These Baseball Spring poems are examples of Spring poems about Baseball. These are the best examples of Baseball Spring poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Batters up…..the tingles start and now we know its spring
All the winter woes are gone and baseball fever sings
Seats are chosen --lucky fans will sit where they can see
Easy chairs for some are best--- the price of them is free
Bull pens hold the players and the feelings there run high
As the batter taps the plate he glances at the sky
Like somewhere there is a baseball god who’ll help him out
Luckily he smacks a low ball—it’s a home run and a shout
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!"
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!
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
I got a little note today
About a trip I always take
It brings me thoughts of summer
And the games we love to play
I've had many good times
And went with a lot of old friends
It is the right of every southsider
To go there to the end
Sometimes the weather is sunny
Others it is dark and gray
It really doesn't matter
As long as they play
I long for this day to get here
Forty Seven days to go
It is the start of something special
It is what we all will dream
So bring on my mighty White sox
I am hoping you do well
Bring home that elusive championship
We all are waiting for it to begin.
Somewhere there’s a baseball
Shivering in the cold
Somewhere there’s a baseball glove
Afraid of growing old.
Somewhere there’s a baseball bat
Some weary cleats and sweat stained hat.
Somewhere there’s a baseball field
Beneath snow’s winter fall
Somewhere dreaming children
Hear the umpire shout
John G. Lawless