Sports Poetry
Read students work
Students read and discussed sports poetry and studied word choice and diction, imagery, metaphor and simile, and detail. They also watched and participated in sports and then wrote about their experiences in an online book.
The Backyard in Summer
by Natan Nafziger (’17)
Clean cut grass spread across the yard.
The sun a blazing fireball scorching on your face. Until a gelid breeze cools you down.
The sugar and cinnamon sweet flowers.
Looking for neighbors to come and play.
Doesn’t matter what.
You’ll kick or throw the ball.
You’ll hit and run.
You’ll soar with velocity, with beautiful spin and swerve.
Quenching sweat. Throat dry as the sandy hot desert.
Bouncing on your stained green shoes.
The lawn clippings catch you when you fall.
The sunset comes.
The neighborhood parents, sleepy, call back your makeshift teammates.
The backyard is silent.
On your pillow, through the open attic window you hear crickets chirping like the softest final buzzer.
My Spikes
by Hannah Yeakey (’17)
At the tips, the gold rubbed into brown from race after race in trampled autumn leaves and mud.
The metal spikes worn down like sharp pencils, etching out murderous stick figures for months.
My laces stretched, yanked to the breaking point, pressed tight before every race.
I know exactly how to tape my feet now, so they fit in like a glove, with no blisters.
Blue, pink and gold swirl together into lines, make the puma sign, and blurs through woods, over hills.
Not looking new anymore, they’ve seen rugged races but beloved, they’ll see more.
Recess Basketball
by Sarah Leininger ('17)
Playing basketball during recess is my favorite way to unwind.
All morning in class I've been bouncing, and squirming, and twisting in my seat.
But now is my time to run, knock some people down, and let out all my energy.
We try to include everyone,
whether they’re the star on the A team or have never picked up a ball before.
The teams are never even, it sometimes gets violent,
but we try to enjoy it as much as we can.
Whether we’re shoving our butt in someone’s face
or plowing over one of the shorter teammates, we still don’t take it too seriously.
We help each other up when we fall,
almost come to tears when we knock someone down too hard
and say "I'm sorry!" about a million times,
and congratulate our opponents when they make a surprising shot.
Because in the end it doesn’t matter who wins, or who loses,
who makes the last second shot as the teacher is screaming at us to put the balls away,
or who wipes out and slams to the floor leaving a smear of skin behind.
What really matters is that we had fun, made some new friends,
and got out some extra energy so we can concentrate in our next class.