Sports Poems, Poetry about Sports



Moulds change.
Beholders transmute.
Stadia alters.
Copy books corrode.

Who recalls
The black dominance
Of Gary Sobers,
Love like shots,
Kapil Dev’s inswingers
That soared as swans,
Sylvan sway of
Vivian Richards,
Imran Khan’s leap
As Albatross,
And the dying earth?

Off the fields
The stars’ll be
Dissembled by clouds
All of a sudden
Age gulps them.

Who recollects


Young Suns
Throb in the net.
Spectators uproar
In their strife.

Nothing changes but change.

Let the celebration on.
Let the cheer girls foam.
Let the spicey I P L
Dazzle in the market.

The quest for drinking water
Probes the moon.
Life ends in
A maiden over.

This poem was written/submitted by sabushanmughom.

Anything Is Possible

Anything is possible, if you think it is worthwhile
If you’re willing to go the distance, to go the extra mile.
With determination and effort, you can often achieve more
Because you don’t always get what you wish, but what you work for.
Dreams can become challenging, but no matter what the cost
Strive to complete the task before you, and you’ll never end up lost.
So bring with you your goals, and leave your doubts behind
Whether you think you can or can’t, you certainly will find
You’ll be right either way–so never quit, and this is why:
You’ll never become a failure, until you fail to try.

By: Melissa Underwood


Strike one, strike two, strike three and you’re out,
but that’s ok kiddo there’s no need to pout.
oh please oh please stop your moaning,
I don’t want to end up like a coach always groaning.
You don’t have to worry there is a next time,
It’s not like baseball is a major crime.
If you want to practice at 12:00 o’ clock,
I will have to meet you at the seventh block.
Practice makes perfect so you better not stop,
Only if you get pulled over by an unusual cop.
That doesn’t seem so likely to happen,
As long as you don’t stop and have a nappen.
Well now lets begin the fun for today,
Remember to practice and not run away.
I believe in you that you will do good,
But if you don’t I know that you could.

By: Jennifer Nixon


I can hear the cries of the crowd
High up in the stands.
Flesh against steel, the bat is now
An extension of my hands

The sun beats down from up above
Heat waves rise off clay.
The weather knows it, as I do
That it is time to play.

The pitcher glares from under brim
The catcher shifts his feet.
To hurl a sphere of white-hot flame
Into the summer’s heat.

The first pitch soars right past me
I know that’s not my hit.
Behind my dust explodes from
Inside the catchers mitt.

Perfect pitch is soon to come
This I know is true
For flame and bat shall yet collide
And ball will fly to blue.

Another pitch is catapulted
Here in this baseball rapture.
Crack of the bat is something
No Kodak can capture.

The dirt beneath my shoes, I hear
But to the cheers I yield
For this is between two beings
Myself and my field.

Around the diamond, I do fly
A creature of infinite fate
No infielder shall stop me ’till
I slide across home plate.

The grass is mine, the fence is mine
I’m labeled by no stat.
But outfielders will quiver
When I step up to bat.

This poem was written/submitted by Mandy.


It is not only your ego at stake.
This game is a metaphor for truth,
no habits, no fear.
Talent has many ways,
but few are the clean paths to beauty.
Do not underestimate scars.
Losing games you start losing life.
This world will not be new forever,
and a taste of truth may carry disillusion.
Overcome it and that´s victory.

This poem was written/submitted by Mandy.


You don’t always have to be in the lead…
If you have the heart to come from behind.
Don’t give up hope, don’t doubt yourself,
And a new strength is what you’ll find.
The spirit of competition, the desire to succeed
will always be important for life.
So give your all, everything you’ve got,
No matter the occasion, through pain and strife.
So step up to the plate, enter the race,
Never be afraid to take your turn.
Because winners are people who just never quit,
And this is a life lesson we all will learn.

By: Melissa Underwood


Subconsciously, I bend my knees
Allowing my body to come closer to the dirt.
The cheering has ceased to a halt.
The field is surrounded by a blanket of silence.

I lift my head to see the pitcher snap her wrist,
Releasing the yellow ball into the air’s open arms.
The ball is accepted in a matter of seconds
And is carried along the waves of the atmosphere.

A surge of butterflies arise,
And flutter their wings as they fly through my body.
Surprised and anxious, I suck in a sudden breath
Of freshness; a present given by the surrounding trees.

My feet grip the earth’s surface
As the ball glides to meet the bat.
I can hear the ball separating the oxygen that stands in its path,
As it sails on the wind’s current.

The silence is interrupted by a loud crack,
With loud whoops and screams following.
Millions of thoughts, plays, and ideas go through my head

As a bright, circular object whips through the air, making it’s journey toward me.
I raise the glove placed on my hand,
Out of fear or instinct to play the game, I am not sure.
As the ball collides with with the embrace of my glove, I ask, “What next?”
Only to answer my question with a simple action I’d rehearsed repeatedly.

This poem was written/submitted by Ali Marie.


No matter the weather,
No matter the pain,
The kick always starts the game,
The team runs it back as far as they can
And the opposing team must defend
Run or pass you don’t want to finish last.
Four fifteen minute quarter to decide the winner.
Practice is the key to a successful team
Playoffs are where they want to be.
The looser goes home empty handed
And the winner moves on.
With the Super Bowl in view
The lucky few will take home all the glory.
And that’s the end of my story.

This poem was written/submitted by Aaron Toner.

Game Over

You try to take the best of me
i used to allow it
but not anymore
go away
i wanna be in a better place
i hate when you say you don; t understand
i hate living surrounded by unhappiness and evil
i wanna be with the good energy
not with the enemy
i am sick of the tension
sick of the hate
sick of the anger
i am sick of you
so just please
go away
find another to play your little games with
for i am finished
game over .

This poem was written/submitted by Mandy.

Golf by Gary Ley

Gentleman Only, Ladies Forbidden,
that’s how some see GOLF is written.
Yet for the majority of the rest of us
it’s not at all that way ,no need to fuss,
as this was the olden days in the past
it’s well and truly over, at long last.
Now golfers range from girls and boys
men & women including those old boys.
Modern GOLF is much more democratic
i.e Great Obsession Loved by a Fanatic
which suits me down to a tee of course,
so see you all down at the golf course.

This poem was written/submitted by Gary Ley.

Page 1 of 3123