These Baseball Free Verse poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Baseball. These are the best examples of Baseball Free Verse poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
It wasn't because he brought her flowers....
It wasn't because he wined and dined her....
She loved him because he spent hours on the computer
trying to track down the 1970 Brooks Robinson baseball card
for their oldest son's birthday
She loved him because he played with their kids, even after a hard day at work...
baseball games in the big front yard...
cheering them on...
not getting angry when the youngest son
knocked a homer
straight through the living room window
To be called ..
~ Grandma is a Honor ~
I have been blessed with 4 Grandchildren
~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb " He is God's Angel ~
~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~
For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
Time passed another gift to see
we are " Mickes" and Loved
Our Dad held the title in Baseball
~ that's how we roll ~
those children are Grandmas hero's
The Irish they love big and Family is everything
The brothers will protect the beautiful sister
~ as many lads will be calling ~
Every time my Grandson hits a home run
There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand
It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs
~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
either baseball or Art ~ you shall find your gift given
These children have been blessed~
~ a beauty to hard to describe
If you think not ~~ Take a look at the Mom
That girl can stop Traffic
after raising three and still~
"Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "
May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Just like you!
A subject of sweetest softness
Cats can be loved too
Graig Nettles as a Yankee wore the number nine
the New York Yankees in the seventies very fine
I’m Red Sox fan but a baseball fan first
as you can tell baseball is my first thirst
ever since the seventies I was a baseball fan
Lou Brock and Yaz and Yaz the main man
baseball my sport of choice it’s my only game
and the Boston Red Sox have plenty of fame
I’ve been to Boston a few times what a city
The game that taught me how to breathe
eat,sleep,and dream of the thrilling play
learning to appreciate my teammates
but,also to respect my opponents
Sleeping with my leather glove
before a big game
dreaming of making the play
that makes a difference
knowing that no one player
was more important than another
practice together,play together
breathe together as one unit
Late spring and early summer
fresh cut grass and dragged fields
chalk lines so straight
you didn't want to be the first
to smudge and kick up the dust
so we always jumped over them
..........in the beginning,
but after the first pitch....game on
the lines may have been drawn before the game
but the game is played between the lines
it's a new world....it's a new day
It's still a game of little boys
now being played by big boys
and big business.....
how the game can change
and get you to breathe
a different kind of air
it's only a game
It is cold out now
but don't you worry
Spring is right around the corner
and will be here soon
The sun will be bright and we might burn
but it is better to be hot
and to sweat
than to freeze your toes
Two months from now it all will start
the crack of the bat the cheer of the crowd
Every little boys dream
to watch their heroes play
So let's all have a some patience
and the days will pass
and before you know
that season will be here
Life is a baseball out
When grounded in foul
actions, words, or thoughts
it becomes a strike,
but can't get you out.
Line driven into 3rd base seats
may hurt somebody, but usually
Over swinging makes a big mistake,
for when someone catches you,
you look stupid.
But at times
you guess right
(she really does love you, "c" was the right answer, that promotions was waiting
willfully for you, the kiss of a marriage was true)
and the crowd stands in awe.
The silence screaming,
and the ball just barely leaps over the fence.
All, everything in the world seems happy,
Unless, you catch a sight
of the pitcher.
I want to go to Wrigley Field
Stand behind home plate
And point my finger at the left field wall
I do it to remember baseball
What it used to be
It used to be you could go to climb the fence and get in to Wrigley for free
Now you can't get in for less than a small fortune
Steroids and wall street
I want to stand at home plate
And point my finger for a better world
Babe Ruth was certainly associated with the ruling class
But he played a sport of the people
And he represented a team whose city has some of the ,most ardent socialists in the world
So I know I'm reaching here
But I want to stand at Wrigley field
In the heart of america
And point my finger like babe ruth
Very unwitting representative
Of the nations working class
Pointing my finger to the beyond
In the heart of america
Pointing my finger to the beyond
Toward what's better.
Toward what's more.
Towards what America
Is supposed to be.
In the dirt of the diamond, my son’s eyes
Burn below the rim of his red hat
And he pulls his hand back,
looks at the score yet again,
digs his small toe in as his chest rises.
From my place in the stands
Every muscle has become tense
And my heart is pounding in my chest
As he draws his arm back and then forward
Releasing his breath and the tiny spinning ball,
A wild pitch bouncing off the wire fence.
And I finally exhale, wonder if he knows
I am throwing with him and that was my wild pitch
because I forgot to breath when we released the ball
And I was trying to throw it slow.
And I should just let him throw the ball
Because I am not a good pitcher
Because how can I possibly throw with him
When he is a lefty and I am a right.
But all of me grows tense, as he has the ball yet again,
And then we are winding up again
Because I cannot let go
Because his dreams are now my dreams
Because I don’t know how to love him
Any other way. So I will wear his little hat and
Must remember to exhale when we release the ball.
And I can play with him for a few more years
So we wind up, and we pitch, and that fast ball down the middle,
It wasn’t even trying to be avoided,
And so I know he threw that one
Because he is ready for the fast ball
And I would prefer we pitch it slow,
Just for a little while longer.
Long enough for him to know I am out there with him.
Long enough for me to learn how to let a fast ball fly.