Weekly Storm

(Yeah this is total crap. But if i have to write poetry for class, I hope to pass on some of the misery to others.)

Brick walls, wood floor

Waiting anxiously behind the door.

The storm gathering in the stands

Waiting breathlessly for their fav’rite band,


Not of music, but of men

Come together once again

To battle against the hated foe

Be it panther, Trojan, or Eskimo


The door opens wide

We run with pride

The storm cloud breaks

And yells for homicide


Battle is firey

My innards diaree

Ah, much to my utter chagrin,

I leave the conflict to hide my sin.


Friends come cheering

For our nearing

Vict’ry over life long rival

To my inner sanctum of trial



Half time is over

I have the go-fer

Fetch me new armor

From the old clothing garner




The game comes close,

We might be toast

Jim fouls out

disgusted coach starts to pout


But puts me in to do my thing

I find the ring

I dunk the ball

The warm hurricane engulfs us all