Okay, so I keep losing whatever I have in the judgment. Next time I'm saving to the cloud to save myself the trouble. What I have here is what I have.
THEME: SPORTS
I often wake up after the midnight
To watch my favorite Football teams fight
I cooked Noodle and turn on the TV
Champions League airing in the quiet of the predawnSpectators screams and singing their favorite anthem
While the teams entered the field in confidence
The referee blow the whistle and the game are begin
Teamwork and strategy are blend in a beautiful game
There is nothing quite like staying up late or waking up early to watch your favorite team of your favorite sport playing an important game.
Sports are kinda cool,
But I've never tried them out
(Except racquetball).
What I like about this is that it encapsulates a noncommittal answer that overall just shows ambivalence to sports in general without outright stating "I don't care about sports."
No one can make me do it
I'll never play a game inside
I'd rather stay outside and be
Kicking the ball with pride
They always told me the way to live
Was with TV and video games
But I found my own way of living without
And they all look upon me like dames.
Who is the "they" who always told you that the way to live was with TV and video games? "dames" at the end of the poem sounds forced and awkward.
Grass beneath my feet,
Fans cheering as I run, and--
Curse this wicked mud.
It doesn't matter what the sport is. Slipping in a sport played on a grassy field is no fun, especially in front of cheating fans.
Javelin, shot put
so much to choose
sports day again
Don't want to looseRunning, jumping
Fourth up to three
three more events
On a winning spree
Gymnastics, swimming
One last event
My time's here again
but my energy's spent
Cycling for gold
to put us on top
the finish was close
My heart nearly stopped
The photo showed all
by the smallest of space
I lost to my friend
and we won second place.
"Lose" is spelled incorrectly in the fourth line. The meter is iffy in the last lines, but I don't know if that was intentional to show a change in excitement or heart rate. This poem might also be better with more consistent punctuation, especially at the end of the lines, instead of just one period at the end of the entire poem.
THEME: TRIPPING
Gazing at the clouds
Turns to bleeding on the ground
Uneven pavement
The folly of not paying attention to where you are going and tripping over something so simple as uneven pavement! That is one very hard trip (or one very lost mind) where the speaker doesn't even brace for impact.
As I look at the sky
Watching the plane,
I feel the wind picking upOnce, twice, three times
I feel the rain crashing down
Feeling the anger in the clouds
Running away to home
Keeping pace of the rain
Feeling the furious wind
Crying for finding of shelter
I trip and fall face down.
How can a storm come so quickly that you can watch a plane one moment and then be stuck in a torrential downpour? Perhaps it was a very very angry storm. The narrative here feels odd to me, going from looking at a plane to running away from a furious storm.
Flat on my face
"Enjoy your trip!"
That tired out joke
Before an old trickThe second line added:
"See you next fall!"
The jeering goes past
I feel nothing at all
A lifetime of mocking
Now a hole in a place
In my trousers, my palms
What a disgrace
But what once was my weakness;
To stumble, and fall
Is now put on the stage
To the delight of all.
I did not see that twist coming. This is a different approach than the other entries. I am unsure of the meter here. It seems at odds with the content.
I`m all to finish
Until I finally learn
My laces are out.
The grammar here is hindering my understanding of this haiku, but I think I get the gist of it. This is possibly a race and the laces have come undone and the runner trips before the finish line.
An evening stroll in Central Park,
A warm, midsummer night;
A vase of tulips in the left,
And vino in the right.What's this? A tree branch? I know not,
Caught like a fish, my foot,
Stops dead as I continue on,
My balance now kaput.
The world around me swivels up,
The wall of asphalt nears,
My firm grip tightens on the glass,
I grasp my greatest fears.
My hands, committed, now my foes,
For they've brought on the end,
My nose and teeth, so innocent;
Why punish trusting friends?
A sacrifice must now be made,
It's either they or I,
The tulips must face injury,
The pinot noir must die.
The tightened grip relaxes, as
My hands begin to shift,
But fail to situate themselves,
For they are not so swift.
The Earth is but an inch away,
A million-dollar view;
And with my final, painless breath,
I bid my nose adieu.
Spilled wine, bruised tulips, broken glass,
A smashed ceramic vase;
How may I prize an evening stroll
When I'm flat on my face?
I like the rhyme and the rhythm here. The rhythm complements the humor well, like the telling of a joke, even if the rhythm is a bit off in some places.