Best Baseball Glove Poems
The outfield boy stands waiting all alone,
playing the game that many children love.
From the pitcher’s mound, a ball has been thrown.
The outfield boy stands waiting all alone.
The ball has been hit. See how it has flown
straight into the glowing boy’s baseball glove!
The outfield boy stands waiting all alone,
playing the game that many children love.
Written Dec. 2015 for the Oil Paintings 4 & 5 Poetry Contest of Eve Roper
I was going through some boxes,
that were packed-up years ago.
Thinking I could throw away some stuff,
How much I didn't know.
A lot of it just made me laugh.
Why it was kept, I can't recall.
Our thinking wasn't really wise,
it made no sense at all.
Everything was going fine.
I was progressing rather well,
until I opened up a certain box,
my eyes began to swell!
Inside was my first Baseball Glove,
much to my surprise.
My mind filled up with memories,
tears filled up my eyes.
It was on the day that I turned twelve.
over sixty years ago.
It was a gift my father gave me,
a gift I treasure so!
The glove was what I wished for,
but I didn't ask my Dad.
I knew he couldn't afford it
cause times were really bad!
He brought it for me anyway,
I didn't know what to say.
Two months later, due to a heart attack,
my father passed away.
I'm sorry it was packed away.
That was my omission.
From now on it's in plain sight,
in a "for all to see" position!
I'm never gonna give it up,
this glove I got from Dad.
It's the greatest gift I ever got,
from the Greatest Friend I ever had!
Contest by: Paula Swanson
Contest Name: Yard Sale
Sponsor: Paula Swanson
Who Gave Me #1: Paula Swanson
Opinion: It's my favorite because of what
it represents, a tribute to the best friend
I ever had.
The dog's at the door
Leash, collar, mask, rubber paw pads
The cat's doing three to five for
Shredding the toilet paper
The FBI fingerprint lab
Has ceased operation
Arrests are down
Everyone's wearing rubber gloves
And a mask
The Care Bears......DON'T
Virtual kisses smudge the screen
Virtual bar rooms
Together....but drinking alone
I caught the children watching
The Great Escape
My grandson now sleeps
With his baseball glove
My granddaughter stole
A spoon at supper
So how's your sanity holding up??
Walking through the streets of my home town
Reaching for the Memories of days long passed
Seeing nothing of what I once knew
Accepting the fact
That I can never go back
To the time when doors remained unlocked
And no one ever knocked
When a whole section of town converged on one home
A death in the family brought neighbors to your door
There was a sense of community and
Dignity was not a status symbol
Wednesday's the miner rested
In the afternoon possibly at a local bar
While clothes lines decorated back yards
Clorox making it new again
Found a quarter equals five on the pinball unless
She was there
Making three and two cokes a better selection
Baseball glove dangling from the handlebars and
there was no charge for dreams
The park beckoned the wild bunch with a pack of Luckies
Never thinking twelve was too young
And not knowing
The tragedy of progress
Those days when friendships bonded a town
Anger only lasted until the fight was finished
There was a game tomorrow night
Winner and loser going to see it together
And the only real enemy was
TIME.
my Macgregor glove
my other true love
for so many years
taken away fears
you made me a some-body
no longer a no-body
through high school and the navy
when my life wasn't gravy
after the divorce
life took a new course
but then it got worse
another divorce
after the first one
realized you were gone
the catches we made
I will never trade
thanks for playing ball with me
I knew had to set you free
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
The Hush of Christmas Past
It came more slowly then.
After Thanksgiving
the lights and decorations
started showing up.
The excitement started to build.
Santa showed up at the
department store, The
ads in the newspapers
were larger, some even
in color. There was talk of
“the list”, and “naughty or nice”.
It was agonizing – waiting for
the night Mom said “OK, let’s
go buy the tree”. The trip to
the back lot behind the
super market, “This one…
NO! THIS ONE!” We carried
the tree - by any means possible -
remembering Mom’s warning:
“Remember, you will have to
carry that big tree home.”
The tree was somehow decorated.
Lights, tinsel, bulbs, each one someone’s
favorite, ribbons, bows, a picture
of the cat. Now the speculation
began in earnest. “Whadaya
think you’re gonna get?”. “OH,
I hope, I hope, I hope”, “But I can’t
tell you, it’s a secret.” We knew there
would probably be sox, some new
PJ’s, mittens – the usual. But there
would also be those other nicely
wrapped gifts – from Santa.
The baseball glove, the skates,
the “un-wrapable” scooters, bikes,
baseball bats, hockey sticks.
These were always brought by
Santa Clause. Santa supplied the
dreams, Mom and Dad the gifts.
We provided the unmistakable
sounds of Christmas morning.
There would be church and a
Christmas dinner, lost amid the
joy of dreams. Dreams of snagging
that line drive with the new baseball
glove, of racing down the hill on
the bike, of Bobby Orr like moves
with the new skates.
The colored lights took their cue
from the setting sun as we gathered
around the table and savored the
sweet, juicy, succulence of Mom’s -
never to be equaled – Apple Pie.
John G. Lawless
11/22/2014
submitted to HUSH OF CHRISTMAS PAST – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Mystic Rose
Baseball Glove on gloves
Baseball bat, too cold to hold
Hurry, SPRING, Hurry
Inspired by Carol Brown’s “WAITING FOR SPRING “ Contest
Dedicated to the 2010 World Series Champions “Boston Red Sox”
Somewhere
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 and 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
Our old Plymouth wagon sits junked in the yard
Collecting pine needles and rust
Ten years of abuse and driven too hard
Now an eyesore, the neighbors might fuss
Chrysler Corporation was not at their best
Before Iacocca, I think
"Car lot got flooded but we did a road test."
