-
Like being jerked, quite rapidly, to another nation!
Since my voice was gone, I couldn't inform a soul,
That I'd just been swallowed by a mini black hole!
Darkness all around, except for a circular top view,
Of marshmallow cream clouds, at the evening's debut!
Laughter and butterflies and children flying kites,
There never was good reason to end summer's rites!
Concerning my family, I could only wish them well;
Would I ever see them again? Only time would tell!
Speaking of which, my watch had gotten awful slow,
It was hard to move and cramped, with nowhere to go.
Like a butterfly lies dreaming of freedom's escape,
Or the sun whispering its warmth, to a ripening grape.
Then all of a sudden, I felt one tremendous jolt,
The unstable, mini black hole had begun its revolt!
I was suddenly ejected, like a ball from a cannon,
And relished the fun view, before journey was done.
Into the park's pond, I unceremoniously splashed,
Surprising many quacking ducks, whom then dashed!
Where was my family? A new dawn was now breaking,
Behind were regrets, which joy was fast overtaking!
My family didn't believe me, not even a little bit,
No proof in the corridors that have never been lit.
I was officially missing-I'd been gone three weeks!
I was quite famished, thin, and gaunt in the cheeks.
My family made me a feast, and I soon went to bed,
And the golden sun chased, until the stars had fled!
Folks in Old Coppice have been heard to say,
Sometimes a swirling evening mist comes down,
And glimpsed as in a waking dream they may
See wraith-like figures wandering on the lawn
In silent converse, they're so pale and wan,
And to a man, they've all got nothing on.
A hearty game of volleyball they'd play,
If weather wet, then maybe dominoes.
Earnest discourse on issues of the day,
Over tea and buttered crumpets, who knows,
Who can recall, such days of old, long gone?
In innocence, they all had nothing on.
Their pleasure was the sunshine on their skin.
Unfettered by the clothes of everyday,
Their harmless actions seen by some as sin,
A wicked presence on the Shropshire Way.
The trappings of the world outside forgone,
Their happiness, they all had nothing on.
These days, enlightened, we no longer judge
Their simple pastime as abomination.
Sun lovers all around the world indulge
And imitate the dawn of all creation,
Reflecting on a paradise that's gone,
One man, one woman, each with nothing on.
The Silence of a Library
David J Walker
Here is where I will live
Beyond the fear
of the coming death
And its imagined motif
Find me on 26th street
at the park with my friends on
a cool summer evening
laughing about the coming
unfamiliar days we fear
Some design their own white robes and
Gilded ropes braided around their waists
differentiating the
gender of cherubs
Some accept the silence and
the blackness of the nothingness
of not knowing
Some await the inevitable alternative universe
Created to suit the nature of the attendants
Some practice the celibacy and the silence of
The library with books to confirm their convictions
But we will play volleyball as the sunsets
And the temperature drops
The lights come on automatically
And we play until the dawn and
Fall asleep between the swing sets
the injustice of
the powder blue box
standing proudly
on the corner of
fifty-seventh and fifth
A symbol of division
extending the partition
between wealth and
everyone else
back around the way
the old shabby
half shingled house
was home to the
second hand charlie brown
size thirteen shoes
worn by
the size thirteen girl
sitting on the second
stair stoop
when she was just thirteen
no one heard her scream
no one saw her run
and hide in shame
under the rough wool
of poverty that had never
comforted or warmed her
her playgrounds were
clotheslines for volleyball
and cracked tarred side streets
for hopscotch
forced to scratch and climb each day
up through that
crammed and crowded pit
fighting to reach the light before
the trap was sealed shut on the door
there’s a quota, you see
only some will be allowed
a chance to be free
everyone knew
most will not make it through
the others doomed
to return and make do
forced to accept
false narratives and
live by corrupted rules
but just remember
the megaphone
fed down into the abyss
is an acoustic indoctrination
and it never ceases to play
“two plus two
equals four”
a deliberate
echo to trance
the suffocated poor
yet one percent
know the real truth
two plus two
equals anything
you want it to
entrenched in power
they refuse to let go
protecting the system
they must maintain
the status quo
so she stands in line
to make the climb
determined to reach
the top in time
she knows her freedom
is just beyond that light
as she hears the trap door
slam behind
she feels the warmth
of destiny on her face
knowing that countless others
are left behind
trapped in a sinkhole
of poverty and oppression
in a mental cage
that denies their rights
Another warm day has begun,
Soaking in the California sun.
Volleyball players having fun,
Joggers flying by on the run.
Children brave the tide unafraid,
Couples snuggle close in the shade.
Surfers with tans that never fade,
Sailboat owners got it made.
Wind boarders pressing their luck,
Those buried in the sand are stuck.
Food vendors selling from a truck,
Trying to make an honest buck.
Girls wear bikinis that rock,
Guys carry phones in their sock.
The pallid are smearing sunblock,
Nobody cares about the clock.
Grandpa's still acting like a clown,
Grandma's still wearing a frown.
Parents with wet towels all around,
Waiting for the sun to go down.
Singing birds and laughing children
Summer sounds seep into our senses
Friends, family and neighbors socialize
Backyard shaded lounging chairs
children playing nearby
Summertime sunshine and outdoor adventure
Fishing at dawn on smooth lake with dad
Swimming, volleyball, of course no teacher
Playing and riding bikes 'till called in for bed
Warm days... balmy nights
barbecues and campfire talks
moments together
friends, families and neighbors
good company and laughter
Written April 7, 2018
'It's All About Four' Contest
By Broken Wings
Tenth Place
Forms in the order given here:(For a total of 14 lines) Cystalline-2 lines, Kimo-3 lines, Quatrain-4 lines, Tanka-5 lines
Spring appears in waves of magenta, ochre, and kelly green
Prisms dance across hallways and ceilings
Raucous laughter rolls over fields of clover
Each child spreads their arms and runs, tumbles,
and blows bubbles
Afternoon picnics are spread with red and white checkered cloths and finger foods while the sun beams down
Drowsy from the heat, young girls wander smiling in their white dresses and daisy crowns towards the pond
Ice cold, melting sweet tea is served to thirsty groups and graciously accepted after the long hike to the peak
Never-ending tides lap against the white sand, a boy returns a beach ball to the volleyball players
Giving thanks, receiving blessings, they hold hands ‘round the dinner table and then break hot crusty rolls and reminisce on memories of winter
Hope ascends with the morning over the tops of the swaying Cyprus trees
All the house is still sleeping, tucked into homemade quilts
Percolating coffee soon rouses the senses of the dreamy folk and they descend the stairs, wiping their eyes
Periwinkle flowers, dazzling crimson rose bushes and salty air beckons from open windows
Into the brambles the boys traipsed with their pretend guns and stick ponies while the girls shrieked with laughter and then ran to join in
Nutmeg, clove, and orange rinds bubbled on the stove and wafted through the cabin as mothers gazed at the merriment outdoors
Each glorious hour passed like dandelions in the wind
Spring enveloped the village into her loving arms
She sang to each and every home and family songs of blowing white curtains, fields of Heather, sparkling dewy skin and the promise of another day