Best Ballpark Poems
Every poet on this site fill up your cup and throw your hands in the air.
It's gonna be an entertaining night, so sit back and watch this poetic warfare!
This could be just a one-sided fight, but it will be entertaining all the same.
So as I destroy this poetic parasite, all you soupers chant my damn name!
O. K. P. D.., here's some slam poetry, and my sentences will put you in a poetic headlock!
How dare you think you can compete with me! Girl, I'm the Poetic Warlock!
Each exclamation mark is like a thousand stingers, so what cha think of that?!
You're not in my ballpark, so you can get the middle finger as I walk over you like a doormat!
Each stanza is more diabolical than the last, so put your finger between your legs, scratch
and sniff!
I'm putting you in a body cast, so you better beg before I throw you over that poetic cliff!!
Souper's have no fear, I'm ending P.D.'s poetic career, so you take your poems throw em in
a waste basket!
I was hired to make you disappear, by putting the final nail in your wooden casket!!!
Oops, catching fire, there goes my notepad; Someone turn down my pen's thermostat!
I will not tire, like bombs over baghdad; so how is P. D. suppose to compete with that?
Every souper knows I'm the badest, so how dare you try to compete!
And Nate will be the sadest, because P.D.'s heart I've come to eat!!
I'm raining this poetic assault like raindrops, and you're now the Soup Laughingstock.
Just stop; you can't conquer my mountain top! I'm the Poetic Warlock!!!
For years, you have been trying to catch that elusive bird.
In your cartoons, we have never heard a single word.
Warner Brothers decided to give the late Mel Blanc a break.
With no dialogue, there were many foolish steps you would take.
That Acme Company must have made a fortune off you.
You failed at every single attempt you would do.
Each fly ball you hit never left the ballpark.
With rockets, catapults, and bombs, you kept missing your mark.
The lousiest luck hit you in each episode.
That roadrunner kept zooming down the desert road.
With each failure, you kept coming back the next day.
Give it up, coyote. Roadrunners do not taste good anyway.
In watching the television or looking out my front door
Alongside it seems to run with the verses of Matthew 24
Rumblings from The Ring of Fire and rumors of War
Things have become so dire like He's right at the door
Only the Father knows as we sit here in the toes of time
Humanity reaching new lows with no reason nor rhyme
Decieved by the wicked one, unable to see, hear or understand
The Light of his only Son, nails through each Hand
Scoffers? Too many to name and the increase in wickedness
Jesus took your blame so it's Heaven you wouldn't miss
So many are in the dark and there they may forever remain
Not even in the ballpark as even understanding this a strain
So they gamble with their soul with odds they can't win
Jesus took your roll in the punishment of your sin
Just think for one minute, and call upon His Name
Do this one little bit and life will never be the same
I pray for all lost souls,
that God May bless them
with the greatest gift of all,
Faith in His Glorious Name.
Spring hasn't sprung: No bees have stung;
No painter's fallen off a ladder's rung.
No miner's contracted black lung.
Spring hasn't sprung: No batter has swung
At a strike three pitch that no hurler has flung
In a ballpark where Opening Day Game banners
have yet to be hung.
Spring hasn't sprung: No dry parched tongue
Has yet been clinged or been clung
To lips burnt by the rays of the sun.
Spring hasn't sprung: No song has been sung
Off-tune and off-key in an obscure mother tongue
By a lone crooner bereft of a love unstrung.
Yes: It's ok that Spring hasn't sprung:
--If certain particular news is not brung.
March 30, 2018
Contest entry in "Spring Fling Zing Thing King (or Queen)"
Sponsor - Michael Vacek
For all of you, here is a little history:
Professional baseball got its start in Cincinnati.
The “Red Stockings” played in the Queen City.
That was in 1869; over a century ago.
Players were paid on the banks of the Ohio.
With gloves made of leather, and bats made of wood,
this year’s team is also pretty good.
“Great American Ballpark” is where they play ball.
The Central Division winners just might take it all.
EFFICACIOUS ii - (“FOR ADULT CONTEST”)
Despite how difficult it is everyone has to grow up.
Embracing the world with or without an agenda,
Adulthood is such a SWOT analysis.
Strengthen to progress…
Weaken in the process…
Opportunity is a knock away.
Treat yourself with positive thinking.
Step forward with your bat.
Strike and maybe it will leave the ballpark.
