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Life Baseball Poems | Life Poems About Baseball

These Life Baseball poems are examples of Life poems about Baseball. These are the best examples of Life 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… 
And ‘Sooner Magic’ is 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.


Details | Narrative | |

Baseball in Heaven

My grandfather and I had a special relationship.

When I was young we lived near his home in Baltimore.  But, my family moved away from 
Baltimore when I was five and we lived most of my life in another state far away from my 
grandfather.  Whenever he called, however, I was the one grandchild he always wanted to 
talk to so we could discuss his beloved Baltimore Orioles.  I was the one grandchild who 
followed sports closely and always remained a true Baltimore sports fan.

Later in life, I learned that my grandfather was actually a gifted baseball player himself when 
he was young.  In those days, he would explain, professional baseball players did not make 
enough money to support a family so he had to make up his mind to either play baseball or 
get married and raise a family.  As it turned out, his love for baseball was only surpassed by 
his love for my grandmother and, although he hung on to the newspaper clippings that 
labeled him a “can’t miss professional baseball prospect”, he hung up his cleats and glove, 
married my grandmother and went out to find a “real” job.

But his love for the game survived and year in and year out, he and I discussed the 
intricacies of the game and enjoyed or lamented each baseball season based on the 
successes and/or failures of the Baltimore Orioles.  As crummy as the Baltimore bums are 
today, I was fortunate enough to experience and share many more successful seasons than 
poor ones during those limited years that I shared life with this amazing man.

I always felt sorry for my grandfather, considering him a victim of poor timing.  Had he 
been born about 50 years later in life, he would not have had to pick between being a 
baseball player or earning a living – in fact, with his talent, he could have earned a much 
better than average living while enjoying the one thing he loved most in life.

When my grandfather passed away, I was sure that he was joining a heavenly nine to once 
again strap on his spikes and don the leather.  Without a doubt, they must play baseball in 
heaven.  And I wait for the day that I sit in the heavenly bleachers and cheer on a young 
grandfather playing this wonderful game with other boys of summer.

(Inspired by, “is there baseball in heaven”, by Constance, A Rambling Poet)


Details | Free verse | |

A Slow Pitch

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.


Details | Sonnet | |

Megan's Hit

        MEGAN'S HIT
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!

                    II.

"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!"
and then I vowed to get us in the 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!
   
                   III.

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!

                   IV.

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!

                V.

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


Details | Couplet | |

Unknown

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.


Details | Quatrain | |

Spiritual Baseball

If I were to venture a sports analogy,
I'd say life most resembles baseball spiritually.
We spend eons preparing in the dugout,
Then nervously strut out to take our time at bat.

The rival coach directing our adversaries
Is the Father Of Lies and man's false philosophies.
His goal is to prevent us from reaching home plate safely.
His team's minions outnumber us near-infinitely.

The rival pitcher has icy practiced steel-like nerves,
And he's struck out many with foul spitballs and curves.
He pitches things like sloth, envy, greed, media idolatry,
Addictions, “Pro Choice”, perversions, porn and other immorality.

Our beloved Coach whispers to us from the dugout.
HE famously scored grand slams when HE went to bat.
If we listen to Our Coach, and with spirit swing fast and hard,
We'll knock those pitcher’s balls clean out of the yard.

HE knows we won’t always hit solid homers,
So HE doesn’t expect us to succeed just as loners.
We might on our swing just make it to first base,
But the team batters behind us can help us reach home base.

Even though the adversary’s minions outnumber us,
Only our choices will allow them to defeat us.
So with our Coach and team we must stand up,
When the Great Umpire of all calls “Batter Up!”.


Details | Ballad | |

One Day You'll Make It Girl

Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Poetic Lyrics By Thomas Lam Hsi



The Golden Girl...'jus isn't you...dear...in life...there are many roles.

Is sis...The One...or...am...I...'jus another...one...Mom 'n Dad...what's...my role?

Dolls...maybe the same...but...here's another game...money's tight...can't you see?

Chad's...so sweet...sis and he...well...oh well...if...I try harder...could I be?


If life is hard...it only gets...harder...girl...sometimes there...are no answers!

Mom 'n Dad...lied...love alone...isn't enough...life...though...sometimes...answers!

When the well...is deeper...the pain...grows 'n grows...girl...hang on through!

Golden Girls...dolls and boys...the streets...are longer...till you see...it through!


Girl...one day...you'll make it...the world...is the oyster...and...you're the pearl!

Girl...one day...you'll make it...your sister's...not the only...one...you're the pearl!

When life's harder...the pain...lasts longer...'n golden things...can't make...
A Golden Heart!

When life's harder...the pain...lasts longer...'n golden things...can't make...
A Golden Heart!


Christmas...with...my...only dream...it really...does seem...a little longer...and
Stronger!

Christmas...with...my...only dream...it really...does seem...a little longer...and
Stronger!

One day...I made it...Girl...I made it...I made it...Mom 'n Dad...lied...A Golden Girl!

One day...I made it...Girl...I made it...I made it...Mom 'n Dad...lied...A Golden Girl!


When the road...is too painfull...and the blood...stains through...stay true!

When the road...is too painfull...and the blood...stains through...stay true!


