Baseball seasons here
Starts when summer is near
If the first baseman catches the ball
I hope the ump makes a good call
Eating sunflower seeds
Winning is what we need
That means school being out is near
Until next year
by jake doyle
Shoeless Joe an idiot
and still baseball’s patriot
baseball is his passion
he’s not a subtraction
he was pushed out of baseball
for not being smart at all
lacking knowledge is no crime
remove his name from the grime
Joe Jackson placed in shame
he should be Hall of Fame
I’ll say again he did nothing wrong
He played this game of baseball real strong
His life had boiled down to this one moment
Nerves shaking but could never show it
A lifetime of practice to get to this fall day
Always saying goodbye & never getting to stay
The half dirt covered plate at his feet
As thousands waiting to leave their seat
Years of not knowing if he could ever get here
He looks up and his mind never this clear
Cheers all around fade away
Today was his day
He has but a single task
The question yet to be asked
His stance he choose to switch
And from a knee here comes the pitch
She said yes
When I closed my eyes and fell asleep in the premature hours of dawn
I never dreamed Your face would be
The next I’d look upon
My vehicle came to rest against the square concrete pylon
And those who found me declared to all
“It appears as though he’s gone”
They said I had the look of peace upon my face so fair
And in my lap my hands were laid
As if God placed them there
Just underneath those hands of mine my Gummy Bears were found
How is it that they rested there
And were not tossed around
You chose for me the greatest dad and mother one could have
And my sister; she’s so beautiful
Will you hold her for me Dad
For all of those that knew me knew how much I loved the game
But they also knew I loved you Lord
And someday you’d call my name
I’m grateful that I prayed the prayer to receive you in my heart
Now I know for sure that heaven is real
And we two shall never part
My final game was played that day as I heard you say “well done”
I ran into my dwelling place
Where I’m truly “safe at home”
Dedicated to RJ Ledesma jr who was called from this earth much to soon. May you rest in the Lord's care till we see you again. October 29, 1992 - September 24, 2011
Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?
Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.
And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.
I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep.
Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.
And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.
Not Be Another
No matter what may be Patriot's Play scheme,
None if it ever would spoil Seahawk's dream
And what appears to me to be amazing
Is having a football that people were hazing.
What unpleasant things to a football could you do?
Making it take a bounce not known to be true,
Or suppose something to football you applied
Which made ball slick after it had dried.
How about discovering a doctored up baseball;
Started to curve and then downward would fall,
After surface someone started to scratch;
Maybe for me they might make up a batch.
What if my basketball was underinflated?
And for a while longer we all had waited;
Ball now was much narrower each shot I took
Even if a free throw or could be a hook.
Who me my friend have an unfair advantage;
To my cruddy character apply a long bandage.
And when in Super Bowl, Series or World Cup,
Should never again be another cover up.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
PS. Check out military memories above.
Five thirty, wearily she slides her aching body out of her bed
Fifteen minutes to get herself together and wake his little head
The sun is just peeking over the horizon but they are on the road
Her head's throbbing must stop for coffee to get into mommy mode
Onto the interstate for an hour drive to another big baseball game
Not making big money, no shoe endorsements, not a hint of fame
Her little slugger ties up his cleats and heads out onto the field
Cheering words of encouragement, oh the many smiles it does yield
Whether they win or lose it is always the same, son you played great
He just nods his head with a whatever grin and says what's to eat
Week after week, all through the spring, the routine goes on
Relaxing, yard work, shopping, family parties all foregone
She takes it all in stride staying cool and calm
Just another day in the life of a baseball mom
*Dedicated to all the travel baseball mom's.
You have my utmost respect. Thank you *
Annual Baseball Poem
Sometimes will write poems that can cajole
And what now has become my greatest goal
Is one thousand poems to reach and obtain
Then other poets on this thought try to train.
Why would I want to sit around and wait
When each one of you I want to motivate
And with many readers must beg to differ
Poems will be great never be a whiffer.
After each poem is down dirty and done
You will have hit a horrendous home run
Or be bright pitcher who has much glitter
Who is prominent after pitching a no hitter.
When out in field no errors at all were made
Waiting for World Series sitting in the shade
And have obtained much fortune and fame
After having played in an All Star Game.
I am totally retired with my reins drawn in
And if I had to do this thing all over again
In my thought may be big hole that will gape;
No one should try again when out of shape.
James Thomas Horn