一組寫給籃球的英文詩（1）

點擊↑↑↑ 藍字“詩塾”，品讀純正美好詩歌

籃球是由美國人詹姆斯·奈史密斯發明的。1891年，他在馬薩諸塞州斯普林菲爾德基督教青年會國際訓練學校任教。由於儅地盛産桃子，這裡的兒童又非常喜歡玩將球投入桃子筐的遊戯。這使他從中得到啓發，竝博採足球、曲棍球等其他球類項目的特點，創編了籃球遊戯。

100多年來，籃球運動深受世界各國人民的喜愛。籃球有了世界盃，世界錦標賽，籃球也進入了奧運會，成爲無數孩子們喜愛的運動項目。

今天，詩塾將推出十來首關於籃球的英文詩，希望大家喜愛竝閲讀。

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Basketball

by Erika Johnson

My heart races as I step on the court
Basketball my favorite sport
The whistle blows to start the game
It’s a feeling I can’t explain
My team is my family
When we work together there’s no boundaries

Pass, shoot, score
Everyone wants more
Time for defense no one gets by
Shot goes up the ball is mine
The half time buzzer blows
Into the locker room we go

Start at half it’s a tie
We need to give it our all to get by
Ten seconds left down by one
We can’t be done
I have the ball I shoot a three
The crowd stands up and cheers or me.

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Orange Girl Blues, Let’s Go Home (Basketball)

by Kewayne Wadley

I love the feeling I get when
you bounce into my hands.
Perfect posture, covered in orange.
I’ll dribble you day & night
Up the street, around the corner,
between my legs.
My heart races in anticipation
Knowing that no matter how far you bounce,
You’ll come back.
Perfect posture, covered in orange.

I’ll dribble you day & night, my orange girl.
No matter how far you bounce.
I’ll run & I’ll chase.
I’ll dribble you day & night
my orange girl.
Dribble you until I can no longer see
& it’s time to go home

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Life is Like Playing Basketball

by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan

Life is like playing basketball
dribble, run, walk, jump and shoot
play without a ball and a goal
and the game will be pointless
so keep an eye on the ball and focus on the goal
dribble, sweat, give energy and effort
and play with enthusiasm and joy.

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Basketball is more than just a game

by Anonymous

Dear Lord,

To me, basketball is more than just a game. It is an opportunity for me
to maintain my fitness, discipline myself, and learn to be part of a team.

Thank you for my teammates and coaches. Please help me to honor
them with my behavior and my work ethic.

Thank you for my family and for the ability to play this game. Please
help me to honor my parents and You as I show self control and
diligence on the court.

Thank you for health and strength. Please help me to honor Your
temple through training and conditioning.

Thank you for basketball and the free country in which I live. Please
help me to never take my blessings for granted.

Amen

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Basketball

by Eve Coleman

The squeak of sneakers
The pounding of feet
The sounds on court
Are just so sweet
The dribble of balls
And my teammate’s calls
Every cheer
Brings happiness to my car..
There are many sounds
But the one I like the best
Is probably the swish
Of the ball through the net

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The Basketball Game

by Alen Loren

The basketball swished
As the ball dived right through
It was a great shot this much is true
The buzzer let out it’s nasally laugh
The end of the quarter, the end of the half
The game did resume when the ref’s whistle barked
'Players get ready’, their interest was sparked
It was a tough game, the court became scuffed
The brooms cleaned and polished and made it all buffed
The backboard was aching, as the shots kept on coming
Despite its best efforts, the ball kept on drumming
We had so much fun, the basket was tired
And all of the players were hot and perspired

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Basketball

by Nick Schuelke

Basketball is the sport of kings,
From the toss of the jump ball
to when the buzzer rings.
In basketball you have to try your best,
Once you do you’ll beat all the rest.
If you want to win, never lose hope,
When there is a problem, learn to cope.
Take your shots with confidence,
Never with incompetence
Jump up for a rebound with all your might,
Don’t ever do it in a state of fright.
Ask for help when you’re in need,
For if you don’t, you’ll never succeed.

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Love for basketball

by Joah McLaughlin

My love for basketball is like a fire that never goes out,
Day in and day out, I’m always playing the game,
During game day I always have a route,
Everyday before the game I’m always doing the same.

It’s like a job I play at full speed,
So long as you live for it, you must play for love of the game,
During basketball you don’t always get what you need,
Growing up with basketball was the only love I tame.

One day I plan to play college ball,
Growing up i play for fun with my friends,
After the eighth grade, I grew tall,
Deep down inside i know it’s got to end,

The times when you lose aren’t fun at all,
But deep down inside you know you’ve got next fall

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One on one in basketball

by Ray Fleming

I seemed to watch myself go up
effortlessly for the basket,
and saw the ball drop through the net.
I had done it, though I could not explain it.
It was a jump-shot, and my hand flicked
at the basket. Swish! I saw hands
that were too small for the game, hands
that were unblistered, coffee-colored,
and wrinkled, and that belonged to me.
The skin around the knuckles had been broken
by a tooth or a fingernail . . . not my own,
but not really his either. Possession

is a dubious affair without resonance
in this heavy air. The body that raised
itself toward its ringed-empty goal
belonged to no one there
while it hung in the air of the gym.
The muscles, the movements of wrist,
finger, leg, and elbow were controlled,
but not by me, not by him, but by a desire
rooted in a steel hoop
beyond the innocence of our
accustomed matrix. It had nothing to do
with physiology or mysticism: only basketball.

I gave myself over to a winning and
a dropping away (he imitated me),
and reclaimed some of those movements
…momentarily. It was good

……………………………………

Basketball

by Jazmen Lemus

Basketball is round.
It spin like the Earth.
It spins around and around.
Kids play with the basketball
It’s a harm ball.
It bounce up and down.
It bounce like a cat.
It rolled off like no one owned it
All ages play with the basketball
It’s orange and black like Halloween.
It play’s all day and night to win the basketball season.
It tried not to lose one game at all.
Basketball is a fun activity to play.

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Ex-Basketball Player

by John Updike

Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot,
Bends with the trolley tracks, and stops, cut off
Before it has a chance to go two blocks,
At Colonel McComsky Plaza. Berth’s Garage
Is on the corner facing west, and there,
Most days, you’ll find Flick Webb, who helps Berth out.

Flick stands tall among the idiot pumps—
Five on a side, the old bubble-head style,
Their rubber elbows hanging loose and low.
One’s nostrils are two S’s, and his eyes
An E and O. And one is squat, without
A head at all—more of a football type.

Once Flick played for the high-school team,
the Wizards.He was good: in fact, the best. In ’46
He bucketed three hundred ninety points,
A county record still. The ball loved Flick.
I saw him rack up thirty-eight or fortyIn o
ne home game. His hands were like wild birds.

He never learned a trade, he just sells gas,
Checks oil, and changes flats. Once in a while,
As a gag, he dribbles an inner tube,
But most of us remember anyway.
His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench.
It makes no difference to the lug wrench, though.

Off work, he hangs around Mae’s Luncheonette.
Grease-gray and kind of coiled, he plays pinball,
Smokes those thin cigars, nurses lemon phosphates.
Flick seldom says a word to Mae, just nods
Beyond her face toward bright applauding tiers
Of Necco Wafers, Nibs, and Juju Beads.