Verse Baseball Poems

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Details | Free verse |
Remember me... A fresh sweet scent of last gardenia on yesterday's linen sheets Remember me... A cherry bud in your backyard orchard revealing first pink shades in once upon a soft blown kiss Remember me... An early summer sharing your beach towel and coconut butter Remember me... A roaring log fire on a stormy night in the hallway to your bedroom door Remember me... a short~lived star that fallen into your arms then faded to nothingness upon the empty shore. Remember me ... The blissful moment The saddest song in your forevermore

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014




Details | Free verse |
And there you were - 
blue cap and jersey, white pants
bat held high above the shoulder
cocked and ready to swat one out
in that perfect stance of yours...
Shoulder turned, name half visible
(Proud you were to wear that name
Proud was I you wore that name)

Yes there you were - 
smiling that smile of yours...
Cocky, confident, ready-or-not smile
The kind of smile of someone who
was exactly where he belonged
exactly where he wanted to be
in that very place, that very moment
doing what he was born to do
Fulfilling his destiny...

(Yes that's my boy out there
Yes he IS a good player isn't he?)

So there you were - 
An all-star you were, oh yes, a star
a shining, glittering star but:
Stars are born to flame out, die
We are all born to die it is said
Seems only the best of us die young
and far too soon, too soon
You died too soon...




Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
Coach Dad It is a magic time when a child ventures Into the world, spreading wings, Beginning the oft painful process of moving from the nest to the sky. And it is a fragile time, where first experiences Weigh heavily on shaping the direction In which young life begins to move And often whether it moves at all It is a trying time, of fear and nervousness One little step out on their own The start of something bold and beautiful The molding of a young child's eye Much is made of parents and peers, Oft unaddressed is the role of others Teachers and coaches, a collective entity Not dissimilar from fathers and mothers The torch of responsibility being passed If only for a brief moment No more clinging to the safety and comfort of what is already a norm and known Encouragement or unkind words So often a matter of chance and moods Have mighty impacts on growing hearts Precious opportunities to help a growing life Young minds and hearts right on the surface We remember our coaches, good and bad Caring or not, patience or none, The struggles, thin times and thick A team of seven year olds Is not unlike a litter of unruly puppies How will they ever pay attention? Give them a ball, a glove, and a game! Pride, courage, athleticism, self-confidence All showcased for the world to see Taking turns and building bonds Grasping much more than a newfound skill If you can stand to be measured, and fail by that measure, even repeatedly But come back from it, you'll forever have One more vital skill in life’s toolbox One youngster will not win the game alone But the team can, and its joy Is multiplied many times over. All these things and more can be taught. Whether it be on the field or off Teamwork, respect and camaraderie Will forever be entrenched in the mind Of a well instructed boy or girl 5/4/16 © Tom Quigley and Tim Smith

Copyright © Tom Quigley | Year Posted 2016




Details | Free verse |
ROWNTREE PARK

I have found green here
bordered by white lines
that meet then veer off
into infinity, perfect symmetry,
peppered by flashing yellow dandelions.
These, and more, colours
I have found here.
I have found dreams here
in the bats that sing for singles
and scream for homers,
in the cleats that pound
a rhythm as they slap the ground
with mercurial delight.
Oh, the sights and sounds
that I have found here.
I have found the cycles of life here
in the grass below and the sky above,
in the safe and the out,
I have found peace.
I have found youth here,
 for here I am not an old man
barely able to walk,
I am forever ten
as I round the bases and slide
headfirst into home,
the feel of dirt in my face
and the smell of death in the tag.

Copyright © Phil Capitano | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
My room at the Hyatt 
Smelled like my ex-wife
She didn't have oodles of class
Or wasn't overly fancy
So, it must be that aroma of 
Almost masking what had
Taken place the night before
We greeted each other with
A welcoming suspicion 
The bathroom lighting flawless 
Standing in the mirror with
Perfect tan and bright white A
T-shirt
Khaki slacks pulled high and
Wise guy hair cut
I wonder if Capone ever went to see
The Cubbies play
Beautiful sunny day, not too warm
Plenty of room on the mezzanine
At Wrigley 
A pleasantly safe distance from the
Big middle aged guys with
Some other man's name on their back ' s
Exhaling brat breath
And beer farts 
the Windy City loves their team




Copyright © Brian Martin | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Can I Be:

The lyrics in your song? 
the words of your poem? 
the paint on your canvas? 
the script for your movie? 
the groove in your dance? 
the ink in your pen? 
the twinkle in your eye? 
the beat of your heart? 
the "star"of your dreams 
your every desire? 
your early sunrise? 
your place of comfort? 
And most of all 
Can I always be the love of your life? 




