Cahlil's Poem: Perfect

perfect

    I'm not the only kid

who grew up surrounded

by ball players and they say practice makes perfect

but it really doesn't someone

is only perfect when the our worth

and no one is it just like the man and lady

who tells you what to do

they are not perfect makers they our parents

they know i'm not going to be perfect

but i work and work to be perfect

but i'm getting better and my head

i wonder why i'm putting in all the work

to be perfect thinking in my head i'm so close

to being there but i'm not so as i grew up

i learned something their is no such thing as perfect

where did it come from a perfect job

and perfect house we our all humans

on a human world most our happy

and nice but not perfect it unreal untouchable

So when i think off perfect i think off no one just like when i was little i wanted to be perfect so bad but no one told me that perfect is not such thing

Rasaad's Poem: The Choice Is

The Choice Is...

Which shall I choose?

What I’m more advanced in

The ability to catch

With both hands like I’m ambidextrous

And run endlessly up 100 yards

With a helmet and pads

Or is it a better choice to do

What my dad is training me to do?

Run up and down the court

Like doing ladders with Coach Mister

Jump higher than Zach LaVine

In the 2016 NBA Dunk Contest

Win Championships like Kobe and Jordan

Even though Kobe IS the greatest

I overpass him in all categories

But IF I choose football…

Will all of my training be a waste?

My ability to jump 1,000 feet high

Thrown down the garbage chute

Like an empty bag of Fuego Takis

And still have the speed of The Flash

With hands like a three year old

With Gorilla Glue all over his fingers

Basketball is a whole ‘nother story

That feeling to hit the game winning point

And sweeping the Golden State Warriors 4-0

Like I was working late nights at McDonalds

Putting blood, sweat, and tears in my accolades

The Answer is The Truth…

And the Great AI and Paul Pierce

Made their mark in the game of Basketball

But football.. ya’ll know how I dominate

I catch like my name was Randy Moss

I have the strength of 10… MILLION MEN

I taught Odell how to catch

If you give me some sketchers

I’d still stop on a dime and confuse the defense

Dreams die hard… that can be said

But one has to vanish like grass in the snow

The Choice Is...

Richard's Poem: My First Game

My First Game

I see the basketball go swish

As the ball goes diving right through

I feel like I had shot a good shot

The ball was like a bird flying through the air

The buzzer beater goes ringing like a loud bell

The crowd and the team went crazy

Know it was the start of the 4th quarter

Me and my team was down by 4 points

Our goal was to pass, dribble, and shoot

Me and my team scored a few points

And we have tied the game 24-24

I wanted to win so I did the best I could do

I ran fast up and down the court like I was flash

There was only a few seconds left on the clock

Me and My team had to call a timeout

Our plan was to pass me the ball

The timeout is now over and the clock started ticking

They inbound the ball and give it to me

I was nervous at first when I was given the ball

Know there was only 5 seconds left on the clock

At this point I needed to shoot before the clock ran out

So my teammate set me a screen and I shot the ball

Next thing I realized was I missed my shot

My coach and teammates were upset that I missed

Now We are in Overtime

I sat on the bench for the rest of the quarter

I was upset and my coach was upset

This is what happened in my first game of Basketball

Ellaina's Poem

Questionable Much?

Hello my name is Ellaina, I am black, my hair is real.

I have a mom and a dad.

These are words I never thought I would have to say out loud to people.

But then again people in this world either doubt or assume.

I have questions

Why do we question people about who they are?

Sometimes I wish someone could lock my personality up.

It’s not like people pay attention to it anyways.

We might as well call the world Snapchat because everyone uses filters.

Our voices disappear in 24 hours.

Never to be heard of again. We put these filters over ourselves

to help us perceive what we want to see in our own way.

When really we should be focusing on others in life as if they’re endangered species.

But instead we all rome around the same exhibits.Our own kind.

Why do we do this? Why we believe the opinions of others?

Why don’t we follow our own gut?

But we always leave our feelings disregarded, maybe then we’ll realize why we’re

Re-really crazy.

Hopefully we can all be pencils one day,sometime in the future.

Standing tall or short erasing what is wrong, sharpening our points.

Yet there will always be those whom wish to remain permanent markers.

Having themselves bleed into the paper that isn’t theirs.

Still life is just one big piece of construction paper.

Everyone has their own styles of writing their stories.

Sharing what should be kept.  Like, “OMG I just took my first step outside today, LOL”

While there will be people in the world that don’t share info with the people that care about them.

But if I plan to stay true, I might as well share with you that there will never be a day where we happily scream woo-hoo.

Because isn’t life questionable much?

Floyd's Poem: Osgood Schlatter

Osgood Schlatter

They say you can’t play with a bullet in your knee

but I still play with one in both knees

You shouldn’t underestimate something you don’t know

There’s always a change in something

“Ice your knee after every practice it helps the pain go away”

i don’t ice my knees to the day and still play basketball

Every bump every touch ahhh my knee hurts so bad

but it always goes away after a while

I thought I’d never play again

But to this day I do still play like kids with legos

This is a common disease it goes around a lot

Most athletes have it below their knee

But most athletes quit right after that

I didn’t quit because I like basketball

Unlike others they didn’t like it as much as I did

Basketball inspired me to keep going

So now thank you basketball

                                                 For the love given and shown

Momodou's Poem:

SWEAT

I wake up at 4am

Running down the stairs

Like a lamborghini

Ready to lace em up

Its 90 degrees outside and nobody's out

i m by myself with cones and a ball

I shoot 1 million shots and make 8 It's to hot

I can't make any shots I'm somnolent

Excuses upon excuses upon

You guessed it excuses upon excuses  

until i want to go in

But i get up place the cones

and all you hear is

Clank brick click clang until i get it right

I'm feeling like i'm in a Fight

I feel tons of sweat dripping down

My face

I'm about to fall because

Right now i can't play basketball

You can see the the clouds getting dimed

In front of the sun

Its starting to get late The ball is fire

Because i can't seem to get it right

I lay back and think of the clouds

I'm sweating like a pool Or a lake

I don't know what to think

Of except for being asleep

Its hot and im about to fold

I lay down and swim backstroke

In the

pool of sweat that came dripping down my face

I get back up soaked from swimming and

Continue to play

As i dribble i feel lighting through my hands

I felt the melt on the basketball

That's when i knew it was time to stall

I went from chicago to canada in the

Blink of an eye i was gone

Thinking of nothing but getting Around and

Stalling all across america

I get dry with no sweat as i

Get across america with no problem

Meeting the flash and he can't even

Catch up i feel the wind

Against my face as i have the ball

In my hands

As i lay back and see

The pool of sweat from earlier

I come back down from

Canada and replace the cones

I get back up and all of a sudden

Like the tortoise and the hair

I feel great

The basketball dribbles back

On the black court

I'm hitting every shot i take

I feel like im great

Its great until i want

To go inside so i have to stall

again.

Giorgina's Poem: Mexican Pride

Mexican pride

Only identifying as one race

Half mexican  

                                                                   Half white

                                                      But rolling with my mexican

                                                              side day and night

Only really familiar

To a fresh scent of a conches

My loud voice overpowers my white side  

Never showing any hate or disrespecting

To my white side

Feeling more comfortable with my mexican side

Every day every min every sec

Feeling like my white side is a new

Book i never opened

But still riding with my mexican side

Never letting go to the side that make me

The side that make me loud

But still show my love to both my side

Now little by little get to know my white side

But still say i'm mexican

Never changing that

Still identifying  as mexican

Still say i'm full no matter what

But not really forgetting both my  white side