Beat Ball - Day 12
I pretty much spent most of my adult years living in the Bronx. My son grew up playing Street ball wherever he could find a court. Though not a fan of watching sports, I loved all the craziness and excitement of this game.
Street ball not feet ball
The game of stolen youth
Beat ball not sweet ball
There’s nothing but raw truth
Concrete ball not backseat ball
The game of no one’s fool
Eat ball not greet ball
Where grit’s the only rule
Flair ball not square ball
The game of oohs and awes
Swear ball not care ball
A way to sharpen claws
Flare ball not air ball
The game to gain respect
Dare ball not fair ball
There’s nothing to deject
Although it’s too late to join the 100 days of poetry challenge by @d-pend if you would like to follow and support this creative venture be sure to check out the latest Update.
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Previous posts for this challenge
Day 1: The Pendulum
Day 2: Half In - Half Out
Day 3: Names Will Always Hurt Me
Day 4: Turning
Day 5: No Longer
Day 6: Equilibrium
Day 7: Entangled
Day 8: Shattered
Image Credits
Photo by Mitch Geiser on Unsplash
Photo by Austin Ban on Unsplash
Vibrant poetry of life, of the street, of valuable experiences, of the upbringing, the accompaniment of the children and of all that is learned in this crusade. It can be said that he even instructs us in the art of dunk balls and everything that surrounds that game. You connect the reader to your interest, which is to paint with words the essence of what the world that you pose involves. Good job, @firststeps. I enjoyed reading.
Oh my! This is really good and should be in the advanced section (imo). The flow is wonderful and I love the braid-in. Well done!