I was the kid who always liked to take the ball down to the school even in my free time, kick it against the wall, juggle it in the front yard and so it was kind of a perpetual state of playing soccer for me.
quote by Brandi Chastain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
So along with that is spending a lot of time with the ball. For me it was, I loved to juggle the ball in my front yard, and I always challenged myself - how many juggles can I get today? I think for players to get better, it's just about spending the time.
quote by Brandi Chastain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look At The State Of You!
Jumpers down for goalposts
using a plastic ball
playing out in all weather
only stopping at nightfall.
No replica kits on display
No gloves on our hands
No rings or earrings
No girlie Alice Bands.
Covered from head to toe in mud
getting dark score fifteen all
cuts and bruises no shin pads
playing on with punctured ball.
I nod home the winning goal
and we'll all be back next day
'look at the state of you ' shouts Mum
Dad smiles, that'show he used to play.
Back then there wasn't much health and safety
And we weren't ruled by a nanny state
we just had lots of fun playing soccer
which to us football mad lads was great!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shooting Hoops
When the school lets out and the shifts are done
Get the boys together get a ball get a run
Lace up the sneaks kick off them shoes
Ill admit I play to win yo cause I dont like to lose
At seger park theyve got the best competition
Good moves baby - Im the definition
They shooting hoops
Yeah yeah yeah
They playing basketball
I learned at old pine, see Im the school yard hustler
I had my hardknocks now Im an off the backboard buster
I could fake to the left penetrate like mike
Or 360 in the air as dominique might
I could pass like magic
I could shoot like the bird, after a doctor j dunk
The courtside drunk said good lord
They shooting hoops
Yeah yeah yeah
They playing basketball
Lunch from a hot dog stand a pretzel and a pop
Weve been playing all day cause weve had this court non stop
The city sun is hot - all the courts they steaming
Bright eyed yong ball handlers are believing and dreaming
Hoping some day all this playing will be paying
Thats what all the sideline junkies smoking reefer keep saying
They shooting hoops
Yeah yeah yeah
They playing basketball
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why I Feel I Want To DIE
It all started when I first saw her.After awile I asked her out she said yes I was so happy.What drove me to ask her was her smile her laugh her beautiful brown eyes and her voice.We dated for two weeks then one day at school i bought her a dog then she said'I have to call you'.I said'why not text me'.She said'I going to break up with you.'I was devastated I through the dog on the roof.I cried for days I still cry and I have to she her every day.I get my anger out by pretending the soccer ball is who she is dating and I kick it as hard as I can.I do the same thing with the baseball it has a crack in it I hit it as hard as i can.When were playing dodge ball I do the same thing.But still I am depressed and hopeless
p.s. i know its not a poem its what drove me to write poems
poem by Mistery Mistery
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Kick, Kick, Kick.
When hurt kick,
When lonely kick,
When embaressed kick,
When happy kick,
When sad kick,
When nervous kick,
When laughing kick,
When crying kick,
When sick kick,
When playing kick,
When dead kick...
If you can!
I mean, what are those feet for?
Kick, kick, kick...
If you still can!
poem by Azeem AbdulRahim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Beautiful Game (soccer)
I love you more than my old soccer cleats,
The ones I’ll never give up.
I love you more than the perfect field,
The one I use to warm up.
I love you more than my soccer ball,
The one that’s perfect for amazing passes.
I love you more than me running along those different types of grasses.
I love you more than the cheering crowds,
The stands made out of plaster.
I love you more than that perfect kick,
That I have yet to master.
I love you more than my soccer cleats the ones that hold all reason.
I love you more than my coach, my soccer team and my season.
I love you more than winning that world cup,
That we have yet to reclaim.
I can’t believe I love you more than the beautiful game.
For Ball
At home
my dog and child
play the foot ball
Dog kick the ball
Clild also kick
Ball was...
Run to run...
Suddnley dog
Bite the ball
The ball was blast...
Chil was cry
Dog was wow...wow...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Playing on the Playground
Everyone plays in groups,
They run across the playground.
Playing football or soccer and,
Maybe even basketball.
Girls running around chasing boys
And here's me playing soccer or me,
playing alone. Maybe always alone.
poem by Sengthida Lorvan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kick Me...Again
KIck me again
And watch me deflate-
A once new soccer ball
Promised fair play,
But stomped on, defaced,
And crushed out of shape-
Just kick me again
And watch me deflate.
(052704)
These Knees
oh if i had the knees of a athlete
I'll tell you what i would do.
i would jump around all day
till everyone did it too!
If my knees worked
i would run and run
people would think I'm crazy
but i would have Fun!
Soccer my favorite sport.
i would kick the ball
and chase it too!
I wouldnt feel it at all!
but with these Knees
i can not do the things that i desire
running jumping playing are off limits
oh how i wish i could not tire.
but with these knees
i can still walk
so if i can't be thankful
i should not talk.
poem by S.M. Riggin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Made Okay To Do It Your Way
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.
You complained,
That you couldn't take the weight.
And a waiting too late makes it okay.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Liberia Plays Soccer
When Beckham kicks the ball on a
soccer pitch in England, it
breaks through the opponent’s
defense and slams into the goal post.
It then continues over the heads of the
cheering spectators, over miles of oceans
and seas, and countries, and lands at the
feet of soccer-crazed Liberian men, who
immediately kick that same ball, again and
again, into that very goal post, in their living
rooms, in posh sport lounges, in hot, smelly
video clubs, around the ataye* tables, on the
buses, on the sidewalks. They keep kicking
that ball until somewhere in Europe, Drogba
kicks a different ball, into another goal post.
Then, Drogba’s ball comes to Liberia and the kicking begins anew.
