A follower of sport i claim to be,
apart from this, it’s so dreary.
Charging, screening illegal blocking,
a concept i thought, might fill my stocking.
I watched it once, it left me fraught,
ten lunatics, let loose on a court.
Chasing Top Cat like Officer Dibble,
what the heck’s a double dribble?
A round ball used, bounce by hand,
i wish my head was in the sand.
Can’t even run and hold the ball,
has this sport got a point at all?
One point scored if a FREE throw,
well would you PAY to have a go?
Three point line inside scores two,
it doesn’t seem that hard to do.
Three point line outside scores three,
they run around in fits of glee.
Eight second rule can not be past,
same time that this game should last!
Have you guessed this sport i call?
i bet you have it's Basketball.
A season ticket i leave for you,
The exit door, for me will do.
copyright 2009 Mark Curtis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem