The pocket;
Brilliantly webbed nylon mesh.
Waiting for the hard rubber ball
to willingly return to its home.
The shaft;
Gently shaped aluminum.
Waiting for it’s sole owners grasp.
Fierce hands held together with honor,
with pride.
A warriors hands.
A field full of champions.
Team uniforms in sync.
Opponents appearances so different.
Mindsets so alike.
Intentions of victory, glory, superiority.
Adrenaline:
Moonless liquid.
Replacing my naturally flowing blood stream.
Powerful molten running through my veins.
Pumping my heart, controlling my brain.
A puppet:
Strings being pulled by a thunderous drum beat-
My heart:
A boulder at full tilt,
rolling down the potholed road.
My body, cast under a spell.
Insides booming from the pounding boulder.
Opposed by a stable outer layer.
Keen eyes, Steady hands.
One foot in front of the other,
An army of warriors saunter to the field
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem