Poetry Prompts

You need to complete 5 of the prompts below. Choose any 5 that you would like.

PLEASE --> Use a Thesaurus!
PLEASE --> Use and follow the example poems!
PLEASE --> Have fun with your writing!

* - The prompts marked with this * asterisk work well as being poems about the live sporting events that we've attended. I'm hoping you'll choose at least 1 of these prompts.

#1 : Your Dream Sporting Events
#2 : A Prayer for Your Team
#3 : Why Play a Sport?
#4 : All About the Ball
#5 : I Remember...
#6 : Revision! Revision!
#7 : SportsCenter Haikus
#8 : Patchwork 
#9 : Passions
#10 : The Sounds of Sport *
#11 : Playing as a Kid
#12 : "The" Poem *
#13 : Benchwarmers *
#14 : Description! Description! *
#15 : The Taste of Sport
#16 : Playing Alone
#17 : Playing Together
#18 : My Equipment and Me
#19 : Alliteration

Poetry Prompt: Playing Together

One of the joys of sports is that you get to play on a team. You make friends, you share experiences, both the joy of winning and the disappointment of defeat. Talk about the experience of being with friends and winning or losing. What do you remember about playing together?

"The Women’s Team at L. Bamberger & Co."
by Lillian Morrison

Our best forward
wasn’t very tall
but made up for it
in speed, spunk and
spring in the knees.
She could almost slam-dunk.
Proud, in our snazzy
silver shorts, maroon tops,
we ran and sweated
in those drafty gyms
(seats most empty)
somehow always playing
against bigger, rougher teams,
tough girls who shoved
and elbowed, but Maggie’s
fakes and pivots, charges
down the floor, layups,
jumpers, onehanders
would fire us up, and the
few times we did win,
the bare locker rooms,
and we showered and dressed,
rang with our rejoicing
and when we emerged, heading
for the bus, each of us
at least two inches taller,
the frosty air outside
seemed to greet us with kisses.

Poetry Prompt: My Equipment and Me

Think about (or look at) your favorite piece of sporting equipment. Maybe it is a childhood baseball glove, a tennis racket, or a worn basketball. Describe your memories of playing with that piece of equipment as well as describing the actual equipment as well. Use metaphors and similes to make the poem more interesting and meaningful. Below is one example.

"My Racket"
by Matthew Miller

The rim chipped silver, like a handful of pebbles
clattering across the concrete court.

The sun has dyed the handle the color of a late September sky,
a light blue tattered with swirling leaves, fraying at the edge.

The black plastic guard curls back,
scraped in hurry, hustle, frustration.

The neck is dappled pink and green, like a outdated home,
sitting untouched since the early 80s.

The crossing white and yellow strings wear at each other,
gut shavings peeling back from repeated friction,

absorbing the impact of a million battles, fraying
but staying, a faithful marriage.

Poetry Prompt: Playing Alone

Go to the gym by yourself, and play your favorite sport. Shoot baskets by yourself, hit a volleyball off the wall, bang a tennis ball off the wall, kick free kicks in soccer, etc. As you do these things, concentrate on the sound and the feel of the sport. What does it sound like in an empty gym to bang a ball off the wall? What does it feel like when the ball comes off the inside of your foot? Below is an example of a "playing alone" poem.

"Shooting"
by B.H. Fairchild

Dusk was best. Searching
for the perfect shot,
I’d dribble, pivot, jump,
let go, and watch the ball
float full-moon across
a darkening sky, then sink
into the strings that hugged,
then dropped it to the ground.
Far into night
I stayed, moving through
the backyard gloom, a ghost
even to myself, shooting
where I couldn’t see.
The sounds of bounce and jump
echoed from the house,
followed by the silence
of the ball’s long flight.
Going up, each time
my body felt itself
curve evenly from toe
to shoulder, through arms
and fingertips that sensed
the arc the ball would take
before the quick whisper
somewhere in the dark.

Poetry Prompt: The Taste of Sport

Grab a handful of popcorn and sit back, relax and watch a game. Sit on the couch and I'll try to pull up a sporting event for you to watch, hopefully a live event. As you watch, think about the experience, especially the taste of the popcorn and how it relates to the sport that you are watching. Here's an example of some "tasty" poetry.

"Getting a Taste for It"
by Kory Kern

The basketball is like a big
cheddar cheese ball.
It’s sides like the skin of an orange,
peeled by little black lines.
Round as a pizza, as it spins
through the air.
Speckled like the scales of a fish,
sliced and sizzling over the fire.
Every basket is a bite,
tasting of victory.

"August"
by Mary Oliver

When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is. In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.

Poetry Prompt: Description! Description!

Write a poem in the style of "Basketball" by Louis Jenkins, a prose poem that uses many details to describe the atmosphere of playing basketball outside. Use as many concrete and specific details as you can to describe the atmosphere and attitude at the game you are attending, and write it as a prose poem.