11-4-16
Alexis Y

Copyright © Alexis Y. | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
A Sonnet To Growing Older

My heart now speaks to me of ageless things
 Of solitary walks down country lanes
 Of quilted calico with simpler schemes
 Unhurried times, a pause, as quiet rain

 In memory drenched, the budding heart reviews
 Her nightly liaisons in twilight realms
 Illusive childlike carousel renews
 Majestic pensive thoughts and hopeful hymns;

 With joy rekindles ! Magic carousel
 It moves round and round in measured beat
 Bewitching power of music sounds compel
 The ageless ones to rambunctious retreat !

 Unhallowed fruit of age-
 My heart can sing !
 Redeeming time to catch the brass-bound ring

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2017

Details | Blank verse |
As age catches on us 
Would we be found enjoying the swings
No, never out of shame

As age catches on us 
Would we be found playing marbles or flying kites
No, never out of shame

As age catches on us
Would we be foun d jumping in the puddles
No , never out of shame 

As age catches on us 
Would we be found chasing girls or teasing them
No never out of shame

As age catches on us 
Would we be found flirting away
No, never out of shame

As age catches on us
We go to  temples and let life slip by
Yes , all do it there's no shame

As age catches on us 
We would be found talking and praying for our end
Yes , all do it , there's no shame

As age catches on us
We stop going places, meeting people n having fun
Yez , its a done thing n there's no shame.

Copyright © bawa talwar | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
Pretty princesses
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Very beautiful
Just like you!

Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

His is the whispering voice echoing within the athlete’s field of dreams,
The harkening leader, a teacher of strength and confidence, whom takes
The raw abilities given unto an individual then molds it, shapes it until
This natural turns into a legend, to be remembered throughout all time,
Behold the sports mentor, known as a coach! 
Undefinable is the terminology of what makes a courageous role model,
Is it the sacrifices made in the name of a sporting event, or his brave spirit
To overcome obstacles challenges, set before him as a human being! 
Nay it’s the humanity, compassion dwelling within this individual, he whom
 Is willing to fight and drive another to their utmost degree of performance,
Bringing out the best of their athletic abilities no matter the cost, the 
Show must go on!
Honor bound by humility, he whom stands in the shadows of living
Giants, a ghost figure of fame's silhouetted legends, who walks off 
Into the footnotes of history, smiling at a faded photograph, signed
By a remembrances talent, simply reading to my coach, I’ll never
Be able to repay what you’ve done for me, or meant to me,
Sincerely always yours, the natural!
At the cracking of the first balls sounding, or the clashing of
Helmet’s bashing, alone wolf strolls across the golden
Evergreen battlefields of this modern day colosseum!
A scout seeking the next gladiator, to fight in this arena
Of combatant’s best skilled division of honor, valor,
And glories finest!
Behold a taskmaster of men’s souls, endurance's judgement
Caller testing the winds of destiny, listening for that distant
Voice of hungers desire of a champion waiting to be discovered!
Grasping upon the heels of an uncertain breeze, this man thus embarks
Searching beneath every chained linked fence school yard, or back
Alleys scrimmage field, then by fates chance, he sees the next
Rising star to shine in brilliances appendages uniform!
What is the true meaning of life anyway, is it not to make
A difference in this world, for which we are all born upon,
And this is the reason, a coach wakes up every morning!
For this man’s everlasting legacy, is to listen for that 
Voice crying out in the wilderness of the inner city streets,
Or the suburban outskirts of now where’s vile, and bring
The gifted home, to that stadium of fame and recognition!
God grants the blessings of the athletic talented to rise up,
But it takes a leader of men to spot this raw force, and tenderly
Nurture it, until it is finely hewed in the fires of training flame,
With respects confidence, the coach tests the metal of the natural,
Then releases the next Gladiator unto the field of honor,
Shouting go get hum boy, you are the best I’ve ever seen!
As a newly born star shines above, a shadow man walks
Off again, writing another line in the annals of history,
Smiling at a faded photograph, simply stated to 
The coach always, and sincerely yours, the natural!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN







  

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2016

Details | Blank verse |
A young boy that loved the game
Would always practice and never rest
Because he always wished someday 
To play with the very best

Dad and son played together
Bonding with games of catch
Both together for love of the game
Which no one else could match

