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Inspirational Baseball Poems | Inspirational Poems About Baseball

These Inspirational Baseball poems are examples of Inspirational poems about Baseball. These are the best examples of Inspirational Baseball poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

The Victory Dance

To play as if today
Is your only chance.
Some say, “It’s just a game.”
Have they done the Victory Dance?

When hard-earned Victory
Was finally at hand,
Have they felt the glory
Raining down from the stands?

To do or not to do….
No one wants to hear, “We tried.”
Effort and dedication will be rewarded… 
They'll make the 'magic' that's on your side. 

Yes, to fall short is still an option;
But much better to succeed.
Heroes are made and remembered
Only by their deeds.

So, just go out and win.
Give your all to each and every chance.
Persevere and achieve…

And do the Victory Dance.

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Rhyme | |

Struck Out



Today at 8:05 AM 


Why must we feel stuck, as if we can't get out.
Instead of positive on our minds, most are filled with doubts.
This life was never meant, to be easy for a second.
That's why before blessings, we are taught many lessons.
So many people, think they're alone on this ride.
Always seen with a smile but it's the hurt that they hide.
I am here to tell you, I promise that you're not.
All you have to do, is give happiness a shot. 
We all walk by one another, passing on the streets.
Never knowing what that stranger, would give anything to defeat.
It really is not that hard, offering to help someone.
Do you not have struggles, that you wish were undone?
Why does one judge so hard, when they do not even know.
Why cut someone off, when there is so much left to show.
If each person in the world..gave one stranger a chance, life would be more beautiful.. From just a single glance.
When all we ever hear about, are the sad things and the bad.. It makes it haft to remember, the great things we all once had.
If you really want change.. You have to be just that, if you think the world has struck out, then maybe you're up to bat.

Copyright © LAUREN GARNER

Details | Blank verse | |

This Blue Moon

This Blue Moon..
This moon is hypnotizing , this moon knows all Truth and lies

it is a rare moon and filled with questions asked 
luminous clouds weaving through , knowing all through existence

showing me there is yet true love in the mist

who else has been captured by the Magic that surrounds this Blue Moon tonight ~
pure  light and magic that pulls on your soul , instinctively,  when called you will go
with all senses enhanced, romancing you 
 all that you know

it controls the waters at Sea, as though it instructs all sea life
speaking to the dolphins' and lighting the oceans glow 

telling the night owl too take flight and hunt ~ 
showing a white Owl for the first time seen


this moon is speaking , listening to all prayers 
there is more around us, more then the finest of wise Men know


Look at this moon tonight 
Tell me now what the truth is 
This Blue Moon ..it knows.

Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | I do not know? | |

Life is a Baseball Game

You are the batter,
Shaking in your cleats,
Scared of what may come,
So scared you may flee.

The pitcher stands there noble,
Strong and steady,
HIs pitch is fast,
And you are not so ready.

The pitch is down the middle,
Right where you like,
But something comes over you,
Like the darkest of the nights.

SWING!
And you miss,
Satan got in you,
And gave you a kiss.

You walk back to the dugout,
And begin to weap,
You let your father down,
But then you leap!

You hop right back up,
Your at-bat again,
You get another shot,
This time Satan must not get in!

You pray to God,
Asking for Satan to be gone,
You dig in,
Humming in song.

With a smile on your face,
You watch the pitcher throw,
Right down the middle,
Yet this one was drove.

As far as you could,
The ball flew like out of a gun,
You watch with amazement,
As the pitcher says," That's my son!"


Copyright © zackery harbin

Details | Free verse | |

Take me out to the ballgame, Mister Cub

                          Mr. Cub, take me out to the ballgame! 
 
                               A Chicago Cubs-Fan Prayer! 
 
                        In nomine patri et fili spiritu of Ron Santo

                          Let us all give thanks for Ernie Banks! 

                                     Let us play, TWO! 


