deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Stickball Game
The ceremony drums are beating
In a steady thumping stream
You hear their sticks clashing
From each side of the teams
There are screaming children
And there are screaming mothers
The native skin all sheen with sweat
Over the cries of all our brothers
The stickball fans are all tense
As the drums rip through our chest
They’re head to head, toe to toe
And these warriors are the best
The fittest and feral felines
Tanned skin of the southeast
You can find our tribe down here
In the deep belly of the beast
It’s half time, but it’s still a sight
Adorned in nothing but embroidered cloth
Beaded by our mothers and sisters
This is where our essence comes from
The dark soil and blades of grass
As their bare feet move across it
It’s the tension in the atmosphere
The power the savage yells emit
The drums beating in the background
As we all scream in our native tongue
It seems the fight is just getting dirtier
As if we’re all not already champions
The ball can be seen against the trees
Bright red flying across the clearing
It looks so much like a bloodied pellet
It dings the post, signaling a scoring
The game is still in full swing
Even though we’re nearing the close
You can still hear whoops and hollers
And the kind of feeling it all evokes
I’m feeling like a predator looking for prey
All this tension has me chomping at the chains
They say don’t mess around with savages
We have the blood of beasts in our veins
In a steady thumping stream
You hear their sticks clashing
From each side of the teams
There are screaming children
And there are screaming mothers
The native skin all sheen with sweat
Over the cries of all our brothers
The stickball fans are all tense
As the drums rip through our chest
They’re head to head, toe to toe
And these warriors are the best
The fittest and feral felines
Tanned skin of the southeast
You can find our tribe down here
In the deep belly of the beast
It’s half time, but it’s still a sight
Adorned in nothing but embroidered cloth
Beaded by our mothers and sisters
This is where our essence comes from
The dark soil and blades of grass
As their bare feet move across it
It’s the tension in the atmosphere
The power the savage yells emit
The drums beating in the background
As we all scream in our native tongue
It seems the fight is just getting dirtier
As if we’re all not already champions
The ball can be seen against the trees
Bright red flying across the clearing
It looks so much like a bloodied pellet
It dings the post, signaling a scoring
The game is still in full swing
Even though we’re nearing the close
You can still hear whoops and hollers
And the kind of feeling it all evokes
I’m feeling like a predator looking for prey
All this tension has me chomping at the chains
They say don’t mess around with savages
We have the blood of beasts in our veins
Published 12th Jul 2019
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12th Jul 2019 7:26pm
This piece remind of an old picture of Iroquois playing stick ball in an old history book
12th Jul 2019 7:41pm
We still play it like the old’en days. Pretty sure most tribes play it the same these days, but mine is the Choctaw.
12th Jul 2019 7:52pm
Anonymous
- Edited 22nd Feb 2020 6:45am
12th Jul 2019 7:40pm
<< post removed >>
12th Jul 2019 7:47pm
12th Jul 2019 8:42pm
Is it what we might call hockey over in England? You have summed up the excitement of the game well. But it's more than a game, it seems, lol. 😈
12th Jul 2019 9:00pm
Maybe so, it’s more like lacrosse, I think. Catching the ball (size of golf ball) across a football field to sling towards a pole at either end.
12th Jul 2019 9:26pm
12th Jul 2019 10:15pm
13th Jul 2019 00:01am
13th Jul 2019 00:26am
Thanks Carpe! Yeah, trying to stay in the habit of writing more even if it comes to this haha thanks for the appreciation!
13th Jul 2019 2:50am
13th Jul 2019 3:21am
13th Jul 2019 10:59pm
WOW! It is rare I read something so rich with cultural storytelling. This is truly a poem that should be in a library or archive. This is both a grand recording of living history and a lyrically brilliant poem. This takes me back to my anthropology years and could be the basis of a wonderful ethnography.
John
John
13th Jul 2019 11:02pm
Wow, John, this comment is packed full of so many compliments, you're so kind! Thank you so much for the generous comments, and stopping in to read and the wonderful RL entry!
