Just a bit after midnight
The fridge hums in the background
An old clock quietly ticks
As she turns the pages
A quiet house exhales
Chapters still to write
Sorrow has found solace here
Laughter an echo chamber
Children a place to be children
Adults allowed to join them
She is scarred, this old house
Stories to go with each one
Hockey sticks, baseballs,
Jump ropes and roller skates
Her windows stick
The doors and floors squeak
Pencil marks tell of a family’s growth
Tape marks recall art exhibits
We will sleep well tonight
Listening to the gentle heartbeat
Of an old house whispering
Just a bit after midnight
I'm becoming a baseball! I'm so proud,
in this Rawlings factory, being stitched,
dreaming of my day in front of the crowd,
gently tossed around the infield and pitched.
Some of the baby baseballs in this place
tell of such fun, sailing over the grass,
an exciting split-second finish race
'tween ball and player, sliding on his ass.
Some talk of being smashed by fearsome bats
telling horrid tales, like one 'bout Johnny -
that poor ball died, just one of baseball's stats,
when he was slammed by Shohei Ohtani.
They tell me I needn't have any fears
if I'm pitched to Seattle Mariners.
Borrowed words, a line from Mary Shelley, Frankenstein:
“Beware, for I am fearless, and therefore, powerful”
I have crumbled mountains, that were once molehills
I have heard the fretful cry of my child, midst thunder
I have missed sleep to hold a sick friend's hand
I have read stories, told imaginary stories, invented games
broken up fights, yelled at games, organized parties
driven miles, decorated cars, made costumes
watched play practice, watched Amateur Night
I have added numbers, multiplied fractions, read paragraphs
taught dancing, thrown baseballs, given advice
I have mended with patches, band aids and words of love
I will walk distances, if I am needed
and I have never learned to say goodbye without tears
I am Woman
THE BEACH
sand between your toes
sun tanners' bath on the beach
swimmers in the sea
THE PLAYGROUND
children on the swings
chasing dogs- after squirrels
chalk made- hopscotch
FISHING
fisherman casting
fly-fishing for rainbow trout
frying pans await
ENTERTAINMENT
concerts in the park
country fairs and carnivals
camping 'neath the stars
SPORTS
basketballs bouncing
baseballs being hit and caught
balloonists in air
SUMMER
spring has departed
sun showers in the forecast
summertime rainbows
Baseballs, Barbie dolls
Bicycles and falls
Replaced with
Controllers, scrolling
Strollers and hovering
How many stitches does a baseball have?
One hundred and eight
One hundred and eight
One hundred and eight
To know this is super, more than a little bit great.
A baseball is retired after six pitches in professional ball
In professional ball
In professional ball
In professional ball
How did they decide this? It’s an interesting call.
A professional baseball game uses us to seventy-two balls.
Seventy-two before they are through.
Seventy-two to impress me and you.
Seventy-two, seventy-two!
Baseballs are awesome, just a few pointers for you.
When days grow longer, you know it is spring
The sun warms the earth's soil, whoa! it's spring.
Shades of tender green appear, warm sun's here
Barefoot, run out, stump your toe, lively spring.
Colored blooms show in the woods, love floats round
Maidens slip and kiss their beau, that is spring.
Little boys throw baseballs fast, run at last
Coats disappear, red cheeks glow, joy in spring.
Sunflower plants zinnia seeds, soon they show
Awesome renewals bestow, lovely spring.
I needed some storage space so I checked out
The floor underneath the kids’ bed.
It’s a very old bunk but instead of some room,
This is what I encountered instead:
A bag filled with newspapers, all from the date
That announced Mickey Mantle had died;
A plastic container too heavy to lift,
With baseball cards (hundreds!) inside.
From Sesame Street, a stuffed Grover and Bert,
Miss Piggy and Oscar the Grouch,
A Madeline doll and a Raggedy Ann.
(But I swear nothing’s under the couch!)
Several board games and one more big box which contained
Baseballs, batting gloves and souvenirs;
Magazines, ID cards and some photos on which
Someone’s autograph somehow appears.
I moved everything out, tossed some stuff in the trash
But my kids are now in for a treat,
For I’m taking it all to their houses to make
The space under their beds more complete!
