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Basketball Poems
Basketball Poems Competition 2004 "Basketball - Poetry in Motion" Celebrating the game of basketball in poems A site by Garo Salibian
Special InternationalBasketball.com Feature
Submit your basketball poems at: worldbasketball@yahoo.com or info@internationalbasketball.com
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Basketball Poems website sections:
Basketball Poems 2006 Competition Contains winners for all years and new participating basketball poems for this year Basketball Poems 2005 Competition Contains the three winners and all other participating basketball poems Basketball Poems 2004 Competition Contains the three winners and all other participating basketball poems Basketball Poems 2003 Competition Contains the three winners and all other participating basketball poems Basketball Poems Links and Media
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Winners "Competition 2004":
First Prize: Cole Bossman: "Basketball" Second prize: Richard Lee: "The Endless Dream" Third Prize: Rachel Furey: "Early Morning Practice"
Other contestants "Competition 2004": Mathew Blair: "Untitled" Kayly Lyn Clark: "The Game is Here" Kyndel Lauren Dollison: "Brand New" Georgia Flowers: "Untitled" Rachel Furey: "Dreamin' It Up" Samer Jaber: "My Dream Team" (Dedicated to Lebanese Riyadi Basketball Club) Nikki Jarnagin: "Basketball's Not Just a Sport" Richard Lee: "Success" Richard Lee: "The Living Dream" Brittany Liberty: "The Love for the Game" Brittany Liberty: "Take It Up Strong" Nick Lopez: "Staying Ahead of the Game" Dodie New: "Wings to Sail" James Riley: "The Sounds of the Game" Jonathan Roger: "So Close......" Madonna Saad: "The Short One" Brandon Wells: "Fast Break, Buzzer Beater"
Basketball Poems 2004 Competition Winners
First Prize
Basketball By Cole Bossman
The
beat of the ball marks my rhythm, Times
like these let you know you are livin', My
calves are burning, crying out in pain, Soaring
through the air they think I'm insane, A
thirteen year old shooting 'till 10 o'clock, they stare, As
I sore easily through the air, They
ask why I do it, why am I there, Why
do I love it so much, why do I care, I
cannot say anything to them, they just don't understand, What
it's like to look down and not be on land, They
don't understand how hard it was to get here, How
I went through disappointment, how I went through fear, How
I played through injury, serious and not, How
I played in the rain, and when it was hot, How
I studied and learned the entire game, Just
to get to the top, so they would know my name, And
so as I stand here, the cold breeze touching my face, I
know I belong here, this is my place, So
when those people ask why I do this all day, I
say, because I love it, I'm here to stay, And
so when the day is long overdue, I
go home happy, good as new, Because
what keeps me going runs in my every vein, It's
this undying love, for this perfect game. © 2004 Cole Bosmann
This is the first time Cole Bosmann has tried to write about basketball. He calls himself "Baller for Life". They had to do a project at school and to write a poem. He was just back from a pickup game and he was still thinking about it and the words just flew easily, he says. "It's just what I feel about it, but not entirely," he admits, "because words can't describe what it's really like." He adds: "People who haven't played basketball can understand this poem, but they can't feel it, can't believe it. This is just a taste of what basketball is, because it is much more". E-mail: cole_bosmann@hotmail.com
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Second Prize
The Endless Dream By Richard Lee
Cold feet move about gracefully as twilight approaches, A single street lights’ dim glow replaces a fading winter sun. The concrete slab is for now the hardwood floor of tomorrow, As each step is repeated over again until night has come.
The first of many wonderful moments came one winter day, An invite to leave the cold, empty concrete slab. Inside an aging building with heavy metal green doors, Lay a hardwood floor waiting to test every known move.
Like the warmth of a blanket this place gave sheer comfort, Against the unforgiving elements each winter night produced. The glare from the lights hanging high about this holy place, Let everyone display their smoothest or newest move.
So many old buildings in so many places then and now, With hardwood floors upon which these feet moved about. Nearly fifty winters have passed since this dream began, The hardwood floors are the same, the feet have stopped at last.
A chair at the edge of the hardwood floor gives a perfect view, From where to see all that those younger cold feet can do.
© 2004 Richard E Lee
Richard Lee is a coach and a writer. A much better coach than a writer, he admits. But the love of the game shows so much in his words here. E-mail: rambler6484@netscape.net
Third Prize
Early Morning Practice By Rachel Furey
I call this a dream stars scattered across the sky the moon bubbling on high beam the ball balanced in my hand as if it were the earth spinning on its axis.
The thud of ball against blacktop speaks out to me like people from the clouds its gentle swish hums like rain rolling onto a roof and hangs in the air like dandelion seeds caught in the wind.
The snow falls to the ground in full flakes like parts of heaven descending for embrace they melt to the blacktop like angels wings melting into a magic dust.
