Best Baseball Bat Poems
Like the sun lights up the sky,
A little girl when she was born,
She snuggled right into our hearts
With heaven's sparkle in
Her eyes stole her papa's heart.
He became her nanny and cradled
Her to sleep, there was no bed
Comfortable enough,
but only in his loving arms
Until it was time for him to leave.
He was "mama" until she was two.
He would try to correct her;
"No, Papa."
She'd say, Mama with a smile.
He nourished her little mind with
Nursery rhymes and songs.
He taught her Math, English, and Spelling.
Taught her to ride her first tricycle,
To hold a baseball bat
And keep her eyes on the ball.
To kick and pass a soccer ball back and forth,
He cheered the loudest when she outran the boys.
Love between both of them unconditional.
She's now thirteen, with a smile that beams like sunshine
And eyes like stardust glistening, our greatest joys;
A garden scent where mums and sunflowers flow.
Having outgrew grandpa, it was grandmas turn;
Grandpa encouraged.
Her extra sunshine, giggles, laughter, and happiness
That come from deep inside when we shop
For party dresses, make-up, and
Once in a while a bookstore.
A photo-shoot on a footbridge or garden,
Lunches at Olive Garden or Gringo's for Mexican food,
And ice cold-fruity slushy drinks before going home.
She would text and still does to say,
You and grandpa or the best grandparents ever.
This little girl that that lights up the sky rules our hearts.
11/11/2019
Poets, you've been expressing your opinions on politics
Some were very nasty, like oil and water, they don't mix
Some 'discussions' have gotten rude and very hostile
It's truthful facts vs. fictional lies, all spewed with bile
Can everyone stop bickering and put your theories aside
Believe what you will, but stop being sarcastic and snide
It doesn't make a difference what any of us choose to think
The world is out of order right now, completely out of sync
I'm annoyed by being told, "covid is just a hoax." It's real!
Go ask the families of those who have died, how they feel
Don't send me to videos with what you consider is proof
I'm capable of reaching my own conclusions. I'm not aloof
America isn't gone. We're much more resilient than that
Our Constitution wasn't written as words of silly chitchat
We've not been destroyed by acts of deplorable lunacy
We've no need of a funeral, so don't prepare a eulogy
Poems and blogs that cause tension, worries and woe
will not lead us to write better poetry, so just let it go
Please stop using your pen like a weapon; a baseball bat
to grand slam insults. Poets, we should not be in combat
He was known as Joltin John
With his baseball bat and his cap upon
He played the game with vigour and speed
Many a supporter said he was all that they need
Was born Guiseppe Paolo DiMaggio number eight child
Lived in America for his eighty four years 'til he died
Played as centre fielder during all his career
With the New York Yankees, who he held dear
Described by some as an uncaring brute
Responsible for Marilyn Monroe sliding into disrepute
With sedatives and such by dominating her so much
Controlling her career to stop her kissing men and such
He craved the limelight just for himself
Yet disliked Marilyn doing the same herself
Yet on the field he was no freak
Known for his 56 game hitting streak
Was MVP winner three times with determination
An all star in each of his thirteen seasons
You will find him in the baseball hall of fame
Look closely you will see his name
Was voted as sports living legend of all time
Was the baseball centennial year of nineteen sixty nine
His first wife was Dorothy Arnold an extra on the film
in which his minor role endured her to him
Married for just five years a son was born
Carries the name of Joseph John
In later years after the Arthur a Miller charade
DiMaggio rescued her from the tormented life she had
Would sit and read poetry on their latter years
Finding a Contentment that slated all fears
So this man had his bad points and good
Needed to reach his soul to be understood
Deep down inside he loved Marilyn for sure
This we will never find out, cos he is no more
He stands alone high in his baseball we surely know that
As a father and husband on his nose he fell flat
.
Remember when we see these idols it's all outer skin
We will never ever know what they are thinking within.
penned 20/4/2015
Dad gave me my first wood baseball bat
an Eddie Mathews signature model, 28 inches long
when I was 10 or 11 ('66 or '67)
shortly after he got me my first lefty glove
(I still have it, so small! with a bullseye crudely hand inked in the center!)
after a few years, it splintered near the handle
I tried nailing it back together, the hickory
shaft was tough to penetrate, but I kinda got
it done, then wrapped the job in some electrical
tape I found
whenever I tried using it again, hitting a pitch
sent shivers thru my hands and wrist like a
lightning bolt shocking me
before long, I left it in the sports closet Dad built
into the canned goods cabinet in the basement
he made for fall canning
so whenever I opened the cabinet door, the wonderful
smell of wood and leather combined with the
rows of gleaming jars of fruits and vegetables
delighted me!
canned beans, peaches, pickles and more
all lined up to select from when Mom or Dad
would send me downstairs to choose side
dishes for supper
frozen meat was kept in the 8' freezer chest
in Dad's workroom thru the door
being sent for that was a special privilege
my brother and I relished
( my sister, being 3 years younger, didn't get many chances!)
