Basketball Poems

~
My love for basketball is like a fire that never goes out,
Day in and day out, I'm always playing the game,
During game day i always have a route,
Everyday before the game I'm always doing the same.
It's like a job i play at full speed,
So long as you live for it, you must play for love of the game,
During basketbal you don't always get what you need,
Growing up with basketball was the only love i tame.
One day I plan to play college ball,
Growing up i play for fun with my friends,
After the eighth grade, i grew tall,
Deep down inside i know it's got to end,
The times when you lose aren't fun at all,
But deep down inside you know you've got next fall.

~
Yes, everyone must have a basketball.
It's the gift that must be given to all,
Because with it, everyone can have a ball.
You can bump it to touch the sky;
Something all want to do before they die.
Best of all, it is very easy to dry.
You can use just one sheet of bounty;
Water runs off it like pretty girls run from me;
By the way, that is something you ought to see!
Just pump it and you will have a best friend,
A classy one, if you are willing to spend;
You can get a warranty that does not end.
Spalding is the brand used by the NBA,
It makes for one hell of a play,
But you do not have to take what I say.
Try it for yourself and you will see,
A basketball is a friend without animosity.
Get one! If I were you, I would do so quickly.

~
Life is like playing basketball
dribble, run, walk, jump and shoot.
play without a ball and a goal
and the game will be pointless
so keep an eye on the ball and focus on the goal
dribble, sweat, give energy and effort
and play with enthusiasm and joy.

~
I hit the court
The ball in my hand
Only problem is
I lost my wristbands
They're somethin' special
I couldn't replace
Another problem is
I didn't tie my lace
Then I realized
That it's not the bling
It's the faith in yourself
cause I made it in the ring

~
Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot,
Bends with the trolley tracks, and stops, cut off
Before it has a chance to go two blocks,
At Colonel McComsky Plaza. Berth's Garage
Is on the corner facing west, and there,
Most days, you'll find Flick Webb, who helps Berth out.
Flick stands tall among the idiot pumps-
Five on a side, the old bubble-head style,
Their rubber elbows hanging loose and low.
One's nostrils are two S's, and his eyes
An E and O. And one is squat, without
A head at all-more of a football type.
Once Flick played for the high-school team, the Wizards.
He was good: in fact, the best. In '46
He bucketed three hundred ninety points,
A county record still. The ball loved Flick.
I saw him rack up thirty-eight or forty
In one home game. His hands were like wild birds.
He never learned a trade, he just sells gas,
Checks oil, and changes flats. Once in a while,
As a gag, he dribbles an inner tube,
But most of us remember anyway.
His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench.
It makes no difference to the lug wrench, though.
Off work, he hangs around Mae's Luncheonette.
Grease-gray and kind of coiled, he plays pinball,
Smokes those thin cigars, nurses lemon phosphates.
Flick seldom says a word to Mae, just nods
Beyond her face toward bright applauding tiers
Of Necco Wafers, Nibs, and Juju Beads.

The ball flies through the air
Arcing towards the hoop
All eyes are fixed
Will it hit the mark?
And then - swish

Sneakers squeak on polished wood
Sweat beads on foreheads
Players weave and dodge
Bouncing the ball to and fro
This is their court

The target stands tall
A circle of metal and mesh
A challenge for some
A friend to others
The rim beckons

The clock ticks down
Seconds feel like hours
The game hangs in the balance
One shot could change everything
And then - pure ecstasy

Medium Poems

We dribble, we shoot, we score,
As the ball swishes through the hoop once more.
The court buzzes with energy and thrill,
As we play with passion and will.

But this game is more than just hoops and net,
It's a battle of hearts that we can't forget.
For on this court, we see each other as equals,
And our love for the game fuels our eagles.

With each pass, we communicate,
Our movements synchronized and great.
And as the clock winds down to zero,
Our love and basketball skills both grow.

In this dance of sweat and grit,
We embrace the ties that bind us bit by bit.
And though the game may end in victory or defeat,
Our bond is strong and will never accept defeat.

For love and basketball are one and the same,
And we'll keep playing this game until our last name.

The swoosh of the net,
The bounce that we pet,
The creak of the floor,
The crowd's uproar.

These are the sounds of basketball,
That thrill our senses and spirits enthrall.
The rhythm and flow of this sport,
Is what we cherish and in our hearts court.

We hear the players' breaths and sighs,
As they run and jump before our eyes.
Their movements echo like a symphony,
Crafting an art that captures our harmony.

The sound of basketball is a language of its own,
With a lexicon of moves that are seldom known.
It's an orchestra where every player has a part,
And we all play to the beat of our own heart.

So come, let's listen to the sound of basketball,
And let it conquer our minds and enthrall.
For there's nothing like the music it creates,
As we soar to heights that will forever equate.

Long Poems

A Fast Break to Victory

A game of speed and agility,
Basketballs flying, plays unfold rapidly.
Athletes in motion, fans in commotion,
The crowd goes wild, overseeing the action.

With each dribble and every pass,
The clock ticks down, no time to waste.
The tension mounts, the time draws near,
The stakes are high with victory near.

The players charge, through the fray they race,
Their hearts pumping, adrenaline in haste.
Focused and ready, they push on through,
Driven by passion, and the promise of something new.

The ball is passed, with precision and care,
Bouncing from hand to hand, without any despair.
The shot goes up, the crowd on the edge of their seat,
Silence falls, as the ball soars, fast and neat.

The buzzer sounds, the final call,
The team comes together, one and all.
With pride and power in their eyes,
They celebrate their victory cry.

A fast break to glory, a story of triumph,
A game of skill, where the best come to shine.
A bond of a family, united as one,
The game of basketball, a never-ending romance.