Art Tennis Poems

These are the best sports poems by Michael R. Burch, Part II

The Locker
by Michael R. Burch

All the dull hollow clamor has died
and what was contained,
removed,
reproved
adulation...

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If my house was on fire,
What would be the things, without which I would not retire?

Sixteen minutes of fate and so many things to accumulate.
Seven...

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in my home
am not alone
i have bats
by the stack
in fact
i also have a 
TENNIS RACK...

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it fell  the water fall
it was  a tennis ball
as i recall
i love the game
not for fame
i play againts the wall
until i funish
its
TENNIS...

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free versing is a scoreless, netless
                   ...

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