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#kobe
You left the fog that took your heart from us: We linger there within your numbers left; To add, subtract in all to equal thus; Your eight and twenty-four's are now bereft. Our sorrow pleas that you could play once more! Perhaps there's golden baskets where you are There by your baby as you were before; And each by turn would sparkle in a star! The clouds conceal your form but not your praise But take you into fame of higher realms: A mentorship for greatness and its ways, Yet now forgive; our sadness overwhelms: And mourner's mourn where yours and Gigis keep Tho' graves unmarked, let markings be our weep!
0
Mar 1, 2020
Mar 1, 2020 at 6:40 AM UTC
Rest In Peace Kobe
Dear Basketball, Why am I not six foot six. If I could reach just a little higher, I would score you with ease. We’d make a winning team. You’d be my world spinning on the tip of my finger. We’d shoot for the moon night-in and night-out, with no fear of falling because your gravity is the force that grounds me. We’d have a bounce to our step: you striking the pavement like a war drum and me walking on air with my head in the clouds of Southern California. We'd turn soaring over expectations into a high art. Imagine this: the first sub-six-foot Asian minority in the NBA wins the MVP! And they would pay us! Never mind the money. We'll earn a wealth of respect. We'll command conundrums. Coaches across the league would call us a problem and scratch their heads drawing up defensive formulas on white boards named after us. I realize that’s a long shot. I'm taking it. You won’t even see me flinch even if you did hit me between the eyes and broke my nose on that inbound play, I’d grin in the face of the opponent like how my four-year-old girl handled pneumonia in a hospital bed, I will emerge from any cold spell with child-like hope and a Gigi-like game face, jaws jutting out Because adversity is what brings out greatness and struggle is what proves you are still alive. I could be trailing by 20 for an entire game I could have zero points, but no doubts that the next shot is going in. I'm taking it. Even if it means fading away into the darkness over multiple hands outstretched with our goal that is the basket nowhere to be seen I'd throw my hopes and fears into the wind for you, regardless of what the defense throws back. If basketball is a religion, then I am a devout practitioner, putting up prayers from behind the arc And when things don't bounce our way, I won't blame you. Defeat reveals what you're fundamentally made of, so I will work on my form: fingers along your grooves, toes pointed ahead, follow through. I will work on my endurance: hustle beats skill any day I will work on passing you and the wisdom you bring to the next generation, so they can score whatever it is they dream I will work to give my daughter the best possible shot I will lead by example. Championships come and go: what we are working towards will last forever And guess what, Basketball? I will still be far from six foot six, making it very hard to play you well. That’s no excuse. That just means I will practice dribbling low to the ground and moving like a shadow beneath their feet. No one can guard what they can't see coming: we'll fly under the radar. I'd give you the best of me to let you bring out the beast in me: an apex predator with a forked tongue through bared fangs and black skin thick as battle armor No amount of hisses and boos can block our shot. We'd go the distance, crossing over into the unknown and through whatever physical and emotional contact comes next I will hit the floor for you, rise up and sink my free throws on a limp. If I needed 81 points to win you over, I’d bring back each one in an autographed bucket, even if it takes 82 games to do it. We could spend a long, loosing season together, and I would still wake up at 4 a.m. to see you in an empty gym, while dawn turns the sky from purple into gold. I’d savor every drop of sweat the comes from running back and forth for miles in your shoes between your two bottomless baskets. I don't care how tall I am. We are chasing the footsteps of immortal giants, if only to write our own legends that will never die. Even if I had just 24 seconds to do it, I’d spend every last one believing in miracles. It’s a long shot, but together, we can’t miss. Long Live You, Your Number One Fan
0
Feb 1, 2020
Feb 1, 2020 at 2:42 PM UTC
The Kobe Summon
Dear Basketball, Why am I not six foot six. If I could reach just a little higher, I would score you with ease. We’d make a winning team. You’d be my world spinning on the tip of my finger. We’d shoot for the moon night-in and night-out, with no fear of falling because your gravity is the force that grounds me. We’d have a bounce to our step: you striking the pavement like a war drum and me walking on air with my head in the clouds of Southern California. We'd turn soaring over expectations into a high art. Imagine this: the first sub-six-foot Asian minority in the NBA wins the MVP! And they would pay us! Never mind the money. We'll earn a wealth of respect. We'll command conundrums. Coaches across the league would call us a problem and scratch their heads drawing up defensive formulas on white boards named after us. I realize that’s a long shot. I'm taking it. You won’t even see me flinch even if you did hit me between the eyes and broke my nose on that inbound play, I’d grin in the face of the opponent like how my four-year-old girl handled pneumonia in a hospital bed, I will emerge from any cold spell with child-like hope and a Gigi-like game face, jaws jutting out Because adversity is what brings out greatness and struggle is what proves you are still alive. I could be trailing by 20 for an entire game I could have zero points, but no doubts that the next shot is going in. I'm taking it. Even if it means fading away into the darkness over multiple hands outstretched with our goal that is the basket nowhere to be seen I'd throw my hopes and fears into the wind for you, regardless of what the defense throws back. If basketball is a religion, then I am a devout practitioner, putting up