A soft layer of wetness envelopes the ball shimmering onto my anxious fingers somewhere in the distance a coyote calls hitting a high note that will cover miles.
For a moment I hold the ball in my hand as if it's a slice of the world finely carved out just for me I let it go and watch it rotate in the air, a dream turning in midstride. © 2004 Rachel Furey
Rachel Furey is a 20 year old junior at SUNY Brockport majoring in English. She is also pursuing a minor in coaching and would like to coach youth basketball some day. She is passionate about writing and basketball and few days pass where she doesn't engage in both in some way or another. Rachel had also submitted a poem last year entitled "B-Ball" winning the second prize. Read her winning poem on the 2003 Competition page
Email: rfur0629@brockport.edu
Basketball Poems 2004 Competition Other Participants
In alphabetical order of participant (All original submissions are copyright of the writers)
Untitled by Mathew Blair
Inside the arc, that's a one First to ten and then you're done
If your ankle hurts, wear a brace Make sure you tie every lace Palm the ball, there's no harm But call a foul when they hit your arm If he's on your team, call him "bro" If he's not, he's your foe Walk the ball, don't get caught Shoot your jay from your spot
Ball up top in three-on-three Guard your man in the key Win the game, keep the court That's the way to play this sport
© 2004 Mathew Blair
Mathew Blair is a high school teacher, but says will always be a student. He has played basketball for many years, although his favorite experience was playing for a town in Costa Rica, where his team-mates lovingly called him "Yellow Boy." In one game, he says, he kept the opponents to scoring only 16 points in 40 minutes. He loves Costa Rica because he met his beautiful girlfriend there. Mathew Blair is a huge fan of international basketball and particularly Chinese NBA player Yao Ming. He is also an avid poster and also moderator in the http://www.interbasket.net forum dedicated to international basketball. E-mail: mvblair@yahoo.com
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The Game Is Here by Kayly Lyn Clark
The basketball game is finally here Look at those fans jump and cheer When we take a shot, we're sure to hear more Because the Panther team has a winning score Running, passing, down the court Dribbling, shooting, making a score Jumping, shouting, hoping for more Take a look at the Panther score
The score is tied Fans are cheering Go Big Blue
Time has run out Listen to the crowd shout
Going into overtime The Panthers shoot for three The ball rolls around the rim The fans are screaming Because it went in
Oh yeah the Panthers win!
© 2004 Kayly Lyn Clark
Kayly Lyn Clark, 11 years old, is in 5th grade at Central Elementary and she says she loves basketball. This school year was her first year playing basketball. She plays forward and would like to play for the Detroit Shock one day. She knows this will be hard work but she knows she can do it! She loves watching the Detroit Pistons and The Detroit Shock play basketball. She loves basketball E-mail: Hulahunni1620@aol.com **************************
Brand New by Kyndel Lauren Dollison
As players come out of the locker room Excitement fills the gym. Each team member is announced As we think about the win.
The ball goes up, excitement roars As the controlling team goes up and scores. Well done! Good job, we made the goal Now we're defending. We got to go.
Get down in your stance, bend your knees. Be aggressive, solid, and strong. You have to be tough in a game like this, It'll help you later on.
We made some more points, but so did they Now it's fourteen to four. We're still in the lead, so it's okay, But we have to hustle down the floor.
Ten more seconds until we taste the victory That this game has led us to. We hear the buzzer, and we tell the other team, 'The next game is brand new'
© 2004 Kyndel Lauren Dollison
Kyndel Lauren Dollison is 14 years old. He plays basketball on his high school team. He says he has written a lot of poems, but this is his first about basketball. E-mail: Schangeup@aol.com
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Untitled by Georgia Flowers
I stare my opponent down, I have the ball and I'm ready to charge Into the open court ahead The people on the bleachers cheering I take a step Slowly gaining speed ONCE... TWICE... One step.. Two steps.. Three steps and I Jump into a layup.. Arm out-reached Ball running into the hoop Swoosh I win for I am the almighty My team cheers me on My contestants back down All from me The Alpha, the Omega The CHAMPION
© 2004 Georgia Flowers
Georgia Flowers is a 12 year old girl in 7th grade and in a basketball team. Nothing is more important to her than her friends, family and basketball, her favorite thing. In her free time, she challenges her friends, practices a lot and makes drills. Email: ABratAttack@aol.com
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Dreamin' It Up by Rachel Furey
Some people think dreams don't come true ain't got the strength to carry them through spend their time sittin' in the hard church pew their heads all hung and their faces lookin' so blue.
Outside the world's spinnin' all around down the track little boys bound pickin' their pace when the big bell sounds stayin' away from the people pound.
Little girls on the football field no longer feelin' the need to yield to the stereotypical male field- fate stuck in an envelope and sealed.
