They may come and go says Samael, so sayeth the wiccan prince who some say too ushers in hell, but hell is reserved for the iniquitous and the evil, where tortured until they are ash, is the only white steeple, the comely few who verily detest when mothball mouths are not cottonmouth bassets the silly strummed up wheat, which pervades the day when the heat is nigh on noon complete, the southern seer, grampy to some, has black boys and girls this Samael sung.
Stay away from the bee hive
That makes mommy glad
For I'm only five
And dying would be bad
Forget the bike
I want to drive
That's the car I like
Speed makes me feel alive
To baseball
To dance
To the mall
To get new pants
Motherhood is over
Grams now I am
I wish time would go slower
Did he just call me mam?
Assisted living here I come
Growing old is not any fun
Just found out that my grandson is a bum
Sits on the beach and surfs in the sun.
When you think of places that are sad,
you might think of the Germans in Stalingrad,
or you may consider, too,
Napolean, leading the French, at Waterloo,
but, by far, the saddest place around,
for a hundred years, is Mudville town,
the place where Casey at the bat
failed, as his mighty swing fell flat.
Casey made excuses. Folks said, "Save your breath",
and mighty Casey drank himself to death.
Flowers in Mudville, they say, never bloom.
Children grow up in misery and gloom.
Yet, as all hope is disappearing,
lately, I have been hearing,
about a strapping young prospect,
the one standing there on deck.
Do you think he can make Mudville smile?
Will he strike out or hit the ball a mile?
The pop of the fastball into the catcher’s mitt
The catcher’s snap throw to third
The crack of the bat from a great hit
Snap, crack(le) and pop were part of baseball first
Here in Canada, it is no misreport
to say that ice hockey is our national sport,
but over the last number of years it would certainly seem
that a "summer sport" applies to our favourite team.
A game actually played in spring, summer and fall,
it's an import, "America's Pastime", I'm talkin' 'bout baseball!
And the team that inspires so much loyalty and praise
in this country is, of course, the Toronto Blue Jays!
Canada is a nation of great contrast and variety,
a mosaic, not a melting pot, of ethnic diversity.
But if there's anything that can unite us
(I'm so delighted to report),
it's the fortunes of a team in a much-loved sport.
Here, the Jays have a following across this big land,
from the high western mountains to the wide eastern strand.
No other team in baseball can make this claim;
not the damn Yankees or Dodgers with all of their fame.
So if you visit Canada, just so you know...
you'll be in Blue Jays country. Go Jays Go!!!
winy am-
monia mini
yams say i
am my
own way
high rep-
tilian brat-
boy schwing-
er rain-
ing ground-
ers through the
shortstop's not so
sticky wickets
you are the symbol of my dream closer to my heart
there is nothing in this world to separate us apart
that which keeps sharp the mind I follow like the wave
brave as a lion to enjoy the silence in a cave
like the blossom of the lotus in the morning dew
I begin to speak with the sunrise to get a cue
few unspoken words whisper I share with the butterfly
try to understand that the love for you makes me cry
for the many challenges I overcome you showed me the light
though I am blind you inspired me to fight
right under the golden sun I have no reason for you to forsake
make me this promise to stay beside me whatever it may take
with confidence and humility my love for you is pure
no matter how deep the pain I will continue to endure
cure for anger and hate I carry the nectar of faith
wait for me oh my beloved i beg the God of fate.
where is it?
the commonwealth games are on and i can't find it
my children have never seen it
they need to know what it is
they need to see everything -
including lawn bowls
i'm livid.
what they did miss,
was the mechanic loch ness monster
that was televised -
but not the bowls
i've listened to baseball on the radio
whilst washing the car -
it is euphoria.
The two most dominant baseball pitchers of their eras
On the mound, neither was cute or clever
Each reared back and fired
No matter if they were dead-tired
Sandy Koufax and Nolan Ryan
Most batters gave up even tryin’
The great Yogi Berra once said
I understand how Koufax won 25 games last year”
But how he lost five games just isn’t clear”
Koufax deemed Ryan’s lack of pinpoint control his secret weapon
He labeled Ryan a wild bombardier
Who won games because his wayward 100 mph pitches instilled fear
Baseball's a great game played on grass.
You hit a ball. You slide on your ass.
Let's all cheer "Hip hip hurray"
for its inventor, Abner Tripleday.
Sweet Heaven!
My weakness
is falling for
women with long hair.
Sweet Heaven!
My playboy's ways charm
them more than that handsome
baseball player
who's handsome
and winks without restraint.
My weakness spoils taste,
not its flavor, this fame
of an incredible lover
it's due to an irresistible need
to conquer and deceive, indeed;
I break naive and weak hearts,
I don't apologize to anyone.
it's the ego of the cruelest man
with the intention to win;
it's the habit of repentless trolls!
I shuffle cards
and watch players
with restless eyes
and restless fingers
they are learning to play
Game Queen:
a nightmare never seen;
they look around with dismay.
My weakness
is not falling for the woman
at the round table,
but to win and be their idol!
Bike riding,
hair flying.
Ball hitting,
bases getting.
Puppy wrangling,
treats jangling.
Tree climbing,
perfect timing.
It's my world—
an American girl!
Every evening I cuddle up
on the sofa and watch the News:
different stories, same crimes,
I'm better off catching flies,
while coffee is perking up,
I definitely need a cup
for a healthy heart
and think straight;
will all promises
turn to dust?
Happiness is gone from this city,
moods are soberer than misery;
get me a beer, it's comedy
on stage: drunk is Vinney!
Hey, the deficit is sky high,
wages aren't enough to buy
an Armani suit to look sharp
and avoid these horrible blues:
I hate the ticking of the clock!
If I think that everything is fine,
I'm being taken for a ride,
who can afford a ticket
to a musical show?
The only choice is a cigar
and I'll still miss the game at the bar,
wandering streets that are dark,
until I hit the empty park
and start sobering up;
watch out for that cop,
he'll tell you, " It's past midnight,
go home, sleep tight! "
I am a paranoid
with feet so cold;
at this hour, nothing is loud!
Paul [M]olitor
Ted S[I]mmons
Ceci[L] Cooper
Roy Ho[W]ell
Gorman Thom[A]s
Robin Yo[U]nt
Pete Vuc[K]ovich
Jim Gantn[E]r
B[E]n Oglivie
[B]ob McClure
[R]ollie Fingers
Charli[E] Moore
Mike Cald[W]ell
Moos[E] Haas
Ed [R]omero
Don [S]utton
After seeking help from every source
I fell into despair, without a voice.
I hated God, I could no longer pray.
Every day was torment,every way
When someone takes their life we’re seized by pain.
How can we ever know such love again?
Silent and alone in deep despair
My pain itself became a silent prayer
In my room I saw a golden light.
Which wrapped itself around me, held me tight
Go back into the world he counselled me
I will help you in your agony
I felt such love, I’ve never since forgot .
How deep despair untied the sacred knot
We’re meant to live with others not seek God
Though God himself may find us with his s rod.
Angels guide us to where we should be
Don’t try to cross the river, do not flee.
No one is an island said the poet
In our suffering, sometimes we can’t know it
I’ve never seen the golden light since then.
I’ve had friends and lovers and my pen
Baseball Categories
Definition | What is Baseball in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
major league, world series, mlb, umpire, strike out, pitcher, pennant, inning, bullpen, curveball, outfield, ballpark, fly ball, foul ball, fastball