When quite young I loved to bowl
You had to release the ball and let it roll
The perfect game was always your goal
You had to invest your heart and soul
Bowling every day was your price or toll
Each frame was only one part of the whole
Ten frames or twelve strikes made up the whole
If I had my choice, I'd always bowl
Sometimes I'd play for money, to offset the toll
The key to good bowling is to let the ball roll
Invest everything in the game, even your soul
If you became good, a profession could be your goal
Competition is good, but being the best was my goal
On a team, five bowlers made up the whole
I thought we were the best, but I'd never tell a soul
We went to the lanes or alleys to bowl
Almost every day, and I took the roll
It never entered my mind that there would be a toll
My parents said that poor grades might be the toll
So I made straight A's as my number one goal
and I was always in class to answer the roll
If given the chance I'd spend the whole
day at the alleys, just wanting to bowl
I'd do anything to get better, except sell my soul
Bowling gave camaraderie unlike a lost soul
Giving up other sports had taken its toll
Between this and many sports, I chose to bowl
I'd rather make a strike than score a goal
Now in my life, winning a tournament was the whole
reason for the everyday practice, and I was on a roll
My advice was always don't force it, "Just let the ball roll"
Sometimes but not often, my teammates' effort lacked soul
Being the best of the five, was still being part of the whole
When the tournament started, the bell would toll
Our team effort, to end up first, was always our goal
We excelled at other sports, but now we chose to bowl
The finals were in Erie and off we did roll; we took the Thruway and paid the small toll.
To win that day I gave it my all, and yes my soul, we didn't want second place, it was never our goal.
The team won that day, with me a cog in the whole; we were given the chance and won an engraved silver bowl.
I like bowling, which is a trendy indoor game, but with each ball there goes your parent's fifty cent. Any way nice poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You are braver than me. Have you read Elizabeth Bishop's? I see you just dug in and did it. The subject choice is not bad in this one. Adeline