And I've got this basketball in hand even though five feet tall I stand and when I run it's like sinkin' into sand but here my heart is always playin' big band.
I know there's kids on the sidelines crackin' up cause I ain't got hops to qualify for a jump and in the post I'm not big enough to bump but I'll be standing out there ready to dump.
My shoulders all squared up, my feet set I'll rocket that ball toward the net not leaving my defender time to fret I'll hear that swish-the sweetest sound I ever met.
I don't have the superstar fames or one of those newspaper names but I love this game all the same livin' it day by day in pick-up games.
And even though I don't have a uniform to my name or one solid team to run with game after game I've got this brilliant dream all the same and I always leave this place happy I came.
© 2004 Rachel Furey Rachel Furey is a 20 year old junior at SUNY Brockport majoring in English. She is also pursuing a minor in coaching and would like to coach youth basketball some day. She is passionate about writing and basketball and few days pass where she doesn't engage in both in some way or another. Rachel had also submitted a poem last year entitled "B-Ball" winning the second prize. Read her winning poem on the 2003 Competition page
Email: rfur0629@brockport.edu
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My Dream Team (Dedicated to Lebanese Riyadi Basketball Club) by Samer Jaber
Round and round I search deep down In every team and in every town Yet my dream team has been formed A wonderful kingdom and a crown Downs and failure we'll erase In one team we all believe
© 2004 Samer Jaber
Samer Jaber is a 31 year old professional working in project manager sales and a dedicated fan of Lebanese Riyadi "The Yellow Team". He says he doesn't let any Riyadi match pass by and he just has to be at the game cheering his team. He says: "I always knew it to be strong, team structured and with wonderful play". He decided to write this poem because his dream team is back more powerful than ever, he says. The first letters of the poem read RIYADI" Email: charming_prince98@yahoo.com
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Basketball's Not Just a Sport by Nikki Jarnagin
Basketball's not just a sport, it's a gift u just can't force! You don't have to be a pro or master, just do ur best and u'll learn much faster! If u fall, don't just crawl, get back up and catch the ball! Basketball's not just a sport, it's sweat, talent, coordination, pain, heart beat, and hard work but most importantly smiles, cuz don't forget, no matter what ya gotta love the game!
© 2004 Nikki Jarnagin
Nikki Jarnagin is a 10 year old into sports and loves basketball like no other. E-mail: bball_girl95@hotmail.com
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The Endless Dream by Richard Lee
Cold feet move about gracefully as twilight approaches, A single street lights’ dim glow replaces a fading winter sun. The concrete slab is for now the hardwood floor of tomorrow, As each step is repeated over again until night has come.
The first of many wonderful moments came one winter day, An invite to leave the cold, empty concrete slab. Inside an aging building with heavy metal green doors, Lay a hardwood floor waiting to test every known move.
Like the warmth of a blanket this place gave sheer comfort, Against the unforgiving elements each winter night produced. The glare from the lights hanging high about this holy place, Let everyone display their smoothest or newest move.
So many old buildings in so many places then and now, With hardwood floors upon which these feet moved about. Nearly fifty winters have passed since this dream began, The hardwood floors are the same, the feet have stopped at last.
A chair at the edge of the hardwood floor gives a perfect view, From where to see all that those younger cold feet can do.
Success by Richard Lee
Never say no to a dream that is worthwhile, Even if not attained walk away with a smile. In the eyes of some you may have just failed, Yet for your valiant effort you will be hailed. The knowledge gained in your quest to succeed, Is the priceless reward well worth it indeed. Walk on to tomorrow with your head held high, For you never touched a star you reached the sky. Some dream of things just to pass the time away, Unlike you who’s dream was reached, no small price to pay.
The Living Dream by Richard Lee
Driven by a determination as endless as time, Each day draws me closer to someone divine, Several lifetimes have passed these tired eyes, Yet the passion to know true love never dies. Like my dream, my lover is very real to be sure, For like my dream she has the strength to endure. Time and distance keep us dreaming day and night, Until our arms and lips join in sheer delight. Our day will arrive, not soon enough, when we are one, But now we are left to dream until that day comes.
© 2004 Richard E Lee
Richard Lee is a coach and a writer. A much better coach than a writer, he admits. But the love of the game shows so much in his words here in these poems. E-mail: rambler6484@netscape.net
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The Love for the Game by Brittany #22 Liberty
Taking the ball down the court, or take it up strong,
Take It Up Strong by Brittany #22 Liberty
basketball is always in my heart,
© 2004 Brittany Liberty
Brittany #22 Liberty is 13 and has been playing basketball since she was 6! She is a point guard and a shooting guard and can play forward. She loves it and considers basketball as part of her life. She lives in a small town and says she plays basketball almost everyday and learnt it with encouragement from his brother and parents. E-mail: Jtgraf@aol.com
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Staying Ahead of the Game by Nick Lopez
I
play my heart out from start to end,
© 2004 Nick Lopez
Nick Lopez is 14. He was born and raised in Colorado where he started playing ball when he was six. Since then all he does is sleep, talk and play sports. He says his love for the game is true and that this poem tells it like it is who he is. E-mail: broncosnick@yahoo.com
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Wings to Sail by Dodie New
I see the goal. It is ten feet high. In my young eyes That's high as the sky.