Then one morning the man awoke
To go practice with his team
And when he arrived at the field
Its grass was an amazing green

It didn’t look in anyway close
To the way it was before
And his teammates were now all different
And there were so so many more

As he ran to take his position
His teammates caught his eye
They were all the baseball legends
That he was passing by

He thought how was it possible
That these greats were there to play
Because he knew that they were all
His heroes that passed away

He walked up to a player
Whom he knew to be Babe Ruth
To get an answer to what was happening
And he only wanted the truth

The great man thought the easiest way
For a young man who’d been playing since seven
Was to tell him that they were a player short
And he was needed in baseball heaven

The young man grinned with a child’s delight
And now knew he wanted to stay
Because God granted him more than his wish
He could now play with the best everyday

Copyright © Wade Greenlee | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
                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

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
UNITY STATED! We are cool. We sweat. We shoot. We hit. This is our game we play. Yes, we are the American way. We are fame. We are the success. We compete. We project. This is the game we play. Basketball NBA! We thrive. We catch. We are strategized. We depict. This is our game day. We are the American way. We compete. We project. We are fame. We are the success. Football NFL! A sure thing we have. We are the thrill. We are enjoyed. We are the players. We are the sport. This is the game we play. Yes, we are an American way. We are skilled with our toys. We compete. We score. We are hyperactivity. We are the National Hockey League! We are the team. We are the competitors. We are the wow. We the game all love. This is our pastime and sport. Yes, we are the universal recreation. We are competitive. We are the babes. We are ready to win the game. We compete to excel. Baseball Major League! A sure thing we have! Unity Stated - team sports - get involve! ______________________________________| Penned June 16, 2015!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
The winds of March have tried their best,
To prepare the field for play,
But the ground has not yet dried,
of the melted snows of winter.

Puddles wait where runners slide,
And where the batter stands,
No grass grows where the infield plays,
And sparse is the turf where the outfield roams.

No lines or poles to relate fair to foul,
Or screens to block missed throws,
Nor walls to cause a caromed ball,
Or to impede a home run’s flight.

No groundskeepers to make things neat,
Or bleachers from which to cheer,
Nor umps to shout their balls and strikes,
Or dugouts from which to taunt.

But when the mud is dried and cracked,
And the grass has turned to green,
Players return to recover skills,
Held captive by winter’s cold.

Nothing fancy, not major league,
Just a game of ball to be played,
And the field, now ready, responds to all,
With fun and hits and errors.

Jerry Troiano 12-12-15

Copyright © Jerry Troiano | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
It’s the great American pass time that will never die,
The thundering sport called baseball, as the grand
Old flag waves in the breeze, of everlasting freedom above
The sacred stadium on opening day!
It’s the roaring of the exploding crowds, as their team
Players are called out by name, from the dug-outs of
The futures unknown hall of fame!
The birthing of a brand new season as the first ball
Is tossed out, by the celebrity guest, and the umpire
Screams, those wondrous words, LETS PLAY BALL!
It’s the sounding crack at the bat, by heroes of legendary
Status, champion defenders of their hometown pride,
These athletes of speed, agility, and epic skill!
Within their uniforms of fame, these iconic players
Are ready for the game to begin, in this arena of
Liberation’s legion of winners, the phrase home run
Says it all, on the scoreboard screen of reality!
In the stadium you can smell the blending of the familiar
Aroma’s the freshly cut grass, human sweat, and
Excitements anticipation building to a feverous pitch!
The grandstands hawker’s, yelling out loud, their famous
Words of wetted appetites endurance, “popcorn, peanuts,
Get your red hots here.”
These gentlemen pitchers with their own throwing rights
Of fames classification, tossing tempting wares, towards
The eager hands of their hungry patrons!
The thundering fans begin their stomping, clamoring
For their favorite teams, human waves of domination,
Cheering on the band stands battle field, within the
Bleachers of sacred historical fame!
It’s as American, as grandma’s secret recipe for apple pie,
 This blazing sport that we hold so close within our inner souls,
Pledging allegiance before the red, white and blue,
In this nation of freedom and liberty!
What a glorious field of dreams this sport of champions,
Creating heroic figures for generations to look up to,
The game shall live on within these living titan giants,
As long as the American flag, remains this nations
Sacred symbol of ultimate liberation!
So let us all rejoice in the game, cheering on our home teams,
With great prides respect, let the popcorn, peanuts, and
Red hots wrangler, never give up his famous yell,
For we are all Americans, enjoying this sport of champions!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Dedicated to my favorite vendor at work, 
Whom inspired this poem with his version
Of the grandstand hackers famous yell,
Popcorn, peanuts and get your red hots here!
Thanks again my friend John J. Stachowicz, cheri your honored fan!