"Basketball" 

by Louis Jenkins

            

A huge summer afternoon with no sign of rain.... Elm trees
in the farmyard bend and creak in the wind. The leaves are
dry and gray. In the driveway a boy shoots a basketball at a
goal above the garage door. Wind makes shooting difficult
and time after time he chases the loose ball. He shoots, re-
bounds, turns, shoots....on into the afternoon. In the silence
between the gust of wind the only sounds are the thump of
the ball on the ground and the rattle of the bare steel rim of
the goal. The gate bangs in the wind, the dog in the yard yawns,
stretches and goes back to sleep. A film of dust covers the
water in the trough. Great clouds of dust rise from open fields
that stretch thousand miles beyond the horizon.

Poetry Prompt: Benchwarmers

Using a similar form to "Stranger" by Thomas Merton, think about what it is like to be in a spot that no one notices during a sporting event. Write a description of what the players and coaches on the bench are doing during the game, or what the lady sitting in the corner of the gym alone is thinking, or perhaps even a cheerleader or mascot who isn't paid attention to. 

"Stranger" 

by Thomas Merton

           When no one listens
            To the quiet trees
            When no one notices
            The sun in the pool.

            Where no one feels
            The first drop of rain
            Or sees the last star

            Or hails the first morning
            Of a giant world
            Where peace begins
            And rages end:

            One bird sits still
            Watching the work of God:
            One turning leaf,
            Two falling blossoms,
            Ten circles upon the pond.

Poetry Prompt: "The" Poem

Based on "The Road to Acuna" by Catherine Bowman, write a poem describing all the things you noticed at one of the games last week. Be very detailed in your descriptions. Not "The boy riding on the back of the machine," but "The waving nine-year old clutching the zooming Zamboni."

"The Road to Acuna"

by Catherine Bowman

            The night we drive in is a snake

            The snake at the edge of the schoolyard.

            The ditch encircled by children.

            The legend dug deep to the devil.

            The place we discuss our childhood.

            The place where we hum in the desert.

            The ice melts away in the bucket.

            The white lace of the hotel bed.

            The glare on the rabbits, the rocks.

            The headlights that blaze on the roadside.

            The signs that all point to Acuna.

            The panting road to Acuna.

            The pot-bellied road to the border.

            The spiraling storm to the city.

Poetry Prompt: Playing as a Kid

Where's the best place to play your favorite sport when you were a kid, like ages 4-6? Describe in terms of instructions, as in the poem "How to Play Night Baseball" by Jonathan Holden. Use specific descriptions and details about your favorite spot to play, whether it's your driveway, a field, the living room, or your grandparents house. You can also use "Sock Basketball" as inspiration.

"How to Play Night Baseball"
by Jonathan Holden

A pasture is best, freshly


mown so that by the time a grounder's


plowed through all that chewed, spit-out


grass to reach you, the ball


will be bruised with green kisses. Start


in the evening. Come


with a bad sunburn and smelling of chlorine,


water still crackling in your ears.


Play until the ball is khaki-


a movable piece of the twilight-


the girls' bare arms in the bleachers are pale,


and heat lightning jumps in the west. Play


until you can only see pop-ups,


and routine grounders get lost in


the sweet grass for extra bases.

"Sock Basketball"

by Floyd Skloot

A bottomless, lidless shoebox
taped above my bedroom door
became the hoop, with a pair
of rolled-up socks as the ball.

I was preparing for the growth
spurt that never arrived. Slam
dunk, spin moves, sky hook,
fingertips against the ceiling.

Game after game as the clock
ticked the last seconds down
the score was tied, the crowd
went wild. I stood in the light

from a window, ball in hand,
only a bed and burly chest
of drawers between me and
victory, calm in the knowledge

that in this tight space I had all
the moves, the perfect touch.

Poetry Prompt: The Sounds of Sport

Based on "Tennis in the City" by Frank Higgins, write a poem that works the sound of the sport into the poem itself. Make sure that you describe the scene well with imagery, comparisons and details, but really focus in on the sound.

"Tennis in the City"
by Frank Higgins

He could help us out

selling papers or sacking groceries

but that's what I did growing up.

Every day he's in the alley

knocking that ball against the building.

Whomp      take that     Forest Hills

whomp     whomp       take that      Wimbledon

whomp         whomp          whomp

all          day       long,

the wife tells me so.

Says she watches him from the window

when the bossman has her clean 'em,

says she doesn't know about that boy.

But I know about that boy

and I know this ball's worn

and I know this racket's gonna split

no matter how much tape you put on,

so tonight after supper

we're going for new ones, son.

And I want you to start staying

in that alley an hour longer, hear?

for Arthur Ashe (famous African-American tennis player)

Poetry Prompt: Passions

Pick your favorite sport and something else you love. It could be your favorite band, food, subject, etc. Based on the poem "Allegiance" by Forrest Hamer, merge the two things together. How is your favorite food like your favorite sport, or team?

"Allegiance"
by Forrest Hamer

I loved the Supremes as much as baseball

at eleven., my first base plate a stage.

So in those summertime lulls in action,

all base hits easily thwarted, I sang

the way Diana Ross did - rare and

heavy-lidded, often about some love

that did her wrong. The background girls concurred.

