Introspection Baseball Poems | Introspection Poems About Baseball
These Introspection Baseball poems are examples of Introspection poems about Baseball. These are the best examples of Introspection Baseball poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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The sport of ball games is many each summer and each fall.
Within the Major leagues, and the Minors are many whines.
The events that are pitted causes Peewees to bawl.
Excuses like pines and whines, and levying of fines.
Steroidal abuse accusations prevalent are profuse!
Is pretty lady a man, is the handsome man a woman?
Like in cases of people’s races, gander chases goose.
Is the ball player true or a steroid phenomenon.
Albeit I accept the fate entering stadium gate.
Was the coupling consensual or change conventional?
Excitement permeates ball field as contentions dissipate.
I believe in ball games, rising to fame consensual.
Mickey Mantle at bat, an all time world ‘Switch hitter!
Willie Mays ’The say kid Mays’ blessed his days by his phase.
“Mighty Casey at Bat” illustrates proper glitter,
as time switches mantle phase of Mickey and Say kid Mays!
For and in Honor of Debbie Guzzi
And Contest: Play Ball
Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2011
I stand on the plate with the sun in my eyes
the pitcher is ready, a fastball he flies
I swing just as hard as I possibly can
love says "strike one" as I try it again
I choke up on the bat, pull down on my bill
nodding my head, a new pitcher on the hill
it hurls past my chest, just missing my heart
love says "ball one" as the clock again starts
it's the seventh inning stretch, I need the relief
I brush off the dust, no way will I retreat
the coach saunters over, giving a pep talk
as the lines are redrawn on the infield with chalk
the board shows each tally, each inning not close
no intervention from heaven or its holy hosts
and I shut the book on yet, another losing season
I'll still play the game with faith in the reasons
Copyright © Jo Bien | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
Out in the yard past the cherry trees
Over the graves of the grass we’ve cut
In the fading of the summer’s heat
We step out onto the field
Lining the trim, a brown barbed fence
And across, the piss-stained compost pile
The roses need pruning the cherries shriveled up
Mellow green apple buds are sprouting
The leaves are casting their ripened glow
And even some apples are strewn about the ground
Rotting from the outside in
Thanks to the fall from the wind
On this baseball field of ours
There are no bases no mound or a fence
Just the handle of an axe once used for chopping wood
And I’ll swing with my eyes wide open in sight
Watch the apple explode up into the sky
And the clouds have grown heavy with apple delight
So it rains down like shrapnel into the night
Copyright © j.a. kays | Year Posted 2011