Our Father, who art in Wrigley Field Hallowed be thy name on those ivy covered Brick-house walls

Thy new stadium will come, the owners will be done

On earth, as it is in heaven to sit in the sun with the bleacher-bums

Give us this day our daily dread, but remove those lights that some say  offend 

And forgive us our trespasses for trading our best hitters and aces 

As we forgive those same players who then come back, and rub it in our faces

Lead us not, into tenth inning disgraces, and worst of all, with men left on bases 

Deliver us from evil and finishing in last place

And Caray us on to win the pennant race 

All's we're ask ‘in for is a couple a more runs with three men on base

Bring us oh Lord a world series trophy, or it won't be long before were all dopey! 

Our faith be rich, but our pockets are poor, because most of us can't afford a dog or a couple a beers in here! 

Our spirit lives on and we know no fear, so whaddya say we lose the, "wait till next year"!

Mr. Cub is rounding third and headed for home, one more time on this hallowed ground, but we still need a closer for a Cubs World Series win! 

Ronny made the call to one of their friends, "send in the saver, Ernie can't do it all"!  

Now the "LORD's" in the line-up, and Mr. Cub just handed him the ball! 

Let us all give thanks for Ernie Banks!  AMEN!

Copyright © Tim Collins

Details | I do not know? | |

Life is a Baseball Game

You are the batter,
Shaking in your cleats,
Scared of what may come,
So scared you may flee.

The pitcher stands there noble,
Strong and steady,
His pitch is fast,
And you are not so ready.

The pitch is down the middle,
Right where you like,
But something comes over you,
Like the darkest of the nights.

SWING! 
And you miss,
Satan got in you,
And gave you a kiss.

You walk back to the dugout,
And begin to weep,
You let your father down,
But then you leap!

You hop right back up,
Your at-bat again,
You get another shot,
This time Satan must not get in!

You pray to God,
Asking for Satan to be gone,
You dig in,
Humming in song.

With a smile on your face,
You watch the pitcher throw,
Right down the middle,
Yet this one was drove!

As far as you could,
The ball flew like out of a gun,
You watch with amazement,
As the pitcher says," That’s my son!"

Copyright © Zackery Harbin

Details | Free verse | |

THE GAME

It’s the great American pass time that will never die,
The thundering sport called baseball, as the grand
Old flag waves in the breeze, of everlasting freedom above
The sacred stadium on opening day!
It’s the roaring of the exploding crowds, as their team
Players are called out by name, from the dug-outs of
The futures unknown hall of fame!
The birthing of a brand new season as the first ball
Is tossed out, by the celebrity guest, and the umpire
Screams, those wondrous words, LETS PLAY BALL!
It’s the sounding crack at the bat, by heroes of legendary
Status, champion defenders of their hometown pride,
These athletes of speed, agility, and epic skill!
Within their uniforms of fame, these iconic players
Are ready for the game to begin, in this arena of
Liberation’s legion of winners, the phrase home run
Says it all, on the scoreboard screen of reality!
In the stadium you can smell the blending of the familiar
Aroma’s the freshly cut grass, human sweat, and
Excitements anticipation building to a feverous pitch!
The grandstands hawker’s, yelling out loud, their famous
Words of wetted appetites endurance, “popcorn, peanuts,
Get your red hots here.”
These gentlemen pitchers with their own throwing rights
Of fames classification, tossing tempting wares, towards
The eager hands of their hungry patrons!
The thundering fans begin their stomping, clamoring
For their favorite teams, human waves of domination,
Cheering on the band stands battle field, within the
Bleachers of sacred historical fame!
It’s as American, as grandma’s secret recipe for apple pie,
 This blazing sport that we hold so close within our inner souls,
Pledging allegiance before the red, white and blue,
In this nation of freedom and liberty!
What a glorious field of dreams this sport of champions,
Creating heroic figures for generations to look up to,
The game shall live on within these living titan giants,
As long as the American flag, remains this nations
Sacred symbol of ultimate liberation!
So let us all rejoice in the game, cheering on our home teams,
With great prides respect, let the popcorn, peanuts, and
Red hots wrangler, never give up his famous yell,
For we are all Americans, enjoying this sport of champions!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Dedicated to my favorite vendor at work, 
Whom inspired this poem with his version
Of the grandstand hackers famous yell,
Popcorn, peanuts and get your red hots here!
Thanks again my friend John J. Stachowicz, cheri your honored fan!


Copyright © cherl dunn