I remember there were honorary sports relics in
the closet on the top shelf
a leather football helmet Dad's Uncle Depot wore
before WW11 along with his old softball, the kind
with the exposed seams (I still have it)
wonderful memories
from a
magical time
I will always treasure
© james marshall goff
My mother went to heaven on the day that I was born
My father raised me up before my mother he would join
He said, “Son, to get to heaven you must live a good, clean life
So you can go to meet your mother and see me with my wife.”
So, I tried to be good and I followed the golden rule
I did what I should and I was obedient all through school
I shared what I could and I read my bible every day
I tried to avoid evil thoughts and never a hurtful thing I’d say
The kids picked on me and “goodie-two-shoes” became my name
But, because I had a mission my actions always were the same
The road to meet my mother was a path to be kept clear
So bullies had their way with me – no retaliation need they fear
After my father passed away I met a beautiful young girl
She was everything to me; she was the rock in my empty world
We got married in the Summer; she was carrying my child in the Spring
I was looking forward to being a father to this miracle she would bring
I was working at a charity when they broke into my house
My wife tried to hide from them, being quiet as a mouse
They said, “Oh look, its goodie-two-shoes’ home, lets burn it to the ground”
When she yelled at them to stop this act, my wife was finally found
I won’t say what they did to her – the details I will spare
When she said, “My husband will soon be back”, they said, “What do we care”
“Goodie-two-shoes shares everything, of course he’d share his wife
Besides, that man’s a coward; we can do just what we like.”
When I came home and saw her, my mother spoke into my ear,
“Don’t worry about heaven, son, I’ve always been right here.”
I took my wife to the hospital, where they said she’d be okay
Then I went to find those bastards and wipe my life of good away
When they saw me approaching they laughed right into my face
With the first swing of the baseball bat I fell from heavens’ grace
Two men were unconscious before the third knew what to do
The bullet that he shot at me, my shoulder it passed right through
Justifiable homicide – on probation for ten years
My wife and son at my side, there is happiness in my tears
My mother and father visit me every night in my bedtime dreams
I didn’t need to take that path to heaven – or so, at least, it seems
Maybe he ate his vitamins and their minerals and oranges and apples all at once again and again
Or ran laughing down the rugged rocks of a ruthless reality
Maybe he flew singing up to the cold concrete ceiling on a chair
Or drank dated dark liquid from a damp factory dumpsite
People think his lungs liked lighting the lily-white smoke they lived on
And I’ve even heard he sullenly slit several sections of his wrists so he could sign a letter
Maybe he jumped joyfully in front of a jeep window that had Jesus joining hands with Judas for prayer
Or pressed the pallets out of the pistol till the pieces pierced his parched throat
Maybe he took tablets off the table till they took their toll
Or cut carelessly into his chest’s cave and coincidentally revealed his heart
People say he bashed his brains out with a baseball bat
And some are sure he sucked in air and sat still till his stomach swelled
I say he lived life and loved and loathed
Living always kills you too quickly.
I am bored with math.
Two plus two always equals four.
Why can't it equal an ice cream cone
Or a trip to the candy store?
Four plus four always equals eight-
Never a video game,
Or a Disneyland vacation.
No, the answer's e'er the same!
One times one always equals one.
Where's the fun in that?
I'd love to see the answer be
A brand new baseball bat!
by Cherie Durbin
Fond memories of Halloween as a child,
and times spent with my own children
have me feeling nostalgic today.
I recall the excitement felt as the holiday grew near.
The anticipation of wearing a fun costume
and knocking on neighbor’s doors
who welcomed us with delightful goodies
and candy, lingered well after Halloween.
It is my favorite holiday because it is the special day
we celebrated my three children’s birthdays.
They were born on November 1,3, and 5.
There was not enough funds to have three birthday
parties so close together, but my children never minded.
They were delighted to celebrate all their
birthdays together on Halloween.
Planning what each child would wear as their personal
choice of costume was great fun and joy for me.
We usually made our own costumes and I enjoyed
the creative ideas they would come up with each year.
One year we had a pumpkin piñata that was a big hit
with all the kids in the neighborhood who
invited themselves to the party.
My son finally had to take off his blindfold and
beat the heck out of the pumpkin with a baseball bat
because it refused to give up its goodies after
everyone tried to break its sturdy sides.
Candy went flying everywhere out into our cul-de-sac
street and there was a mad scramble to see
who could pick up the most candy.
My son has passed away now, and this first year
of Halloween and his birthday without him
brings back smiles and tears of those happy times.
10-31-21
Happy Halloween Everyone!
