Related quotes: Kicking a small piece of...

Those were the days...! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

Kicking a small piece of broken earthen pot,
While playing on the roadside, hop scotch.
Or dribbling a ball and throwing it at a team mate.
Screaming as I fell, skidding on the roller skates.

Playing marbles with my kid brother, ten years old
Aiming at queen of carom board with one eye closed.
Trying my hand at basketball, hockey and table tennis.
One day, a bunch of us stormed into YMCA premises.

As there was no club exclusively for girls, back then.
Sir, we said politely you have to treat us at par with men.
Please be kind enough to give us forms for membership.
You are a sportsman, so how about some sportsmanship.

Next day, after submitting our forms, we were in the hall.
Awkwardly aiming and trying to strike a billiard’s ball.
It was so good in my country back then, now I see.
We knew no fear; felt so young, joyous and carefree.

Its still not bad, as I see my daughter go through her day.
She has lots of fun, makes choices in an assertive way.
Oh, my heart cries for the women in far off Afghanistan.
Will they ever, ever, ever again see the light of dawn...

poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

May Day

Will you go a-maying, a-maying, a-maying,
Come and be my Queen of May and pluck the may with me?
The fields are full of daisy buds and new lambs playing,
The bird is on the nest, dear, the blossom's on the tree.'

'If I go with you, if I go a-maying,
To be your Queen and wear my crown this May-day bright,
Hand in hand straying, it must be only playing,
And playtime ends at sunset, and then good-night.

'For I have heard of maidens who laughed and went a-maying,
Went out queens and lost their crowns and came back slaves.
I will be no young man's slave, submitting and obeying,
Bearing chains as those did, even to their graves.'

'If you come a-maying, a-straying, a-playing,
We will pluck the little flowers, enough for you and me;
And when the day dies, end our one day's playing,
Give a kiss and take a kiss and go home free.'

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Phone Gift

Cedric gave you a photograph
in the playground
making sure no one

was looking his way first
Christina said to give you this
he said

you took the photograph
and gazed at a picture
of a girl laughing

with dark hair
looking at the camera
in mid pose

thanks
you said
putting the photo

in the inside pocket
of your jacket
she said she'd meet you

on the playing field lunchtime
Cedric informed
unimpressed

ok thanks
you said
to Cedric's departing back

at lunchtime
after eating your sandwiches
and fruitcake

your mother had made
and the watered-down juice
you went to the playing field

and looked for Christina
amongst the hordes
of boys and girls

basking in the sun
or playing ball
then hands covered your eyes

and a voice said
guess who?
you said

Marilyn Monroe?
the hands left your eyes
and Christina said

no it's me
and she stood there
her eyes almost feeling you

as they moved over you
did you get my photo?
she asked

yes it's in my pocket
you said
don't show it to others

she said
I'll keep it under my pillow
you said

I sneaked it out
while no one was looking
this morning

she informed
I'll be for it
if they find out

she said
when was it taken?
you asked

last summer
she said
when I was 12

you don't look 12
in the photo
you said

do I look 13 now?
she asked
she grabbed your hand

and walked you across
the playing field
not waiting

for your reply
you wondered if Goldfinch
or Rolland were watching

while kicking ball
Goldfinch said girls
were an alien race

and best steered clear of
at best ignored
she stopped on the edge

of the playing field
where a small woods
formed the boundary of the field

and looking back
towards the school
some distance away

she whispered in your ear
you'll see just how 13 I am
in that woods one day

and you gave a sigh
noticing big puffy clouds
in a bright blue sky.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pinball Wizard

Local lad:
Ever since I was a young boy,
Ive played the silver ball.
Ever since I was a young boy,
>from soho down to brighton
Ive played the silver ball.
I must have played them all.
]from soho down to brighton
But I aint seen nothing like him
I must have played them all.
In any amusement hall...
But I aint seen nothing like him
That deaf dumb and blind kid
In any amusement hall...
Sure plays a mean pin ball !
That deaf dumb and blind kid
Sure plays a mean pin ball !
He stands like a statue,
Becomes part of the machine.
He stands like a statue,
Feeling all the bumpers
Becomes part of the machine.
Always playing clean.
Feeling all the bumpers
He plays by intuition,
Always playing clean.
The digit counters fall.
He plays by intuition,
That deaf dumb and blind kid
The digit counters fall.
Sure plays a mean pin ball !
That deaf dumb and blind kid
Sure plays a mean pin ball !
Hes a pin ball wizard
There has got to be a twist.
Hes a pin ball wizard
A pin ball wizard,
There has got to be a twist.
Sgot such a supple wrist.
A pin ball wizard,
Sgot such a supple wrist.
how do you think he does it? I dont know!
What makes him so good?
how do you think he does it? I dont know!
What makes him so good?
He aint got no distractions
Cant hear those buzzers and bells,
He aint got no distractions
Dont see lights a flashin
Cant hear those buzzers and bells,
Plays by sense of smell.
Dont see lights a flashin
Always has a replay,
Plays by sense of smell.
n never tilts at all...
Always has a replay,
That deaf dumb and blind kid
n never tilts at all...
Sure plays a mean pin ball.
That deaf dumb and blind kid
Sure plays a mean pin ball.
I thought I was
The bally table king.
I thought I was
But I just handed
The bally table king.
My pin ball crown to him.
But I just handed
My pin ball crown to him.
Even on my favorite table
He can beat my best.
Even my usual table
His disciples lead him in
He can beat my best.
And he just does the rest.
His disciples lead him in
Hes got crazy flipper fingers
And he just does the rest.
Never seen him fall...
Hes got crazy flipper fingers
That deaf dumb and blind kind
Never seen him fall...
Sure plays a mean pin ball.!!!!!
That deaf dumb and blind kind
Sure plays a mean pin ball.!!!!!