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
BASEBALL IS THE GAME

A game embedded in the soul of America.
Baseball spans generations.
Father to son, father to son and so on.
It is a mirror of our culture and history.

Icons like Ruth, Gehrig, Robinson, Mays and Schwarber
Teams like the mighty Yankees, Phightin Phils and Cubbies.
Baseball is a passionately regional sport.
Each stadium reflecting a team and regions personality.

Each pitch is a drama within itself.
The pitcher eyes the catcher for the sign.
The batter, bat cocked, waits transfixed.
Tension fills the air-outcome unknown.

Fielders move in all directions at the crack of the bat.
A wave of anticipation ripples through the crowd.
A number of possibilities can happen next. 
 Double, single, home run, great catch-which will it be.

Inning after inning-mostly nine but sometimes more.
No time limits-great in a life filled with them.
Shorts and shirt sleeves-no winter jackets needed.
Languid summer days spent  at the game.

Thrilling tension and nail biting action,
interspersed with calm routine.
Organized chaos and local flavor,

Copyright © Oliver McKeithan | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
I can watch them again,
grown men at a children's game,
the glory of the Show
on the TV screen.

For a while
I couldn’t watch,
knowing 
I’d been close.
A phenom  
Double A at 18
90+ fastball,
but it didn’t move.
And in Triple A
and spring training
for the Show
they ate it up. 

When I tried harder
my arm blew up
rotator cuff - tendinitis
epicondylar fasciatus
Tommy John
physio, drugs, steroids.
Hope springs eternal
but nothing helped 
enough. 

Now I sit in this bar,
mush for brains 
just like my arm. 
Don’t  care that 
drugs and alcohol
don’t mix
as I watch them 
knowing almost
is worse than
never.


Copyright © D.W. Rodgers | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Season end
Baseball bats will soon be quiet.
As football season takes a kick
Golf ball will be put away so a president can go to work.
 Hockey sticks will soon hit the puck
And baseballs will go in the net.
The summer season is scheduled to end.
Hello winter let it begin.

Copyright © Harold Hunt sr | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
Romantic, close
A subject of sweetest softness
Cats can be loved too

Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
The narrow tunnel, darkened by shadows of denial;
my vessel of hope, adrift on possibilities.
A regretful mist hangs heavy in this melancholy place.
The haunting echo's of could-have-beens stalking close behind,
as I search for a spark of light at every turn.
Unable to turn around this voyage of time, 
I will accept the fait that awaits me at the end.

I wonder..........
Will you be there?......

Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |
You may feel about the planet what
you feel about a great baseball team or band:
that once there was a moment when, unknown
to us at the time, we convened
and lost and found ourselves in what we created.

Who should I thank for this day?
A fresh-mown lawn is a robin's repast.
A bear a black bear a rolling delicately dancing
graceful as silence sailing through the ferns and understory
unafraid and in no hurry.

My musician referral service, vacation rental business,
nonprofit management system, plant identification database,
great American songbook and anthology of poems. Coach says
in a thousand years back and forth games like lacrosse and soccer
will be played against genetically engineered primates

but baseball will be played solely by humans.
In a thousand years, amen.





Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |
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 - sweat stained hat.

Somewhere there’s a baseball field
Beneath snow’s winter fall

Somewhere dreaming children
Hear the umpire shout

“Play Ball”.



John G. Lawless



submitted to – Batter Up – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Debbie Guzzi

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |
I like immigrants, immigration. Legal immigration, Jane
passionately corrects. Actually my goal is a borderless world.
That's a new idea to her.
Gathering the neighborhood like family.
The men discuss sterilizing welfare mothers. I say You're working
      around the edges,
humanity has exceeded the carrying capacity of the planet,
even those with jobs. And spouses. And houses.
Yet it's an idyll of an early summer evening, new cut grass,
two baseball teams of children playing in it. Safe from Pakistan.
News photos of Muslim refugees, women in blue robes, biblically
carrying children away from holocaust. The fundamentalist army
not far behind, beheading sinners, sure in its righteousness
as the Holy Roman Empire.
                                     Somehow Joel Osteen the evangelist comes up
while talking about how the Catholic Church is irrelevant in North
      America,
even Latin America and Africa are going evangelical.
Izzi likes Osteen, awesome extemporaneous speaker, no teleprompter,
up from bootstraps message and my wife says he's probably Jewish.
No one wants to go there.
Fortunately no one claims the Holocaust never happened or slavery was
      voluntary.
What is the carrying capacity of the planet? Two children have
replacement value. In China is it each couple or each adult that gets
one offspring? As life expectancy and standards rise,
family size diminishes. We draw together into greener, tighter cities
surrounded by farms surrounded by forests.
The children of three monotheistic religions, atheists and agnostics
play in city streets, work farm fields, explore forests, deserts, grasslands,
      space.

