Baseball Sonnet Poems | Baseball Poems About Sonnet
These Baseball Sonnet poems are examples of Baseball poems about Sonnet. These are the best examples of Baseball Sonnet poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.
MEGANS HIT - the Baseball Sonnet
There on the deck, I took a practice swing
tormented in the possiblity--
then hope was dashed--I found no hope to bring
up to the plate, when Ump cried out, "Strike 3!"
I was the last to bat--in this last game--
just oh for three, my record said it all!
And in the dugout, faces all the same,
the looks of gloom! Just waiting for my fall!
I took my place, right up there to the plate.
Out on the mound, the picher grinned at me--
as if he hoped to make my swinging late,
or throw me one--I couldn't even see!
He'd walked a batter, waiting on first base,
to tie the score, if we'd get in the race!
"No girl can hit!" I heard the catcher call,
and echoed from the bleachers was the same,
we made our stands, the umpire cried "Play ball!"
(the umpire was my Daddy, in this game.)
I gripped the bat, the windup came too fast!
As did the ball, but where it should have been!
"Strike one!" the umpire yelled at last--
The fastest ball that I have ever seen!
"She'll never swing!" the catchers words for me--
then threw the ball out to the pichers hand!
While out on first, my runner waits to see
if I can swing, or only make a stand!
Right in my face--the picher scouled a bit--
while I choked up--and readied for a hit!
All set to hit--I made it then my dream!
and came the ball--I could not swing at that!
"Strike twoooo!" the umpire made it scream,
then said to me, "You've got to swing the bat!"
The bat it weighed a hundred pounds or so;
"She'll never swing," the pichers eyes did say,
With that he gave his very best, I know!
I glued my eyes--as it screamed straight my way!
I never saw the hitting of the ball!
but won't forget the cracking sound of it!
Nor know again the feeling of it all
of this my very most important hit!
The sound it made--that ev'ryone could hear--
a batters dream--but pichers' greatest fear!
The ball soared hard and high past second base!
then seemed to drop so slowly from above,
as quick as I could get us in the race,
I watched it bounce right off the fielders glove!
The tying run was just ahead of me!
Ole "Never-Steal" now ran like not before!
And right behind, fast as my feet could be
I gave my best! And then I gave some more!
The crowd gave out the seasons wildest plea!
As I yelled to the runner just ahead,
with all the grit that I could find in me,
"I'm going in! And if you stop--you're dead!"
Ole "Never Steal" was giving all he could
and on his heels--I made my promise good!
We saw the ball come by as rounding third!
Not once a hesitation in it all--
and as the umpire watched without a word--
he swept his arms, to make the tying call!
The score was tied--third baseman set to throw--
now ready at home plate, the catcher stood--
and through it all--my only thought was GO!
but if I did--I'd have to make it good!
I knew the ball was thrown down to home plate!
The catcher poised, and glued where he should be!
I had to slide, and heard the ball hit late!
"She's SAFE! She's SAFE!" my Daddy yelled to me!
Now layed to rest--our coaches greatest fear--
the only game we won--throughout the year!
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2014
A Lizard Sonnet
If you travel to escape the small lizard on your back
You will eventually be outside your parents’ house
Only they have long since go
Someone else lives there perhaps a child sleep in your bed
Dreaming your dreams
You walk down a street where you used to play
But no one knows, and the sense of loss overwhelms you
Swallow hard not to cry because your memory is untrue.
You left to get a small-minded town, poverty, and screams
In the night, but it was worth going back to remain you what
An awful place you left.
I have a small lizard in the kitchen have tried
To kill it because it is grey and without redeeming colours that
Could make it into a pet but it is too quick and hide in corners
I can`t reach so it can live for now.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2016
Seasonal nightmares grip all Astros fans,
Who dream, as I, one year might end in joy,
Torturing loyals for infinite spans -
My grandpa knew, and had, since when a boy;
Ev’ry suicide squeeze that plates no life,
Or failed double-steal which burgles all hope,
Temps we passionate souls to grab a knife,
And cut misery short as sorrows mope;
Yet, extreme measures never help at all,
Just ask Clemens, Pettitte, and Nolan Ryan;
Each of them came so that Houston in fall,
Could see much more than men, like me, cryin’.
Insanity though brings comfort to fear,
Reminding us, that next, will be our year.
- In celebration of the 55th consecutive year
my beloved Astros have failed to win a
Copyright © Phillip Garcia | Year Posted 2016