song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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Best Of The Best

Belfast born with magic feet,
Playing ball on cobbled street.
Something with him dwelt,
Something special he felt.

Spotted playing about,
By a Man'U scout.
Telegram was sent,
'I think I've found a genius', it went.

Fifteen years of age,
On the threshold of the national stage.
On his seventeenth birthday,
For the first team, he was to play.

Rave after rave review,
Of his debut.
Slight of frame,
Didn't hinder his game.
Flashes of his lightening speed,
Yes with the ball, at times greed.
The crowds he would enthral,
Extraordinary feats with the ball.

For years he excited terraces,
Putting smiles on faces.
He left a lasting legacy,
'Best player in the World', said no other than‘Pele'.

01/09/92 GUY LIPMORE.

poem by Guy Lipmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cory B

I love my little brother he

was there for all my struggle

we had so me many ups and

down I love my little brother

we never separate from each other

as we walk shoulder to shoulder

I got his back he has mine he's

all I need to defend whats ours

I love my little brother now we

getting older we start to understand

one another better you remember

how was use to be geeked to go to the

park and ball hard now look at you playing

with them books and ball I love my little

brother but he's not little anymore

he turned into man I remember I

use to hold his hands now I putting

money in his hands I love my little

brother he aint gotta worry about

no trouble coming his way cause

he troubles are my trouble and my

hustle is his hustle I love my little

brother so think twice about fucking

with my little brother and remember

he gotta big brother that love him like

a pair of jay's I swear I love my little

brother just look at HIM in school living out

a dream I use to dream playing ball

and staying up late studying with his

back up against the wall wondering where

the next dollar coming for shit just call

your big brother cause I love you little

brother and I got ya little nigga so he'll

never miss a fresh pair of jay's or af1's

'and I'll come up to Parkside to beat a nigga

ass lol but true' I love my brother

poem by Randy Bullocks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That's the awesome part. Little girls now have a chance to look up and see women playing soccer, basketball, softball and now hockey - and know they can win a gold medal, too.

quote by Angela Ruggiero
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snowballs

If I could borrow from the future
And Id spend it with you, darling, in a very special
Id treat you to a sundae on a saturday afternoon
And wed spend the night together throwing snowballs at the moon
Wed be aiming high and wed be aiming low,
Winding up together, lord, and lettin them snowballs go
And after every throw wed share a little kiss
Make sweet love together every time wed miss
Oh Id like to meet the artist who painted up the sky
And Id ask him what that color was he brushed against your eyes
And could he paint a picture of two lovers in one balloon
Who go flying off together to throw snowballs at the moon
Wed be aiming high, wed be aiming low
Winding up together, lord and letting them snowballs go
And after every throw wed share a little kiss
Make sweet love together everytime wed miss
If we could stop the world from spinning take it nice and slow I bet that we could hit once just before we go
But we keep aiming high, we keep aiming low chorus

song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Perspective

dust on my feet on my rubber shoes
stamp a mound of mud drying itself
the afternoon sun so hot
this little boy follows me with his gaze
did I appear so big to his attention
or the world is too small for him to play ball?

we look amazed to the same birds
too playing in the skies chasing the ones
not having the same feathers

the sun sets spreading orange colors
waning and now sprinkles some gray hues
the boys playing basketball sweat like they
were bathing on the rain, their bodies gleaming
like some barbecue on spiced oil

time to go home, it is dark, I have no reason to stay
the little boy follows me towards the road
where the fluorescent light is turned on by the guards

then I look back, the boy was gone
the whole block is lost eaten by this night
and on the island of light on this road
I stand, waiting for my ride back home

then I look back again, I smile a while
that little boy was me, I got lost somehow