If you strike out, do not fret.
Life as an adult has its disappointments.
Next step is coming up fast.
Hang tough so that you will be who laugh last.
Your strides diversify.
This is the true meaning of being an adult.
You are your own self-worth.
[End of Poem]
Philosophical Tenet:
We are our own creation!
___________________________________
Penned April 21, 2015!
Cliche Heaven
Be it as it may I'll try my hand at some clichés
and address the elephant in the room soon when pigs fly.
It’s a win- win situation, put your game face on, work the crowd
as we wrap our heads around comparing apples to orange.
We are all data driven, with an ace in the hole, stick a sock in it
while stepping up to the plate and peeling back the onion
and easily hit it out of the ballpark with a world of hurt.
Be my team player, run with this, my agent of change
but don’t throw me under the bus as you think outside the box.
We can touch base later seeing where the rubber meets the road
and put boots on the ground, a perfect storm, deal with it.
Here’s my two cents, if it works I'll go off the beaten path
driving route 66 on the road not taken when it’s up for grabs,
and taking a walk in the sun, learning the new math.
That said, don’t put me out to pasture, wait for it,
there’s no sign of my slowing down, its going viral.
These are the signs of the times, take the bull by its horns,
It’s a brave new tomorrow and all bets are off.
Don’t force my hand to be up close and personal
I’m a rebel without a cause and to die for.
Don’t get bent out of shape raising the bar in the winds of change
There’s something for everyone, just another babe in the woods.
Stay tuned, like, duh, as a matter of fact, at the end of the day,
it’s a last ditch effort as you live and learn the luck of the draw.
Pay it forward, that’s the ticket, give and take, get a wake up call,
same song and dance, say what you will, you’re as sharp as a tack.
It’s all smoke and mirrors, just splitting hairs to reinvent the wheel
and walk the red carpet for a quick buck to pay as you go
Heaven help us,
I believe there's an app for that.
a dashing ballpark
in the year 1913
drawn to atmosphere
10/2/2015
With one mighty swing of your forty-two ounce bat,
out of the ballpark was where the baseball was at.
A great player blessed with athletic prowess,
you made the ball travel like a nonstop express.
You were Wampum, Pennsylvania's native son.
As far as sports was concerned, you could not be outdone.
One of the Major League's feared sluggers you would be.
Many opposing pitchers became filled with anxiety.
An outstanding career was something you could claim.
I still wonder why you are not in the Hall of Fame.
Yes, you were better than many who played the game.
May you rest in peace as they will remember you name.
Dick Allen
(1942-2020)
I could smell the ballpark in my glove
Lose myself in the crooked sky above
Hear the roar of the crowd in my bat
Oblivious to your epitaph called stats
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
So you bought a curse named Ruth
Not to mention 26 Octobers to boot
Did you do it to spite this game
Integrity sold for the price of fame
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
You built a cathedral from which to boast
Helped the Babe exorcise Gehrig’s ghost
Buried Maris beneath a Mantle of shame
Sleeping with a bottle and two dames
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
Joltin Joe swinging that Marilyn clout
The mighty Casey you struck out
Too old for a springtime affair
Welcome Jeffrey Maier
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
Three times a charm in the Bronx zoo
Reggie’s knockin them out, Billy too
Who needs a bookie if you have a boss
You can bet you’re fired after a loss
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
Beware the seduction of pinstripe sin
Immortalized by Jeter’s cocky grin
Four more pennants in five years time
Selling out is winning’s soul crime
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
So tell me George, when will it end
Is 200 million a salary cap or a trend
If it’s a general manager you seek
I hear the Devil comes real cheap
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I pray
Damned Yankees
I could smell the ballpark in my glove
Lose myself in the crooked sky above
Hear the roar of the crowd in my bat
Oblivious to your epitaph called stats
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
The green field
spread out
in front of us
The smell of beer, pretzels, hot dogs
The cheers from the crowd
memories flood through me
on this desolate winter day
Slush on the ground
Cars whizzing by
I sit here on New York's
fabled Lower East Side
and remember good times
at the ballpark
Mays, Shamsky, Kranepool and above all Stengel
Names which light up the sky
for thousands of fans
in this metropolis - Baghdad on the Hudson
my home - NYC
Jackie Robinson and I go way way back
To the spring of nineteen forty-six
A Montreal ballpark on an April afternoon
The day the world was transfixed
The color barrier that existed in baseball
Was about to come crashing down
After many decades of ugly discrimination
Jackie would become renowned
It would take a special kind of individual
To withstand all the slurs and abuse
Young Jackie knew what he'd have to endure
But it was not his nature to refuse
Having a strong and tenacious personality
Not known for giving up a fight
Jackie settled in for a long tough struggle
On which he had long set his sights
It's a time in history I'll always hold dear
That momentous day back then
Forever after ingrained in my psyche
I witnessed this champion of men!
