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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 | Year Posted 2014

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 | Year Posted 2015

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 | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

THE COACH


His is the whispering voice echoing within the athlete’s field of dreams,
The harkening leader, a teacher of strength and confidence, whom takes
The raw abilities given unto an individual then molds it, shapes it until
This natural turns into a legend, to be remembered throughout all time,
Behold the sports mentor, known as a coach! 
Undefinable is the terminology of what makes a courageous role model,
Is it the sacrifices made in the name of a sporting event, or his brave spirit
To overcome obstacles challenges, set before him as a human being! 
Nay it’s the humanity, compassion dwelling within this individual, he whom
 Is willing to fight and drive another to their utmost degree of performance,
Bringing out the best of their athletic abilities no matter the cost, the 
Show must go on!
Honor bound by humility, he whom stands in the shadows of living
Giants, a ghost figure of fame's silhouetted legends, who walks off 
Into the footnotes of history, smiling at a faded photograph, signed
By a remembrances talent, simply reading to my coach, I’ll never
Be able to repay what you’ve done for me, or meant to me,
Sincerely always yours, the natural!
At the cracking of the first balls sounding, or the clashing of
Helmet’s bashing, alone wolf strolls across the golden
Evergreen battlefields of this modern day colosseum!
A scout seeking the next gladiator, to fight in this arena
Of combatant’s best skilled division of honor, valor,
And glories finest!
Behold a taskmaster of men’s souls, endurance's judgement
Caller testing the winds of destiny, listening for that distant
Voice of hungers desire of a champion waiting to be discovered!
Grasping upon the heels of an uncertain breeze, this man thus embarks
Searching beneath every chained linked fence school yard, or back
Alleys scrimmage field, then by fates chance, he sees the next
Rising star to shine in brilliances appendages uniform!
What is the true meaning of life anyway, is it not to make
A difference in this world, for which we are all born upon,
And this is the reason, a coach wakes up every morning!
For this man’s everlasting legacy, is to listen for that 
Voice crying out in the wilderness of the inner city streets,
Or the suburban outskirts of now where’s vile, and bring
The gifted home, to that stadium of fame and recognition!
God grants the blessings of the athletic talented to rise up,
But it takes a leader of men to spot this raw force, and tenderly
Nurture it, until it is finely hewed in the fires of training flame,
With respects confidence, the coach tests the metal of the natural,
Then releases the next Gladiator unto the field of honor,
Shouting go get hum boy, you are the best I’ve ever seen!
As a newly born star shines above, a shadow man walks
Off again, writing another line in the annals of history,
Smiling at a faded photograph, simply stated to 
The coach always, and sincerely yours, the natural!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN







  

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2016

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 | Year Posted 2013

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 | Year Posted 2006

Details | Light Poetry | |

PITCHING IN


 
Gently, on a baked ceiling of a park a boy ruffles my fluttering skirt like a naughty, vagrant wing, and picks a baseball on the grass… this smaller kid of almond eyes clutches it with a longing to play, but he could not; his legs gave way. Yet, he claps like all the other kids such a radiant joy with wobbly feet, that I liven him up to pitch for one round, while the team rallies for a new swing. Taking in the fire of the crimson day, a lean figure of almond eyes takes his spot grasping the orb as if it were a white globe. In a precise twirl, the fast ball reels, curving much higher, splitting the air until those limbs swivel off freely… the batter out: through joy and pain, one young limping boy of summer’s dream is never going to be the same again. -------------- 12/8/2015 Contest: Oil Paintings 4 & 5 of Eve Roper By nette onclaud

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015

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 | Year Posted 2015

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 | Year Posted 2006

Details | Light Poetry | |

BASEBALL AND THE WALL

its not fixs
some hit quick
its flys  high
close to the sky
than it  fall
its
BASEBALL AND THE WALL

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Reminders

              If you take it all
                      then you strip it down
                     what do you hold
                         in the recesses
                                          of your mind
               Do you dwell within
                          the self
                                yourself sees?
                      or are you the stranger
                           that walks on the edges
                                       of what you wish
                                               your reality
                                                 to be?
                 To become
                    is always held within
                                          the soul
                         the reminders
                                          within
                                                 our minds
                               release the tension
                                           behold the wonder
                                   open up
                                         you hold the keys
                               to so many possibilities 
                                    what is it
                                                you will be?

Copyright © Kim Cramb | Year Posted 2016