And I noticed myself changing pronouns,

suddenly aware that the other boys

listened closely to their first baseman,

more now than he had, reminding him

how necessary practice is with pronouns,

converting she to he at every turn;

otherwise a guy on the other team

might get past you, and then another one

could bat him in, the other side winning

and your whole team holding you responsible.

Poetry Prompt: Patchwork

Go onto several sports websites and look at multiple articles on the same sport. Pick your favorite descriptions for the various articles and work them together into a 16 line or longer poem. Or you can find one article and take the the writing there, add line breaks, stanzas, details, maybe some metaphors to make a poem of your own. I gave an example of my own from Grantland.

Websites Suggestions:
The Mid Majority
Stymie Mag
Grantland (warning: some bad language)

"Barry Bond's Apology"
by Brian Phillips, edited by Matthew Miller

Rub this on your stomach, 

swallow this at seven o'clock.

I looked at myself 

as a science experiment.

I hit baseballs for a living, and decided

— legal or illegal, no limits — 

to get better at hitting baseballs.  My mission. 

Not defending myself here. Just obsessed,

like buying a castle in Germany back in '92

as a tax shelter, a lab there

worked with lightning, 

worked with electricity,

mostly by moonlight. 

My hunchback assistant, Karlheinz.

He'd dig up the corpses, 

recently hanged men to dissect,

use their body parts. So many bodies.

Through the night, sawing. 

Mountains silhouetted in the window. 

We abandoned only when villagers came

with torches. They threw unhittable pitches. 

'Steroids,' they called it. 'Unholy.'

 'Against God's plan.' I'd like to apologize.

My left arm belonged to a murderer,

now I can't control it. Don't come too close. 

I once killed a man for his eyeballs.

I'm so sorry.

Poetry Prompt: SportsCenter Haikus

A haiku poem has a format of 5-7-5 when it comes to syllables. See "7 Haikus" by A.S. Poland below as an example. Write a descriptive haiku for each segment of Sportscenter as it comes on, or as you search it on espn.com. Write about at least 4 segments.

"7 Haikus"
by A.S. Poland

The child's bowling ball.

Slowly it rolls to a halt.

He still wants no help.

A game of dodge ball.

One by one

We fall like soldiers.

Running the track.

It stretches on and on.

I fall behind.

With the chosen club I swing.

That white ball remains

And only dirt is flying.

He slides into home.

A cloud of dust engulfs him.

It clears: he is safe.

Playing by the woods.

We pass and steal and score.

Are the trees watching?

I dribble the ball

And without warning he comes

To snatch it away.

Poetry Prompt: Revision! Revision!

Go back to one of the descriptive writings from earlier in the J-term. Take it out and add line breaks, maybe stanza breaks. Then edit out words that aren't completely necessary. Use a thesaurus to punch up the language a bit, make it more active. Voila! It's a poem! Use the poem excerpt below as a form to structure your poem.

"Tennis in San Juan"
by Reuel Denney

Thin under the arc lighs,
Pin legs in their chalk whites;
The bug of the slammed ball
Trying in vain to get out;
All done in a slow dance
To night tune of the tree frog,
An inch long, glass, co-ki,
co-ki he says, co-ki,
Never seen but heard now,
Heard then, heard and heard
after the sundown, all night.

Poetry Prompt: I Remember...

Based on  "Penance" by Sherman Alexie, write a poem about what you remember about practicing. What was expected of you? What drills did you hate? Be descriptive about the things in practice like Alexie is (the spin, the ball falling, etc.) Use good details!

"Penance"

by Sherman Alexie

I remember sun-

days when the man I

call my father made

me shoot free throws

for every day of my life

so far. I remember

the sin of imperfect

spin, the ball falling in-

to that moment between

a father and forgive-

ness, between the hands reach-

ing up and everything

they can possibly hold.

Poetry Prompt: All About the Ball

Grab a ball and look at it. Make 6 comparisons, either similes (the ball is like a block of Swiss cheese) or metaphors (the ball is a bright moon). Remember, you can describe specific parts of the ball as well (the lines are like rivers, etc.) Use this poem from last J-Term as an example.

"The Basketball"
by Dustin Miller

Surface worn down like an old
miners hands.

Lines colored like coal; dark, tiny
valleys around the surface.

The name like the badge
on the worker’s shirts.

Scarred marks from play; scraped
by picks, hammers, dynamite.

But to fly through the air,
like a plane,

looking down at the goal,
instead of always looking up.

Poetry Prompt: Why Play a Sport?

Based on "Pumping Iron" by Diane Ackerman, come up with the reasons why you play a certain sport. Start with the reasons others might play, but you don't. Then talk about why you do. Try to use descriptive words, and follow the form of Ackerman's poem.

"Pumping Iron" 

by Diane Ackerman

She doesn't want

the bunchy look

of male lifters:

torso an unyielding love-knot,

arms hard at mid-boil.

Doesn't want

the dancing bicepses

of pros.

Just to run her flesh

up the flagpole

of her body,

to pull her roaming flab

into tighter cascades,

machete a waist

through the jungle

of her hips,

a trim waist

two hands might grip

as a bouquet.