prayers from behind the arc And when things don't bounce our way, I won't blame you. Defeat reveals what you're fundamentally made of, so I will work on my form: fingers along your grooves, toes pointed ahead, follow through. I will work on my endurance: hustle beats skill any day I will work on passing you and the wisdom you bring to the next generation, so they can score whatever it is they dream I will work to give my daughter the best possible shot I will lead by example. Championships come and go: what we are working towards will last forever And guess what, Basketball? I will still be far from six foot six, making it very hard to play you well. That’s no excuse. That just means I will practice dribbling low to the ground and moving like a shadow beneath their feet. No one can guard what they can't see coming: we'll fly under the radar. I'd give you the best of me to let you bring out the beast in me: an apex predator with a forked tongue through bared fangs and black skin thick as battle armor No amount of hisses and boos can block our shot. We'd go the distance, crossing over into the unknown and through whatever physical and emotional contact comes next I will hit the floor for you, rise up and sink my free throws on a limp. If I needed 81 points to win you over, I’d bring back each one in an autographed bucket, even if it takes 82 games to do it. We could spend a long, loosing season together, and I would still wake up at 4 a.m. to see you in an empty gym, while dawn turns the sky from purple into gold. I’d savor every drop of sweat the comes from running back and forth for miles in your shoes between your two bottomless baskets. I don't care how tall I am. We are chasing the footsteps of immortal giants, if only to write our own legends that will never die. Even if I had just 24 seconds to do it, I’d spend every last one believing in miracles. It’s a long shot, but together, we can’t miss. Long Live You, Your Number One Fan
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I was bleak Dying upon the floor I wished I had sought The lost The rare and radiant, the angels Here
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Jan 31, 2020
Jan 31, 2020 at 9:33 AM UTC
the lost
No tears seem to express. No words seem to explain. My heart has sunken into my gut As the world is hooded with pain.   A jack of many trades. A master of them all. An artist in the greatest form Whose paintbrush was a ball. This life makes little sense. Souls taken far too soon. We must cherish the ones we love Because our time, we cannot choose. The Mamba lives forever, In the hearts of old and young. The hope you gave to many Will be shared for years to come. The memories will never fade. Your legacy will live on. A hero of the game we love, But a legend far beyond.
0
Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 1:40 PM UTC
Mamba Forever
While the world And I Mourn Kobe's passing, On nearly the same day Jihadists invaded villages... West Africa, Burkina Faso, Alamou. Villagers ordered out Into the open areas Gunned down, Slashed, Murdered. An attendance question opens, "What happened in the world?' Kobe Bryant is gone. Private helicopter crashed. The world is on its head. We hang our heads In mourning. Jacque's turn: "My village was Attacked Saturday. Forty people killed. My wife and children... There. The people are fleeing To the capitol, Ouagadouga." [Awkward, this revelation. How will I ever justify A week of Edgar Allan Poe?] We bow to pray.
0
Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 11:53 AM UTC
Kobe & Burkina
Defied gravity,changed the game’s formalities and all you have to say is mentality. For the lord of the rings mastery to appear images of 81, a man who shots ended so many suns and trailblazers. Your impact was nothing short of a Big Bang crater, a creator to so many future hoop legends that’s why I’m writing “Dear heaven” cause he did more for us than any lakers possession. A father even in the end, I salute as your jersey ascends there will never be another bean Bryant again.
0
Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 8:03 AM UTC
The 8th wonder of the world
mourning on the morning sun just a month of a newly year already a lot of painful memories has come
0
Jan 26, 2020
Jan 26, 2020 at 11:00 PM UTC
you are too painful, January
We've Lost Another Giant ... !!! We've Lost Another Giant ... !!! The One And Only ... ... Kobe Bryant ... !!!!!!! His Daughter Too ... As Well As Seven More ... !!! I Feel Cold Like SORES ... To Now Know That Kobe ... Won't Be Seen Anymore ... !!! It's Such A Shame ... For Him To Pass This Way ... At Such A Young Age ... What Can A Fan Say ... His Game Amazed ... In SO MANY Ways ... And He Went Through A LOT ... To Get To ... The TOP ... Accusations ... And Other Stuff ... That Never Stopped His Pursuit To Be ... A Basketball GOD ... !!! There's So Much More ... That I'd Like To Say ... Just ... NOT TODAY ... !!!!!!!!!!!! It's A Time For Respect ... And A Moment of Silence ... Because We've Just Lost ... A TRUE Basketball GIANT ... The One And Only ... KOBE BRYANT ... !!!!!!!!!
0
Jan 26, 2020
Jan 26, 2020 at 7:00 PM UTC
"A Giant" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 26/1/2020
I moved closer though never over no charge just credit You jaune pourpre couleur & calculated in two points like Magic We mind bleu as you pirouette through D waters sea Breezily done & one They called Lakers cuz da Walk On um
0
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 7:16 PM UTC
You Moved &
Life is About getting buckets. How would Kobe live if he couldn't? That's a mystery mankind will never truly comprehend. A bucketless Kobe is a fake Kobe. The sound of that string music is unmatchable. The Kareem sky hook. The Curry j. The Kobe fadeaway. The PG windmill. These are all different forms, They all get buckets. Cherish these buckets like no other. One day you will be old and grey. Like bill Russell. You won't be able to get buckets anymore except for in your dreams. When your career is over. You will miss it. You can't get buckets forever.
0
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 8:37 AM UTC
Getting Buckets