I touch my head, I am setting a new perspective

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem After A Walk This Afternoon

dust on my feet on my rubber shoes
stamp a mound of mud drying itself
the afternoon sun so hot
this little boy follows me with his gaze
did i appear so big to his attention
or the world is too small for him to play ball?

we look amazed to the same birds
too playing in the skies chasing the ones
not having the same feathers

time to go home, it is dark, i have no reason to stay
the little boy follows me towards the road
where the flourescent light is turned on by the guards

then i look back, the boy was gone
the whole block is lost eaten by this night
and on the island of light on this road
i stand, waiting for my ride back home

then i look back again, i smile a while
that little boy was me, i got lost somehow

i touch my head, i am setting a new perspective

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman And Her Spring Child

spring has come
spring has come
she has blossomed in the trees
she has blossomed in the trees
the trees are leafing
the trees are leafing
slowly slowly
slightly slightly
everthing is greening
everything is greening
also grinning and grinning
flowers lflower in many colors
flowers flower in many colors
birds are singing gaily
birds are singing gaily
dogs are barking happy
dogs are barking happy
my mother in her grave
my mother in her grave
still waiting me come
still waiting to come
ı do not know where my father lie
ı do not know where my father lie
but the spring made me numb
but the spring made me numb
everybody is in the outdoors
everybody is in the outdoors
a woman is kicking a ball
a balll is kicked by a woman
she is really playing with her
one year old child boy
she is playing like a toy
a beautiful boy
with long hair
dark curly dark hair
trying to step into the spring
trying to step into the spring
the woman is kicking her troubles away
with the ball
the woman is really shooting her troubles
away with the ball
she is very fond of it
very very
kicks the ball again
kicks the ball again
the ball goes very far away
the balll goes very far away
nobody kicks the ball back to her
nobody kicks the ball back to her
the woman looks at her child
the woman looks at her child
nobody kicks the ball back to her
nobody kicks the ball back to her
cause everybody is not a poet
cause everybody is not a poet
the spring has come
the spring has come
blossoming in the trees
blossoming in the trees
but yet
nobody is ready to play
even a ball
the woman
never the less
with her spring child
tries to play
but nobody
kicks the ball back to her
and to the child
his first steps in the springhold

poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Look At Me Now

Tennis ball and a catcher's mitt
I remember that boy throwing it
High up in the air then catching it
While the oak tree leaves cheered
Oh,look at me now All grown up looking back again
Sitting here wondering where the time all went
What do I know now that I didn't know then
Not much
Oh, look at me know,
On the fifty-first floor looking down on it all
With my name on the door and degree on the wall
Yeah, Look at me now
(Chorus)
I did everything right, but I got it all wrong
Heaven please forgive me for taking so long
You see, all that I've done it doesn't matter at all
It's what I leave here when I'm gone
Oh, look at me now
Where is that young boy I used to be
Who was never afraid of anything
Now I'm watching that clock catch up with me
And it's frightening
(Chorus)
Oh, Look at me now
All grown up looking back again
Sitting here wondering where the time all went
What do I know now that I didn't know then
Tennis ball and a catcher's mitt
I remember that boy throwing it
High up in the air then catching it
While the oak trees cheered
(Chords)

song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loaded Dice

By dickey betts and warren haynes
(c) 1990 cbs records, inc.
Transcribed by matt dickie
Pocket full of money
Got a big smile all on my face
Boy and I can charm the diamonds
Right off the back of a rattlesnake
But youve got me so confused
Cut me cold as ice
I aint used to losing
Guess Im playing with loaded dice
Well the first time that I saw you
Said youd just dumped your old man
Then the next time you was dealin
Must have dealt me a losing hand
Woman I tried to win your love
Just cant pay the price
Keep throwing in sevens
I keep on playing with loaded dice
Well I thought I was a hustler
But you sent me back to school
Keep playing some new game
Making up your own rules
Must be some kind of crazy
Let you fool me twice
I dont know why
I keep playing with loaded dice
Well, tonight I hit the jackpot
I was shining like a diamond ring
Lady luck was smiling
And the old snake charmer was doing his thing
You saw the tables turn
Man it sure felt nice
Now we see whos laughing
Now we see whos playing with the loaded dice
Girl you aint like nothing
Ive ever seen before
Keep throwing in aces
I keep coming back for more
Guess I should have listened
But you cant give a fool advice
Dont know why I keep playing with loaded dice.