Two ancient female poets: Enheduanna and Sappho
are a revelation. The clarity of their complaints:
lost lover, lost city.





Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse |
I remember as 
   a kid 
my mother gave my copy 
   of Frank Waldman's 
"Bonus Pitcher" 
     to the school book fair 
I had to buy it back
   for a quarter 
   the book told the tale 
of how a "bonus baby" won the respect of 
   those who rejected him at first 
Also, it told the tale 
   of the Brooklyn Dodgers
        defeating the Boston Red Sox 
in a World Series 
  I have re - read the book 
during hard moments in my life 
Baseball defines 
  America 
Our national pastime
    is also enshrined 
in the movie 
"Field of Dreams" 
As for myself - I only played catcher 
    for a short while in the Little Leagues 
   and cried as a kid when the Mets lost (as they usually did in
the early days)
I heard stories of ballplayers from years ago 
   and they still reverberate in my 
             in my mind 
Older now - the best I could do now 
    is whack some softballs at the batting cages 
Time wears us all down 
   Baseball diamonds still shine brightly 
             in the minds of most Americans

Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
 baseball, bird, change, childhood, games, holiday, lost,

“Seasonal Walks in the Park!”

A walk in the park after a springtime morning rainfall 
Is to hear the droplets fall from bent branches overhead
That can shock and moisten one’s brow walking below
And make note on the many water stains spotting the lanes

The grasses have turned into rich shiny green blades
Water drops remaining give individual blades sparkle
And soon the lawns will need to be mowed often 
And made and kept ready for park picnics and games 

The dissolving clouds open gaps for sun rays piercings
Adding sunbeam warmth  down on upturned faces 
The sun-warm breezes will temp visitors to carry their coats
And others perhaps persuaded in removing their shoes and socks

Some will have their feet dampened on the grass from droplets of dew 
As they venture and tread about the newly showered lawns  
The blades of grass will squeak when running shoes tramp through 
And if recently cut than grass blades will stick between bared toes

Spring’s love potion is inhaled and felt by all touring about 
Seasoning desires for familiarity towards the fairer sex 
From past haunts of pleasantly spent park delights 
Where wooing couples will be affected to a time stand still 

The early morning rainbow has faded and day’s clear skies are imminent 
The air fresh from receding mists mingle heavenly and tweak the nose
Dew worms break through and inch their way along above ground
Turning out from under the now soft rain moistened soil

This stirs the well-known smell of earth worms movements 
And birds sing out invitations  for all to join in this feed
Mother birds will return and hungry hatchlings will have first kills
And fathers will be released then of their nest guard duties for this share

All daytime and nighttime visitors will become love-struck
In their search for springtime’s romancing love calls to one another
The park comes awake to the frenzy and welcomes young and old
To meet, greet, and form new and old friendships offered all around 

The park's excitement is truly felt when a love-knot becomes first tied 
Crawling babies born from previous spring time passions will be noted
 They will learn the high-step toddle soon enough bringing them to romp
Once they have experienced that first feel of having to crawl on prickly grass

Young voices are heard mingling along with loud hand claps 
All friendly ‘high-fives’ are brandied about within the new met groups 
This is an all- time game ritual passed between friendships bonding
All this showmanship will form new team players for ball-park games

The ice-rink’s wooden forms are being removed and taken away for another year
Memories of skating parties last held are brought to surface 
The recall of being half frozen and then thawed 
When invited to sip a mug of hot chocolate steaming and full-bodied

A freshly painted baseball diamond will replace the rink area now
This ball field will bring many ball park players to home-plate
While proving to others they are ‘out of bounds’ 
Their devotion to play after school and during holidays is well kept

The flapping and snapping of new kites sound overhead 
Straining their ties against the cruel breezes putting them down
Watchers walking about are made to feel free 
The breezes jostle skirt and pant legs to tease about

Children are held clasped in grown-up hands  to hold them fast 
Their first walk about in the park has been a long time put on hold
Even the elderly are childlike and have a bounce given to their step
Walking around the park’s perimeter evolves a lifetime’s returning event

A seasonal change brings about new and different facades to the parkland
And they never fail to have a special allure to draw all outdoors
No matter what the weather call that day or night will bring
Walkers are in want of fresh-air walks found in the park grounds

And dogs always have to reacquaint themselves to the lay of the parkland 
Their bones need burying for great hunts in all seasons to become lost and found
They love to leave their markings on pure white snow banks as calling cards 
The park sees all and sees to all that visit and never will tell tales of any kind!