My Dad and I were late arriving at the ballpark.
When we arrived, it was the bottom of the first.
As we entered from the passageway to the left
field bleachers, the crowd was cheering wildly!
I looked to my right and believe it or not
Jackie Robinson was stealing home!!!
This image is ingrained in my memory!
Jackie Robinson and I go way way back
To the spring of nineteen forty-six
A Montreal ballpark on a April afternoon
The day the world was transfixed
The colour barrier that existed in baseball
Was about to come crashing down
After many decades of ugly discrimination
Jackie would become renowned
It would take a special kind of individual
To withstand all the slurs and abuse
Young Jackie knew what he'd have to endure
But it was not his nature to refuse
Having a strong and tenacious personality
Not known for giving up a fight
Jackie settled in for a long tough struggle
On which he had long set his sights
It's a time in history I'll always hold dear
That momentous day back then
Forever after ingrained in my psyche
I witnessed this champion of men!
© Jack Ellison 2013
My Dad and I were late arriving. When we
got there it was the bottom of the first.
As we emerged from the passage way to the
bleachers, the crowd was cheering wildly!
I looked to my right and believe it or not
Jackie Robinson was stealing home!!!
This image is ingrained in my memory!
I stepped out onto the baseball field of life
Nervous flutters stirring inside me
Realizing it was my time
My time to bat
Sweaty hands
Nervous stomach
Sweat rolling down my forehead
Nothing was going to stop me
I got in position
I lifted my bat
I closed my eyes
I took a deep breath
Trying to relax myself
It was my time
Yes, my time
Trials and tribulations won't hinder me
Hardships and persecution won't discourage me
I'll survive no matter what
I won't walk away
I won't give up
This is what I've waited for
A chance to fulfill my dreams
Dreams the Lord has given me
This is what I thought to myself, as I stood there gripping my bat
My face covered in sweat
My heart pounding in my chest
As I prepared to swing at whatever came my way
Maybe I'll hit the ball out of the ballpark today
So I braced myself, as the ball made its way to me
Here it comes
Here it comes
I closed my eyes
And I swung
And………
And, what's next?
Hair in a pony tail, ball cap on.
Wearin’ my team colors, ready to rock on.
Husband agitated cause I’m makin’ him wait.
Hey, gotta have my face on, I gotta look great!
Finally at the ballpark, game already rockin’.
Peanut shells crunchin’ quickly walkin’.
“Excuse me, Pardon me”. Finally to our seats.
Hot dog and a beer. This is hard to beat.
Into the first inning and our team at the plate.
Ooh, it’s my favorite player and he is lookin’ great!
Strike one. Ball one. Strike two and then,
A crack as wood meets leather and that ball is gone forever.
As one, the crowd roars and on our feet we stand and grin,
We watch our hero round the bases and bring that first run in.
Back and forth the score goes; it’s the bottom of the ninth inning.
Two outs already, bases loaded, our last chance at winning.
Crowd silent, on our feet as my hero takes his stance.
Only down by one, we know this is his chance.
They’ve brought in the “closer”, the one with all the skills.
He’s throwin’ heat, he’s throwin’ low, he’s going for the kill.
A nasty strike zooms o’er the plate and a collective gasp is heard.
My guy steps back, deep breath in, and not a single word.
Ball one is what the next pitch is and the crowd begins to whisper,
My batter glares toward the mound, “That all you got there, Mister?”
The pitcher shakes off two signals from the catcher,
Checks the runners on the bases, winds up the widow maker.
Like lightning that ball leaves his hand, and with a mighty swing,
He hits the best homerun grand slam that we have ever seen.
Our team has won, the crowd goes wild, the stadium is rockin’!
Our boys are roundin’ those bases and not a one of them is walkin’!
Hand slappin’ our seat mates and huggin on each other.
A long night of baseball ended. Don’t you just love those boys of summer?