For the Love of the Game

I walk into the arena
familiar surroundings all around me
I lace 'em up
and walk out with a ball in my hand

The court looks the same
The bull in the middle
Puttin' up shots
Getting ready for the big game

The buzzer sounds
and so it begins
I'm ready to reset
I let one fly
Nothing but net

I can feel the hate
As I walk off to a win
I've been bound to a fate
That comes with sins

I don't play for the money
nor for the fame
I play for the love of the game
Every second matters,
Basketball

Another poem from the Poetry Soireé

Poetry Soireé

Below is one of my many constructed Poems. This specific one is called a Narrative poem. For more please check out Mr. Cheney's blog entry titled "Rebound Poetry"


Magical Material By: Hassan Ibrahim
T'was the eve of Christmas
Not a spectacle of snow was to be seen
Oh what I wouldn't give to
Catch a whiff of the magical substance

I awoke with a start
Glancing towards the lancet
Dropping from the heavens themselves,
Handsomely illuminated by the winter sun,
Were tiny little snowflakes

The ecstatic feeling of bliss 
Could not and would not be rivaled 
Skies concealed
Snowflakes descending
On Christmas Day