I shoot and shoot, But to no avail. Why should I try, I'd need wings to sail?
Then you take my hand And teach me to aim. You cheer when I try, You shout out my name.
Yes, now I believe I might reach the goal, With encouragement you put Deep in my soul.
© 2004 Dodie New
A certain school in Sidney, Ohio ran an annual workshop involving, this year, pieces of work using a sport theme. On occasion of this volunteer mentoring program, Dodie New wrote this poem to encourage the mentors as a starting point.
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The Sounds of the Game by James Riley
it doesn't matter what you're doing eating dinner, hard at work, you hear them call, and you cannot refuse. the sounds are quite simple, but when they come together they have magic, and they have jordan, bird, kareem, and monroe, they are undeniable and indisputable. the squeak, the bounce, the clang, the grunt, the swish, and thud, you know what they signify, and it draws you, a moth to a flame. the flame consumes you, but like a phoenix from the ashes, you rise again, greater than before, for this flame lifts you up, its burn is love. In the quiet and the dark, you can hear them call, drawing you towards that game called basketball, they are the sounds of the game.
© 2004 James Riley
James Riley is a high school senior, and captain of the varsity team. He has been playing organized ball since 2nd grade. This poem is about the sounds that come from a gym, regardless of the number of people playing or attending. It is a description of how those sounds draws him to a gym. E-mail: donriley@sonic.net
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So Close...... By Jonathan Roger
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Sweat and heart has been poured on the floor, Were up by four with two minutes more. The crowd is into the game with a lot of support, We break the press with a pass down court.
The opposing team makes a beautiful block, They are now amped up and cannot be stopped. Our defense is tired and our players are drained, We can not keep up, we are in too much pain.
Their team drops in a three point and we are called for a foul, He'll go to the free throw line and sink it without a doubt Of course it happened, but their is no time to pout.
The pressures on and the score is tied, With 17 seconds we need to reach deep down inside, To find that least bit of heart that we have left, Because its time to go up court and do our best.
17,16,15,14,13,12,11, and more ticking down, The only thing left is to pass the ball all around. We try to find an open man but our offense is smothered, So I have no choice but to shoot while covered.
I close my eyes and listen to our crowd, Nothing but silence then I hear our crowd get loud. We are up by two, that's how it needs to stay, Victory is so close just 5 seconds away.
The other team throws the ball down court, 5,4,3 we guard and guard till the end of the fourth. GAME
© 2004 Jonathan Roger Jonathan Roger is 16. He plays basketball since he was 8. He loves the game to death, he says, and practices for five hours every single day. His high school team went 11-1 in the league. They held on opponent just to 2 points in an entire second half defeating them 68-12. He wrote this poem when he was thinking of inspirational quotes about basketball. This is his first poem ever.
************************** The Short One by Madonna SaadThey call me the short one because I am 5"0 , but a 5"0 player who plays the games with her heart
They call me the tiny because I am short but height has nothing to do with the love of the game
They call me speedy because I am quick which gives me the opportunity to beat any one like this
Players look in surprise when asked to play one-on-one and think that this game will move them to spot number one they look up and down like this game will be a piece of cake but after they are defeated I say "height does not matter"
I am the player who plays this game with my heart and hope that some day my dreams come true
People laugh and smile when I say I will make it to the WNBA but height does not matter for the 50th time
One's heart brings one to success which hopefully will give me the opportunity to play future ball
Never judge a book by its cover because "You can't measure heart"
© 2004 Madonna Saad Madonna Saad is 16 and she has been playing basketball since she was 5. She plays for Fordson High School and a point guard. E-mail: nextwnbastar@msn.com
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Fast Break, Buzzer Beater by Brandon Wells
Feel the dribble The court beneath your feet Your chest is pounding It feels so sweet
Around your back And under your legs Avoiding your opponent Making the break
The goal in sight You drive in hard Breathing down your neck A defensive guard
You slam on the breaks And go up with a fake Pulling down the ball The guard you shake
Snapping down low You jump up high Giving the ball a toss You let the ball fly
An arc like a rainbow The shot is so pretty Not even touch the rim The snap of the net is fitting
The crowd goes wild The clock stops cold The buzzer is loud The score is told
Up by one With no time in sight The game has been won And you have the right
Humbled by your play Encouraged by the team |