I was swimming in the ocean enjoying it so much
I back floated and relaxed with my cousins Mat and Hutch
All of a sudden Mat broke my dreamy thoughts with a scream
The water choppy, he was carried swiftly up stream
Two great whites were fighting over which would eat my poor Mat
So I chased after them and I smacked them with a big baseball bat
Is this human being serious? The biggest shark asked the other
I do not know the other shark replied but she looks like my mother
I am a grandma you dopes I said and I smacked each hard on the nose
This the smaller one said haughtily is not how this kind of shark story goes
So I jumped on his slick back. I bucked, screamed, jabbed, and I kicked
And I punched him and bit him, making him mad; his skin was quite thick
This land polluter is crazy the great whites agreed with some flair
So they gave me my cousin whom they had tossed in the air.
Because I liked it I gave them another bat smack across their noses
She is horrible! The great whites said as I hit them with hoses
Sure I got Matt back but due to those shark bullies he now he had PSTD
His swimming suit was gone, so he was sheepish being nude in front of me
So Hutch and I threw off our clothes and we all swam in birthday suits
But those sharks never came back, so glad they were finally loose
If these racists be so plentiful
As them in power would believe.
There should be at least one found
Lurking... about my property.
How to catch this dreaded beastie
Was overarching on my mind?
So I laid waste my poor computer
To just see what I might find.
They are devoid of any substance
With a certain weakness 'bout the chin.
But the optimal way to spot a racist...
Is the color of its skin.
They are privy to beer and peanuts
With America's flag a source of pride.
But before they'd drive a Prius...
There's no law they wouldn't defy.
I take not a racist's capture lightly
Should one I chance to meet.
They are easily lured with a few simple words
And a flaming cut of beef.
With a healthy dose of patriotic fever...
I set out to numb this vile threat.
I grab my Mickey Mantle baseball bat
And my favorite fishing net.
I hide behind a Mulberry bush
To circumscribe this would-be menace.
Then give a loud shout... to them here about
"Three cheers for white supremacists!"
To my chagrin and stunned bewilderment...
There was no racist to be caught.
But a hundred media reporters
Suddenly swarmed my hiding spot.
They had no interest in abject poverty
Or an educational system past review.
But the chance to photograph a racist...
Well... that would front the evening news.
They waited through the morning
To appease their 'youtube' fans.
But with no racist's skin to log and capture...
They left to twist another plan.
I wandered home empty-handed
Stopping at a mirror aside the stairs.
With my apologies to them in power...
I still saw no racist there.
The End
*Fow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle.
I hear your screaming,
So I begin to shake
And hyperventilate.
I ask myself why I made such a mistake.
You get closer and closer,
With a baseball bat at hand.
‘Baby, I’m sorry for what I did,
But why you hurt me like this, I don’t understand.’
No sincerity did I get from my plea,
Instead you physically,
And verbally,
Abused me.
A smack in the face begins the ceremony
It hurt, I couldn’t help groaning.
Because sound escaped my lips,
Another encounter with the bat, on my hips.
The monster flees, leaving this poor girl in pain
Not realizing that there’s something wrong in what he did,
And that he’s mentally insane.
I lie on the ground
With broken bones,
And bruises covering every inch of my skin
And yet I don’t know why,
But I still love him.
NO!
Not now
Damn alarm
Feel like crying
Another Monday
I have to go to work
And still feeling so confused
Look at all those freaking stop lights
Touch me, tell me I am not dreaming
Will one of you damn lights turn green today
It's rush hour? How come we are not moving
Touch me again. With a baseball bat
Take me away from this nightmare
A tropical island please
I’ll touch that alarm clock
With a large hammer
No more Mondays
Feel better?
Feel good?
YES!
Vince Suzadail Jr
For Nette Onclaud's Touch me count -up and down contest
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
Hello carpet my old friend
She knocked me down on you again
Because in the house I was softly creeping
I woke her up while she was sleeping
And the splinters that were planted in my brain
Still remain
Within the sounds of violence
In restless dreams she was alone
My drinking she would not condone
‘Neath the stairway she knocked me flat
Busted my head with a baseball bat
When my eyes went dark and my hearing became dull
She split my skull
And touched the sounds of violence
And with my bleeding head I saw
What was meant by shock and awe
And I wondered what she was thinking
She was screaming about my drinking
People writing poems that no one ever shared
I was so damn scared
Of her Sounds of violence
Fools said I you do not know
When I fell I broke my toe
Hear my words that I might get first aid
In the bar is where I should have stayed
But my beer, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the walls of violence
That is when I bowed and prayed
That I could go back to second grade
And then she flashed out her warning
I felt a concussion forming
And she told me that the words of the warning will be written on the kitchen walls
Not in the halls
And whispered in the sounds of violence.
Parody of
Simon and Garfunkels Sounds of Silence.
Take me out to the kill people game
Turn me loose on the crowd
Give me some kidneys and backs to crack
I don't care who it is I attack
Let me bash, bash, bash as they scream loud
If they don't die it's a shame
Cuz it's one, two, three strikes you're dead
In the old kill people game.