Coins and watches
keychains
old newspaper clippings
Necklaces and chains
stamps
baseballs cards and old pictures
all thrown into one
stop throwing baseballs
for my neighbour's cat
his swing just isn't in it
and besides, I'm a little
worried for his fragility
he, being just porcelain
I was hoping for just a caress or maybe a stroke
but all I got was noises, smoke, and restless rebuff
I was wishing for a tree hugger who would
place their arms around me and love me
but all I got was misaligned baseballs and tramples
My limbs expand far and wide
and my roots are deep, part of everything down under
still they walk around as if I don't even exist
as if I'm just a stump, standing there like a bump on a log
I get moonstruck at night by the beauty of the sky
and warmed by the sun when the dawn arrives at will
I rejoice at the sound of a child's laughter,
or when someone takes a nap beneath my full branches.
I am a tree who loves people, creatures and things,
even a misaligned baseballs, better that then nothing at all.
Hard balls, soft balls
Hiding on the loft balls
Red balls, white balls
Feeling feather light balls
Big balls, small balls
Hitting on the wall balls
Golf balls, tennis balls
Plastic table tennis balls
Baseballs, cricket balls
Bowling out the wicket balls
Basketballs, footballs
Throwing those shot-put balls
Dull balls, shining balls
Exercise reclining balls
Rubber balls, hockey balls
Snooker balls, sticky balls
Volley balls, beach balls
Jumping out of reach balls
Handballs, throwballs,
Playing with the snowballs
Rugby balls, yo-yo balls
In the darkness glow balls
Sweet balls, meat balls
Getting ready to eat balls
Glass balls, round balls
Find them all around balls
08.04.2021
For Natasha L Scragg's "The Marmite Poem" contest
NEW YORK YANKEES,
BASEBALLS MOST LOVED TEAM.
I'M JUST JOKING,
THAT'S ONLY IN YOUR DREAMS.
THE YANKEES BOUGHT
GEORGE HERMAN RUTH.
SO HE WOULDN'T,
BEAT THEM FROM THE MOUND.
THEN THEY SPENT
MORE MONEY.
BOUGHT THE BEST
FROM ALL AROUND.
ONE, MUST ADMIRE,
ALL THE GREATEST
YANKEE NAMES.
I DON'T BELIEVE
ANY BASEBALL TEAM
HAVE MORE
IN THE HALL OF FAME.
I KICK BACK AND SMILE.
BECAUSE I'M A BASEBALL FAN.
I LIKE TO CHEER
FOR THE UNDER DOG
JUST BECAUSE I CAN.
YOU GOTTA LOVE
THE YANKEES,
WHEN THEY COME
TO YOUR HOME TOWN.
YOU BUY A SEAT
WATCH THE GAME.
HOPE YOU WIN
SERIES CROWN.
WITH THE BEST TALENTS
IN BASEBALL.
ALL ON THE VERY
SAME TEAM.
YES I CAN IMAGINE
HOW THIS,
CAN BE A DREAM.
IF YOU CAN'T BEAT EM
BUY EM.
MAKES PERFECT SENSE
TO ME.
WE'RE TALKING
WORLD SERIES.
IT'S BUSINESS
AND IT'S NOT FREE.
UNCLE PHIL
THANKS MY FRIEND.
FOR THE INTRODUCTION
TO BASEBALL.
I SEE YOUR POINT
AND I WILL AGREE
IT'S THE GREATEST GAME OF ALL.
Michael E. Harris
12302020
Goliath Hybrids
By: Miracle man
7/2/2020
Some tomatoes are as big as baseballs,
plants are most eight foot tall.
As each one begins turning red,
Mocking Birds are pecking them all.
It’s their ready source of water,
under a scorching Oklahoma sun.
I’ve now surrounded cages with burlap,
determined not to be outdone.
Early heat will cause a short season,
despite watering every second day.
The blooms fall off and fruit don’t set,
but Dr. says "no tomatoes" anyway.
I’m not sure
I have the strength anymore
To be discovered
Stepping into the cold black lake of February
Clopping to work in frozen slop
Snow snarling at my ankles
Car coughing
Windshield gritting its white teeth
I wear a body double of fur curved
Like a polar beast on my back
Then the Voice of the Turtle whispers…
And sprinklers spritz in a mist of sunrise
And rows of palm trees unfold as a breezy outfield fence
Blue sky a homerun boundary
Free to swing away you can’t miss
Buckets of baseballs flung to the green sea
Leather-gloved squids
Eight kids per position
Waiting their ground balls and pop flies
Legend to rookie 60 feet and 6 inches from the big show
Chin skimmed and bum chapped with red dirt
Tip of hat flattened to home plate
Get up swing back at that
Unfamiliar crack of doubt
Deep from winter inside you.
A hot sun is a bird perched on the bill of your cap
#10 Numi eternal rookie in us all
Spread your wings and fly to Detroit
The Old English D forever on your chest.
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