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Premium Member Over The Years

Contest: Five Perspectives
Sponsor: Margaritas Lillico
Poem written: 090126


Red wagons, tricyles, electric trains.
Off to school  exploring my brain.
Reading, writing, arithmatic each day.
But at 5, it was much ado about play.

New school, new teachers, new classes.
Honor rolls, lots of books, good grades.
15, working hard, covering all the bases.
New friends; so many different faces.

By 30, 2 kids and married for 8 years.
A time in life when fears and tears are real;
Life of dealing with mortgages and car deals.
A youth pastor, helping kids learn how to live.

When turning 50 and leaving 49 years behind,
We slowly learn to make the new step of time.
We are concerned with 401k's and retirement.
Spoken words are fine, but we want them in print.

By 70, I had resided in four different states.
I felt great, having neither head nor heart aches.
It was in 2019 when I attended my first NFL game.
Doctors, clinics, hospitals; mostly for exams.

Premium Member Flak Kaserne

There once was a team overseas
Who fielded with power and ease
At Flak Kaserne they played
And a loss they did evade
With a season that aimed to appease

The Finance squad stood fifteen and oh
With one final ball game to go
They expected a win
Until fate settled in
And sullied his confident glow

A liner came sailing towards me
To left center where hesitance be
One pause in the chase
Let the ball slip past my face
And under my glove, I set the ball free

The bases were cleared in the ninth
And victory vanished from sight
Though fifteen-and-one
Was still proudly won
That play being relived in my mind

American Girl

Bike riding,
hair flying.

Ball hitting,
bases getting.

Puppy wrangling,
treats jangling.

Tree climbing,
perfect timing.

It's my world—
an American girl!


PLOTS

When plots and oppression 
Comes up against you and
Your back is up against the wall
It seems like there's no way out
Because all their bases are covered
Just call upon our lord and savior
Jesus Christ because he can 
MOVE A MOUNTAIN

Premium Member Kids with Heroes and Dreams


  	    What was it about
                 the roar of the crowd
                 the crack of the bat
                    the circling of the bases
                    headfirst slides, the dust they begat
  
             What was it about 
                  the swish of the net
                  the dripping of sweat
                     in those musty old gyms
                     none of us ever forget

              What was it about
                   that seventy-yard pass
                   dropping like a feather
                   right in the receiver’s lap

                 The magic moved us all back then
                 kids with heroes and larger-than-life dreams
                   ‘til we no longer made the team

                 ‘Til Fenway Park and
                  Madison Square Garden 
                    became two more venues
                    for hustlers’ schemes

Premium Member The Beauty Of Baseball

What is it about baseball that makes is so great... 
Is it hitting a hundred mph fastball while at the plate? 
Is It that amazing feeling to field a lightning ground ball 
Or the leaping catch-made that was over the wall 
Hitting home runs and clearing the bases 
Sure, puts a smile on your teammates faces 
In baseball you can steal a base and not get in trouble 
Statistics prove that most hitters all have a double 
Fans get excited they scream and they shout... 
to the umpires that call- "Safe or Yer out! 
One, two, three outs in an inning 
The managers' done well... if his team is winning 
The benchwarmers wait, in hopes to get an at-bat 
And the pitcher gets a (K) and a tip of the hat... 
from teammates or players on the other sides team 
Hitting grand-slams is a pinch-hitters dream 
But the best thing about baseball to me, I must say 
Is it's a beautiful game that all ages can play 
I was sixty-five years old when I finally retired 
Well, actually it was my brother, (the manager) ... 
Who said "I was fired"


Premium Member Banana Bread

Time for Dessert - Acrostic Challenge 2 Poetry Contest
Andrea Dietrich

Batter takes the banana pitches,
And swings for some yogurt and butter.
Nuts and raisins are in the field, 
As a strike of milk and sugar shouts.
Next batter up hits the sweet spot,
Anxiously, the team of players rises.

Bake and shake around the bases.
Riches and the pitches of Chiquita’s,
Enjoying the score, slices, and strikes,
As the savory loaf rises in the oven.
Delightment of a win moments away.

Premium Member The reason and rationale '

Iran was weak and divided.? It was also
 quite co-ordinated enough to field a nuclear
Device..? Well rather quickly ' Although all its
Capable bases; had been destroyed by U S
Air strikes just a few months earlier.' Quite an impressive intelligence assesment in all
The (different senarios explained? ) i hope I have been clear and coherent in my summary.? I'd hate to mis-inform anyone.'