song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Difference

i stared out the window
at the bare frozen limbs
of my favorite old tree...
i closed my eyes...
saw leaves bud forth
and turn green...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i stared at the young girl
reading at a corner table
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old grandmother
washing dishes with her grandbabies
playing in the floor at her feet...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw the young man
carrying his son on his shoulders
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old man standing
by his son's casket
draped by a flag...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw an old man
standing on the corner begging
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy
playing ball in the street
laughing and dodging cars
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a crack head shivering
by an electric heater in a bare apartment
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young a/g student
helping some kid with his math
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a desperate girl
walking the streets
looking for a john
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young girl's room
stuffed animals on the bed
pictures of her and her daddy on the wall
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a young man
wild-eyed with fear
in a prison cell
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy gone hunting
with his grandpa on thanksgiving morn
with his dog by his side
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i pulled back the veil of time...
knowing, there is no difference!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Alphabet poem - Sport

Air Ball!
Backflip
Cartwheel
Dancing
Equestria n
Flying
Gymnastics
Hockey
Ice Hockey
Javilan
Kicking
Long Jump
Manager
Nailed
Olympics
Practise
Quick
Running
Soccer
Tickets
Unco ordinated
Volleyball
Wet
XXXX bitter
Your Team
Zetland Magpies

poem by Daniel Sokol
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My entire life has been an attempt to get back to the kind of feelings you have on a field. The sense of brotherhood, the esprit de corps, the focus - there being no past or future, just the ball. As trite as it sounds, I was happiest playing ball.

quote by David Duchovny
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad of Bopard Defied

As I came to a playing-field on happy summer day
Two strudy youths I did espy; at cricket they did play.
One had the ball, one had the bat, and, with a right good smack,
As one tossed up the crimson sphere, the other smote it back.
Now, as I reached the bowler's end, I saw the young man quail;
His hand they shook, his knees went crook, his face was ashen pale;
Then, with a gulty kind of look, he cast the ball away,
And in a weak and trembling voice these words to me did say:
(In a tearful, pleading voice, with plenty of temolo and shivering grass.)

'Don't tell them that you saw me,
Or that I misbehaved.
Their methods over-aw me;
But I would not be enslaved.
I love my freeders, msiter, as much as any man;
But, oh, I love my bit of cricket, too.
And I dearly love to bowl,
But the great Board of Control,
They would chain me to their chariot if they knoo.'
(Adopt severe judicial manner, frowning darkly.)

'Young man,' I said, 'it grieves me this state of things to find,
For it is all too clear to me you have the crim'nal mind.
Thus to play without a licence and the noble Board defy
Is very reprehensible. 'Tut, tut!' I said, 'Fie, fie!'
With salt tears streaming from his eyes, he bowed his head in shame.
'Come, come,' I said, 'there's hope for you. Buck up and play the game.'
Then I eyed the other stripling; but, much to my dismay,
In tones most ungrammatical these words I heard him say: -
(In ringing, defiant accents, full of roughneck pride.)

'Go tell them that you seen me;
Go bowl it in their ear.
But no Board won't come between me
An' the game I 'old so dear,
I don't want to go to Indier or England with no team,
Fair Ostral-i-ar is good enough fur me!
I will never sell me soul
To no crool Board of Control;
For me favorite game is ping-pong, an' I'm free!'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.

poem by Alex Nodopaka
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Eleven rules of football

I took my little boy
to a nearby football pitch
He said he was tired
of playing hide and seek
He now wanted a football
to play around and kick

As he clutched my hand
I spoke to him
and tried to make him understand
the eleven rules of football
taking into consideration
that he was quite small

Now rule number one
Football is made of eleven strong men
When one or two are naughty
you may still get away
with playing nine or ten

Rule number two
When a member of your crew
hits the ball into the net
A goal is scored
that I can place a bet
For I am very sure

Rule number three
The maximum number of players
you can substitute is three
It does not cost a dime
It is totally free

Rule number four
There are rules you must comply with
When a team commits an offense
named a foul
before the game can commence
A small advantage has to be given
to the otherside

Rule number five
A freekick
is given after a foul
Sometimes awarded after
unnecessary dives

Rule number six
When you are shown a card that is yellow
Its time for your temper to mellow
or you will get the referee quite mad
and he will dismiss you with a red card

Rule number seven
A penality is like heaven
It is awarded
when a player breaks the rule
maybe by using his hand as a tool
to play the ball inside the penalty box
its time for him to go back to school

Rule number eight
A thrownin
Is when the ball is kicked out of the field
It's one of footballs favorite sins

Rule number nine
Offside is
When you are the only one running
alone to score a winning goal
you must hesitate
till you see a single soul

Rule number ten
A game lasts
for ninety minutes
You are beat
When your team has less goals than the other
That is when you must admit defeat

Rule number eleven
when your team is losing
you have to sing something amusing
saying
All we want is a goal
While we are dressed in coloured charcoal

Now my little boy
I said
These are the eleven rules of football
lets go and practise inside the sports hall

poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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