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The bruises, black and blue, proclaim
I play a fun but breakneck game.
    The bleeding wounds, the scars, the cuts -
     A sport that needs some inner guts.

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The thundering wheels under my feet,
The leaps, the dives, the land that’s neat;
     The twists the turns, the risk, the speed,
      Fulfils that driving inner need.

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From break of day until the night
Skateboards fire burning delight.
     With danger from an inner urge,
     Skateboarding can be a scourge.

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It’s self-inflicted pain on knees;
It’s hurtling through the air with ease.
    Adrenaline speeds through the veins 
    And decimates those aches and pains.

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Copyright on all my poems

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