Copyright © Diane M Quinlan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
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.

Copyright © Rosann Fode | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
I like to eat stuff
I'm not very buff
I think i'm pretty tough
My doctor says my health is pretty rough
My girlfriends name is muff
I hate her
She always calls me fat
Even though her face looks like a bat
My mom says i'm obese
I'm cheating on my girl with Denise
Shes pretty fat too
She likes mario and she hate the boo
Shes so fat you'd think she would moo
She even look like a cow
She doesn't have a left eyebrow
So you can say my life is pretty bad
My friends make me mad
You can say i'm pretty fat
But i love to eat cats
Its nothing personal
I just think its pretty cool
On pokemon i like to duel
Eating is my number one rule
So you can say i'm pretty fat
But i can say that you look like a rat
So watch what you say
Because i will make you pay
I like fishing on the bay
because i was so fat that i broke the deck
I almost broke my neck
I think i need to go on more healthy
My family is pretty wealthy
They eat a lot of butter
They like to use meat cutters
On my dogs
I broke my window with a log
I like singing songs
But i hate using bongs
I'm not like cheech and chong
Some say i got it all wrong
But i say they are a bunch of ding dongs
Most people hate me
I keep loosing my house key
In school i had straight D's
I'm not very smart
And i like to fart
I like to play mario kart
I tried playing darts
Most people say i'm a tart
Im a pretty fat man
I ate so much at mcdonalds that i'm banned
My diabetes is pretty high
I think I might cry
Doc said i might die
I just began to sigh
I began to cry
This isn't fair
I went and fought a bear
It didn't turn out good
I was going to win,well i thought i would
I was rushed to the hospital
I own a lot of cattle
I go out there and shoot one every year
I alway eat stuff with beer
But eh doctors would give me any
I was watching forest gump, his friends name was jennie
I need to loose some weight
But I'm at burger king so it'll have to wait
I need a bag of chips
But i need some dip
I wish I had a job
But I like to hang with my friend bob
Hes pretty dumb
Hes big bum
He owns a hen
He likes dating men
I need to stop hanging with him
Hes is a sin
But i don't want to be mean
I ate a baked bean
It tasted bad
It was pretty rad
I found it on the toilet
Spongebob said i soiled it
For christmas i want a baseball kit
But i spent all my money on food
People say i'm rude
But im not in the freaking mood
When i used to perform at concerts they always boo'd
I hate my life
I also hate my wife
I stabbed my arm with a knife
It hurt pretty bad
Im pretty fat

Copyright © Trash Boat | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse |
mostly
happy
ever after
hanging 
upside down from a rafter

giving my cherished name
to short splintered sticks
that hits long balls
out of sight
both day and night and

did I mention the difficulty that I have 
in going while hanging upside down
God made it so that 
I must move to move
and stand upright

Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
Intently the boy gazed
every muscle tense and quivering
as he focused on the ball.
Would a catch come his way?

The others played on the frames
laughter was ringing out.
Still the boy remained
totally focused on that ball.

Written 11/25/2015

contest: Oil Paintings 4 & 5

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse |
This Blue Moon..
This moon is hypnotizing , this moon knows all Truth and lies

it is a rare moon and filled with questions asked 
luminous clouds weaving through , knowing all through existence

showing me there is yet true love in the mist

who else has been captured by the Magic that surrounds this Blue Moon tonight ~
pure  light and magic that pulls on your soul , instinctively,  when called you will go
with all senses enhanced, romancing you 
 all that you know

it controls the waters at Sea, as though it instructs all sea life
speaking to the dolphins' and lighting the oceans glow 

telling the night owl too take flight and hunt ~ 
showing a white Owl for the first time seen


this moon is speaking , listening to all prayers 
there is more around us, more then the finest of wise Men know


Look at this moon tonight 
Tell me now what the truth is 
This Blue Moon ..it knows.

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013