Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The deceased was seventeen years old- An enlarged heart, the coroner claims. A basketball player on the court. his team trailing in the game. Their perfect season was at risk when he shot and made a “Three” He then collapsed upon the court midst shouts of victory. Hearts are unromantic things That race and slow by turns. They simply pump While we run and jump And prance about life’s stage. We take for granted our own hearts As we wander through our days. Our faithful friend who never sleeps So we can laugh and play And when hearts fail we feel the pain Of songs now left unsung. That’s why we’re haunted by the tales of Athletes dying young.
0
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 11:13 PM UTC
Sudden Death
The deceased was seventeen years old- An enlarged heart, the coroner claims. A basketball player on the court. his team trailing in the game. Their perfect season was at risk when he shot and made a “Three” He then collapsed upon the court midst shouts of victory. Hearts are unromantic things That race and slow by turns. They simply pump While we run and jump And prance about life’s stage. We take for granted our own hearts As we wander through our days. Our faithful friend who never sleeps So we can laugh and play And when hearts fail we feel the pain Of songs now left unsung. That’s why we’re haunted by the tales of Athletes dying young.
Based on an actual event
john-f-mccullagh
Written by
63/M/American
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 11:13 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem