PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The ball is passed,
Whether it's a clean pass,
Or a horrible shank,
You will see me sore after it.

I get a hand on the ball,
Standing, sprawling, mid-air, or in goofy stances.
I would dive into a wall, bleachers, or even my own bench,
Just to try and get that set.

When the ball leaves my hands,
Flying down Setter Lane to the hitter's sure swing!
When the flow is right,
And the perfect set gets up,
Right to the strong hitter,
Down to the solid floor.

The beautiful, yet simple movements,
Of a team working as a whole.
When the three touches come together.
The magic of the perfect play!

I have jammed my wrists, fingers, and even elbows and knees,
Sprung my ankles,
Slammed to the ground and bleachers,
All for the sake of that one perfect play.
The one that means everything to me.

When a clean pass reaches the setter spot,
Greated by controled setter hands,
Pushed to a hitter's line of fire,
And finally slammed to the ground,
Or shanked to Mexico.

The voices we've lost,
The skin that's no longer connected,
The water we chug,
The tears we cry,
The chants we scream,
The brain cells we've given up.

Every moment of it was worth it,
Just to be on the court,
To have that ball in my hands,
To hear the crowd's screams.

Just thoughts of my beloved volleyball,
Sends chills and excitement down my body.
The urge to be seen,
To show off,
To be a star,
And prove I'm the best,
Fill my dreams,
With both old and future game film replays in my head.

I await the next chance,
The chance to have that power,
That glory,
The love!
Til I am on the court again,
I dream of plays and moves.