*ataye – a hot drink, popular with Liberian males. The ataye tables have grown into informal political and social forums.
poem by Charlina Daitouah Smith
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Flamengo Team! ! !
i am a little dizzy
little muddled
with the force of your impact
you kick the ball to me
and do your goal
1 X0
I run by green field
to hold the white ball, firmly
you kick in a dishonest way
you are the top scorer
what a stroke!
2X0
I try to spare me
and move quickly towards back
my place is not safe
a direct free kick
green and black of his shirt vibrates
3x0
but i am Flamengo
my colours are black and red
and never surrender run on my blood
My nation is rubro-negra
and certainly is not end this football game
First Time, friend! ! ! ! !
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Black Forest
Welcome to the winter soccer in South Africa,
With 'Vuvuzelas' to great you all over in the 'Black Forest'!
For the muse of the African is now noted by all.
To the slums of Cape Town,
Believe in yourself and kick the ball!
For our story is now to the world.
Do your best no matter what,
For the winter soccer went with the hand gloves!
And of the noise from the 'Vuvuzelas' to respect at last,
For that was part of the game.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don’t know if God plays ball
I don’t know if God plays ball
soccer or foosball or bacci ball.
Well, I’m a Frenchman and
boules is the name of my game.
Being on the ball is like playing
with Gigi little girls. When God
created Eve I wonder did He
have in mind dirty old men
and did He mean putting man
behind the eight ball
and did He know that eons later
round the corner of the square ball
someone hooks up with
a hooded guy who sells 3.5 grams
of meth and coke and damn,
that 8 ball is already gone!
I wish I had another!
I start singin’ a tune, I don't drink
brass monkey, like to be funky
and my name ain’t Eazy-E
your 8 ball junkie.
We did an eight ball of blow and
danced until next morning.
I ain’t never goin’ out
With an eight-ball Chiquita
Cuz I got balls and I ain’t
givin’ her mine and
she ain’t playin’ with mine.
I wish God had more balls
and my brain marinate
in mothballs.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Aug©2010
AD Something
poem by Alex Nodopaka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0021 Football's new rules
I guess you read the news
about the town – soon to be copied –
which abolished traffic lights...
what happened? Self-preservation,
care, and courtesy have won the day..
while the soccer news this weekend was
that everybody blames the referee..
who’s after all, just the traffic-lights to this game..
suppose we tried the same daring system on the soccer field..
any player who makes a bad tackle
or an inadvertent trip (deliberate ones
would disappear as a mark of shame)
to apologise politely and offer
a free kick to the other side..
the player who kicks the ball into touch
immediately hands the ball to the other side
or at the very least, runs away – both sides
always knowing very well who touched it last..
shirt-pulling and diving would be
such matters of shame that the player’s
own side would stop playing and remain
rooted to the spot until
the culprit offered a free kick..
and any really doubtful events would be referred
to the television cameras for a quick decision;
and all the players might just feel the urge
to applaud and clap a tricky moment fairly resolved?
and at the end of the match,
the players would line up and just like
an international does at the beginning,
shake hands down the line…
while the managers would meet symbolically at centre-pitch,
shake hands publicly on a game cleanly fought,
and even – full on camera – look each other
in the eye..
and we the supporters would feel damn proud
that sport was sport once again, that
football was and is the life-blood of the nation,
and if not more important than life and death
at least a happy occasion of skills enjoyed..
and that, win or lose, chivalry and
the game’s the thing..
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kick Off Ball
Kick off ball,
Kick the ball to win the game!
But, with fair play.
Player,
Lyricist,
Arranger,
Keeper,
Composer,
Winner! !
But it was only yesterday that i found you;
And like the game ball in the land of your muse.
Face to face,
Again and again!
But pay and take it;
And, play the match to win the game! !
Play the ball,
Kick the ball,
And like the African Cup of Nations!
Race, ace, face, brace, mace, place, lace;
But words are things upon a thought,
And like something long lost! !
However, play the ball into the net to win the game.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Do I Feel Again This Day
Do I feel again
This day that is ending?
Do I have the urgency to go to sleep?
Do I need to stay up until my alarm rings for me to take my pills?
Do I feel again
The need to kick the fruit that had fallen in the ground at the supermarket By playing soccer?
Yes it helps to pass the time
And I have fun at the same time
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soccer
Soccer is the game
My life
Soccer gives my fame
it gives my life
Soccer is what make me live
soccer is what makes me give
soccer is the start of it all
soccer is way better then the mall
poem by Courtney Sycowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Over The Wall
Verse 1:
We can play it safe
For awhile
If we can
But will that make me a better girl,
You a better man?
I trust myself
And thats all I can do
Dont you see the world is alive and
Right in front of you...
Chorus:
Over the wall
There is a new world waiting
Over the wall
I want to find out something more
Over the wall
I cannot wait to find it
Over the wall is where I want to be
Come take my hand and
We can be free
Verse 2:
Fear of the unknown
Is unhealthy to the soul
But it eats you up inside
If you dont have a higher goal
You see no light
On the dark side of the sun
What do you think about when
Everyday is over and done?
Chorus
Bridge:
And when the darkness comes
Youll still have a long road
In front of you
And when you cry out
All the world will be around (world will be around)
It wont be easy
But it will have greater rewards
Mountains and valleys
Are better than nothing at all...
Chorus
Chorus
Over the wall
There is a new world - oh...
Over the wall
I want to find out something more
Over the wall
I cannot wait to find it
Over the wall is where I want to be
Come take my hand
Dontcha know it, we can be free
Over the wall
Over the wall
Over the wall
I cannot wait to find it...
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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