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Created:
11/19 2007
Views:
103
Category:
Anger
My Poems
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2
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The Prom Dress |
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4
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I Want To Linger: A Poetic Portrait |
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3
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Of a Heavy and Frightened Heart |
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5
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January Wind |
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4
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Post Season Thought of a Freshman |
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1
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The Carousel |
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1
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Broken Promise |
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1
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Happiness |
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4
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Her Cry For Help |
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5
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In My Heart |
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2
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The Broken Heart of the Beast |
Post Season Thought of a Freshman
Post-season thought of a freshmanIn a room is where I’ll sitWith girls my age and olderThey’ll all know each otherAnd will have been best of friendsMe?I’ll have no friends hereThey ski or have a social lifeI’ll be here in this room“For what?” I askI told myself I’m going to be here to get betterTo improve my skillsTo be a strong team playerBut every time before nowI’ve watched the other girls get betterI sit, forgotten, on the side linesIt’s been the same thing over againFor the four coldest, darkest months of the yearI didn’t come then and I won’t come now to watch! Not to sit on the bench!I come even now to improve!I want to get better!I never said all I wanted in a practiceWas to waste two hours every daySix days a weekEvery week for four long, cold monthsI could be in ski clubI could have a social lifeI could spend after school with my friendsI could train for TrackBut I’ve chosen to dedicate myself for four months1/3 of the yearTo the sport that none of my friends play in.“But why?” I ask again“Why have I only gotten nods before now? And true encouragementFor girls who have quit before now?”“Why work so hard the past two years to get so little?”“Why should I risk being disrespected as a player again?”There’s only one reason I greet the hoops every yearIt’s the joy I feel on the courtI long to be on the courtWith the gym filledThe chants in the airThe running of the clockThe pure sense of instinct To take the ball and put it in the hoopTo take one for the teamI would proudly wear the sweat upon my faceThe court is where I belongFor four cold, dark monthsThe happiness of being thereAnd doing my bestI feel so deep inside my heart No discus, shot-put, or golf clubCan ever give me satisfactionAs deep and pure as the basketballIf only before nowI could have gotten the coaching I wantedSomeday I’ll play on the court forever and everBlocking shots and making themI want to play my heart outI want to be in every gameI always came to every practiceI always sweat my share of sweatI always ran until I could’ve dropped dead When other girls have said, “I’m tired”I’m the one who’s said, “I’ll rest when I’m dead”Yet many a night I’ll come home at tenOnly to have warmed-up before the gameAnd at half time And after watching a win or defeatThat I’ll never call my ownBut I had stood there on that side lineAnd I cheered my team on I encouraged themThough they had never been my friendsAnd when I came homeI’d sit down and cry For all my hard work and dedication Had thus far earned me nothingBut lectures that in no way pertained to meI’ve worked my share and maybe moreI have worked with these girls whom rarely take notice of meI try my bestBut for itI’ve Gotten Nothing
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