It's a Lifestyle

I played basketball A LOT when I was younger, so I decided to write a poem about what it's like to be in a game and on a team. Enjoy!

Whistles screech.

Shoes squeak.

Nets swish.

Crowds scream.

This is where I belong.

I’m engulfed in the game,

from tightening my laces,

to sprinting down the court,

to the the final buzzer.

This is my life.

I focus and visualize

all of my hard work.

Endless days of

sprints, drills, plays.

Grueling practices at

the crack of dawn.

Reviewing with my dad

to improve.

It all comes down to this.

As I step on the court,

my gaze draws to the ball

like a magnet.

Mine.

The referee throws it

up in the air.

I leap like the ball

is my last breath.

It all starts now.

Sprinting.

Screaming.

Cutting.

Driving.

Shooting.

Fighting for our lives.

My team works as one.

Without each other,

we fail.

Together, success.

Nothing else matters.

Muscles on fire

by the final quarter.

Breath, water, audacity:

all needed to live.

To win.

Sweat drips down my face

like salty tears,

symbolizing my toil.

Coach’s last words.

It’s time to end this.

Every ounce of effort,

Every pound of will,

Every ton of energy,

is left on the floor.

Nothing is held back.

My fire isn’t extinguished

until the final buzzer.

This is my goal.

This is my life.

To shoot,

To score,

To win.

It’s a lifestyle.

Torn

This feeling of uncertainty

aches within my chest,

pressing down on my

                                    heart.

We should be okay,

he said we were fine.

You’re over thinking

                        everything.

Tears sting under my eyes.

Refusing to blink,

I press my lips tight

and wear a mask of

                        confidence.

Confidence in what?

Is this really worth it

                                    anymore?

I focus on my book,

reading usually helps.

Not this time.

Music.

            I can’t.

Running.

            I freeze.

I collapse on my bed

Like a helpless animal.

My hands start

            trembling.

with what? fear? insecurity?

                        I don’t know.

Those three words. I hate them.

THE three words.

            I love you.

            I can't say them.

My heart lurches and thrusts.

Warm tears flow down

my face like summer rain.

I am alone.

I will be alone.

I need to see him.

I need to know

                        for sure.

I pull myself together,

put on my mask

and jump in my car.

                        Hope.

Maybe I’m wrong.

Maybe I’m off.

Maybe we’re still strong.

I knock on his door

and walk inside.

                         I’m not.

Complacency.

            Coldness.

                        Crushed.

We both agree.

We’re done.

One With Serenity

Sunlight peeks through clouds

and dances on the tips

of blades,

green and rich as moss

in a swamp.

Vines softly touch

the stream, as if

yearning to be one

with the peaceful sea.

The constant rush of water

loosely hugs the gray rocks

while passing by,

continuing on to its journey

of greatness.

The peace is broken

like birds taking off in flight.

A rush of white rapids,

hurriedly bash and crash

against each other for freedom.

This freedom is serenity.

Peculiar insects scamper

across calm waters, under

floating crisp brown leaves.

A lizard scampers under a rock,

leaving its aqua tail exposed to

the sunlight.

As the breeze rustles the

tall pines and disturbs a

shrub's slumber,

I look up;

embracing the heat

on my flesh,

embracing the joy,

embracing nature's beauty.