Details | Rhyme | |

Do You Remember

Do you remember when love was more than a four letter word
And holding hands walking down the street
Doing a matinee on a Saturday
Feeling the rhythm of the music in your feet
Playing baseball on an abandoned lot
And how the girls could turn your head
Sneaking that cigarette behind the house
Getting your first kiss and turning red
A nickel bought a candy bar
A penny bought a picture of a movie star
Go for a Sunday ride in the family car
A baseball glove dangling from your handle bar
Do you remember when Mom read us a nursery rhyme
Hey kids, what time is it? It's Howdy Doody Time
The Falcon and Shadow were fighting crime
You could find anything in the Five and Dime
In the drug store, you could get a cherry coke
The smell of the bus when it left all that smoke
Playing chase tag on the street at night
Running through fields, flying a kite
Picking flowers for Mom on the way home from school
Meeting your classmates at the community pool
School shopping right before Labor Day
Saving your money by putting pennies away
In spite of the hardships and all of the strife
Honesty was a way of life
We grew inside from what we learned
We didn't accept it if it wasn't earned
Pep rallies before the football game
We knew each shop and the owner by name
Do you remember when life was innocent
Do you ever wonder where it went?


Details | Ballad | |

One Day You'll Make It Girl

Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Poetic Lyrics By Thomas Lam Hsi


THERE IS ONLY ONE TRUE GOD...THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY...WHO ALONE CAN
SAVE FROM Satan...who plays 'all' roles...the devil...the 'Lord Jesus'...
the 'Father'...the 'Holy Spirit'...all 'Other Gods'...and 'alien gods'...HE...THE
LORD JESUS CHRIST HIMSELF IS FULLY GOD AND MAN...AND HE ALONE...
IS THE ONLY WAY TO GOD THE FATHER...and to an Actual Heaven!



The Golden Girl...'jus isn't you...dear...in life...there are many roles.

Is sis...The One...or...am...I...'jus another...one...Mom 'n Dad...what's...my role?

Dolls...maybe the same...but...here's another game...money's tight...can't you see?

Chad's...so sweet...sis and he...well...oh well...if...I try harder...could I be?


If life is hard...it only gets...harder...girl...sometimes there...are no answers!

Mom 'n Dad...lied...love alone...isn't enough...life...though...sometimes...answers!

When the well...is deeper...the pain...grows 'n grows...girl...hang on through!

Golden Girls...dolls and boys...the streets...are longer...till you see...it through!


Girl...one day...you'll make it...the world...is the oyster...and...you're the pearl!

Girl...one day...you'll make it...your sister's...not the only...one...you're the pearl!

When life's harder...the pain...lasts longer...'n golden things...can't make...
A Golden Heart!

When life's harder...the pain...lasts longer...'n golden things...can't make...
A Golden Heart!


Christmas...with...my...only dream...it really...does seem...a little longer...and
Stronger!

Christmas...with...my...only dream...it really...does seem...a little longer...and
Stronger!

One day...I made it...Girl...I made it...I made it...Mom 'n Dad...lied...A Golden Girl!

One day...I made it...Girl...I made it...I made it...Mom 'n Dad...lied...A Golden Girl!


When the road...is too painfull...and the blood...stains through...stay true!

When the road...is too painfull...and the blood...stains through...stay true!




Details | ABC | |

Memory Lane

Everyone does it time to time in each day
From your careless mistakes to a child at play
Sneaking the babysitter's cigarettes
Having that stray dog follow you home, then asking to keep it as a pet
A trip to the lake on the fourth of July
Then come to realize, thirty plus years have gone by
These type of reflections are kept in a special place
Some result in tears, but most bring a smile to the face
Some regret, some bad, they are related with a degree of disdain
These are all a walk down memory lane
Your bicycle has a flat, your first do it yourself tire repair kit
The shoestring that was used to repair your favorite baseball mitt
Putting playing cards on the spokes of the bike to make it roar
Mom yelling at you for coming in and out of the front door
Summer vacation, kickball until dark
Cutting through neighborhood yards causing the dogs to bark
Losing a baseball down a street drain
Does this take you back to a stroll down memory lane
Selling glass bottles at the store to get a treat
Gong home for supper, disappointed, it's Thursday night, night of the mystery 
meat
Friday a trip to the drive in
Summer is just about over, how depressing, it's school time again


Details | Free verse | |

hitting softballs by the field house

“yeah man, call out
‘aye laddie’ to claim the
ball.” we laughed, and he
hit a grounder, followed by a
pop fly, followed by another
grounder, all thrown back to
the proximity of the pitcher. 
“what’s it gonna be like tomorrow?”
I asked. “In the 70s...I haven't hit
since last spring.” Some clouds
loomed overhead and my hairs stood
on end. He hit a short one and paused,
“What are your dinner plans? I 
got a few pizzas in the freezer.” 
“Wow, that’ll be great weather for the
frisbee tournament then.” The ball
tuckered out of my glove. Dammnit. 
He cranked out another one, and the guy
out left managed to haul it in,
“Aye laddie!” The sun peaked out
a bit, and I saw where the clouds 
would end for a time. “Aye laddie!”
That one, I caught. 
Reds and oranges over the trees, and
none of us believed in sun sets.