Premium Member titter tatter chitter chatter

diddle-daddle idle chatter
many asked what was the matter?
he ran off to be a batter
running bases in pitter patter

bats he used would often shatter
titter tatter chitter chatter
time wasted said the now rich batter
he’s a big shot, said my cousin Datter

Premium Member On the Field

There was a field behind my childhood home.
It was enormous and surrounded by
a tangled woods in which we used to roam.
We’d lay on grass and watch clouds in the sky
sometimes when we would play on summer days.
We called it “Ball park,” though it had no name
that I recall, and in my tomboy phase,
I loved to go there for a kickball game.
Like baseball was that game, but with no bat.
You’d kick the big ball rolled toward your foot,
then run the bases – as easy as that.
It was no time to be going barefoot!
But other times with bare feet we would run
beneath the sun on that field  - having fun.

Premium Member This is Not for Me

My daughter met a recruiter who was immensely powerful.
She flew to Las Vegas, Nevada to inquire further.
Called me and said “this is not for me, I’m not doing it.”
I said,”It’s okay. Don’t do it.”
“But the plane cost so much money!”
“We don’t care. Come home.”

The next day, she called to say “I am enlisting.”
I was incredulous. “What?”
“I cannot talk any longer,” she told me, “there is a line.”
I tried to get more details.
She said “Love you, Mom,” and hung up.
She had met another powerful recruiter.

She was twenty-one at the time, during the Gulf War.
I was terrified for her.
Hoping she would not be sent to the front.
It was horrifying to me.
She said basic training was awful, but she got through it.
We did not get to see her in person until after the parade.
Because she is tall, she was carrying a flag.

The Air Force was the best thing that ever happened to her.
They trained her for a great job; she is an epidemiologist.
She has had a marvelous career thanks to the Air Force.
She never had this kind of direction before.
On one of her bases, she was named “Captain of the Year”.
We are very proud of her.

Premium Member On Pieces of peace'

In most villages away from the main citys
In 1950s say.? Life was that bit more gritty
Yet removed from 'power centers' and
Information bases, i see life was more restfull, the flow of events, went at acceptable paces? Here no connection through ideaology from the intellectual
Groups; leading down through politics and
Milatary boots, linked in; to learning centers, ensuring, speed of delivery, to all and any
'Even then, with consciousness, will, good
Sense, and approbation, disruptive and
Untried suggestions, were not dished out
Just arbitarily.' So even in these conurbations confined, dissconection offered, some respite we find, yet if you
Lived in the country? T'was much better there you lived, for life and not just some letters.'

ENSLAVED FREEDOM

Liberty, equality, fraternity,
beautiful chimeras carved into the republican marble,
yet behind the motto, the Black Code,
the papal bull,
and the slave-trading betrayal as backbone.

Slavery, colonization,
xenophobia, negrophobia,
these are the legacies they disguise as civilizations.

Human zoos, colonial trading posts, the colonial pact,
the savage plunder wrapped in a tricolor flag.
In banana republics, tyranny is always under contract,
Françafrique and its neo-colonial military bases
feed African dictators at the service of the West.

Africa, the third world, whose misery has been planned for millennia,
this is how they name the cradle of humanity.
Under their blades, raw materials
become a procession of genocides,
and neo-colonial poaching devours heritages.

Assimilation, integration, alienation,
these three chains forged by the schools of the empire of Enlightenment.
But human dignity refuses to be sold,
the integrity and identity of courageous souls will never prostitute themselves.

Humanity and Africanity,
these two flames proclaim aloud
that the womb of oppressed peoples
shall never be reduced to the dust of servitude and submission.

With Borrowed Faces in a Place

With Borrowed Faces in a Place

We are turning around with no faces, 
Just in cases.
Heaven in our places,
Just two faces. 

Screaming out so everyone hears our bases,
 We can't hide our faces.
But truth still chases
Through hidden mazes.

Slow and smoky phrases.
Now we are visible - with our borrowed faces. 
Time erases.
There are no traces.

We are turning around with no faces, 
Just in cases.
Heaven in our places,
Just two faces.

Premium Member Rework

On many endeavors which I’ve undertaken,
a significant amount of my time was spent.
Explaining things to avoid being mistaken,
later to hear “But Tom, I thought you meant”. 

Time spent reworking isn’t time well spent,
so I endeavor to cover all bases before starting.
Misunderstandings, I always try to prevent, 
and before starting, completing comparting.

So I’m forced to instruct each person alike,
so that upon completion I won’t have to vent.
Unless the end result is to to my dislike,
and I quickly say, “money wasn’t well spent.”

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