Basketball poem

The Man who can’t be moved

  Handling the rock,

Hit the shot before the             

 Clock Goes Tick tock. Ball

in my hands, man to man. He can

not be stopped, His J is nice, but

 simply I will never be topped,

Nailing a three

Trailing going back on D,

I come back at him with a jam,

he stands, embarrassed like

a stiff old tree. The crowd goes

crazy and amusingly wild.

I’m now the man, no longer a child.

Sprinting like a wild cheetah

You better bet that I will beat ya.

Eleven seconds left on the clock,

all the opponent does is is talk.

Tie game forty-one to forty-one,

now I’ll show them how it’s done.

Breakaway down the court,

look at me I own this sport.

     They call me Kobe

     For many reasons

     Because I'm the best

        Every       single

        Season.   Then I       

      Take him to the hoop

    I dunk so   hard I take him

  To got game  boulevard. They

thought that I would fall, but

I knew that was  not the case at all