The salesman said with a wink
A knock on the door, 'Wanna' sell that ole wreck?
I live down 'ar right crost the creek'
"How much?" 'Thirty bucks!' "Okay, what the heck?"
(He stuffs some more Skoal in his cheek)
"Whatcha' do with 'em?" I ask. 'Crush 'em!' He hacks
And spats on a flat balding tire
'Front 'uns look good, we'll haul 'er from the back
Now what did I do with my pliers?"
'Anything in 'ar you might wanna' keep?'
(The door handle sticky with sap)
A moldy child's baseball glove on the back seat
And a faded old little league cap
Slowly the wrecker-hearse jacks up the rear
It snaps and it groans in protest
"Thirty pieces, that's all? Please let me stay here
I'm tired and I just need to rest"
(It's backwards I tell you, something's not right
With the way that old car's being towed
So lonesome it looks, its hazy headlights
Staring sadly down at the road)
N/A in contest 'Pick a Title' judged on 11/13/2014
Dad was lounging in his chair, the football game had just begun.
Beside him with his baseball, glove and bat, stood his little son.
"Daddy, will you come outside and play some catch with me?"
"Not now, son, I want to watch the game, please let me be!"
"Daddy, will you take me fishing, it's such a pretty day,
And maybe we can have a picnic, if that would be okay!"
"Not now, son, find some friends and run along and play.
I'm scheduled to play a round of golf with my pals today!"
'Neath the tree Santa had left a beautiful, sporty Schwinn.
The lad was anxious to show it off and take it for a spin.
"Daddy, can you teach me to ride? It won't take you very long."
"Not now, son, maybe your Mother can, now please run along!"
On a winter's morn the ground sparkled with newly fallen snow.
The little fellow's heart beat faster, his face was all aglow.
"Daddy! Daddy! Will you take me sledding on my Flexible Flyer?"
"Not now, son, I want to read the paper and stay by the fire!"
Swiftly passed the years, the boy now had a family of his own.
He lived far away - his aged father called him on the phone.
"Son, please come to visit me, I'm so lonely and all alone!"
"Not now, Dad, I'm enjoying my son - a trip I must postpone!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
A granny in a brightly lit flower frock is neither a spinning wheel or a basket of multi coloured wools. Multi coloured wools are very very useful indeed for wool wafts wonderful warmth. And warmth is great when cold so never mind the harness in a three wheeled bin in the artic. Oh the whorl of semantic accolade is an issue for a tiny tissue and a tiramisu partying on a giant cliff face. Squarking squirrels sending signals swimmingly secretly sedately swift. A cloud worshipping a beacon is a beanie in a bun but not while the bun is sleeping. It needs peace and quiet you see and tantalisation can often christen the rite of passage in in even the mist tightest of skirts, shirts and dressed crabs. In a salad. Overtones of a butterscotch pantry never belittle a momentary pickle. Miserable money making mongrels make marvellous man made moons. And a jingle jangle.simmering on a stove is a one time initiation starting ship to a nonlethal Atlantic cruise basin where crudities are neither cuddles nor cute and anarchic apathy is swamped by an adjudical nun in a costume from the fourteenth century castle of the espionage for espionage is not a experience it is a an exact evenly economically excellent ecliptic eccentric eclipse. So all go hail the ring of the bell from the cooker. Ding dong ding then. Right isnt it? Playing football in a dough ball of glue is preferable to hand gliding in gloves of concrete. And a forthright pair of gloves are always leather in outlook and forward drive like a medium in a trance. Trembling trees throwing turnips thrice turning tormenting tortoises. Hahaha the time tick tock tick arguing with a baseball glove and a hat and a microphone stands with a bacon trolley. Hahaha missionary mishap makes many mingling monsters. Oh left heel clock clock right heel click. Great. Fantastic isn't it? Xxxxx evolutionally z z z z z
Do you remember when love was more than a four letter word
And holding hands walking down the street
Doing a matinee on a Saturday
Feeling the rhythm of the music in your feet
Playing baseball on an abandoned lot
And how the girls could turn your head
Sneaking that cigarette behind the house
Getting your first kiss and turning red
A nickel bought a candy bar
A penny bought a picture of a movie star
Go for a Sunday ride in the family car
A baseball glove dangling from your handle bar
Do you remember when Mom read us a nursery rhyme
Hey kids, what time is it? It's Howdy Doody Time
The Falcon and Shadow were fighting crime
You could find anything in the Five and Dime
In the drug store, you could get a cherry coke
The smell of the bus when it left all that smoke
Playing chase tag on the street at night
Running through fields, flying a kite
Picking flowers for Mom on the way home from school
Meeting your classmates at the community pool
School shopping right before Labor Day
Saving your money by putting pennies away
In spite of the hardships and all of the strife
Honesty was a way of life
We grew inside from what we learned
We didn't accept it if it wasn't earned
Pep rallies before the football game
We knew each shop and the owner by name
Do you remember when life was innocent
Do you ever wonder where it went?
Look at me
And tell me what you see
I'm more than just a girl
It goes deeper then sexuality
My blonde hair cant stop me
From putting on that foot ball helmet.
And my manicure cant stop me
from using a baseball glove.
My pedicure can't stop me
from putting on those cleats
And my "fragile" body
Can't stop me from doing karate.
So, the impossible,
well, that just got upgraded to the I'm possible.
I bare more pain then you can.
Yet I live by more natural joy then you can.
I am just as good as you are
Just because I am a girl doesn't mean my successes are mediocre.
You’re my Dad that proudly introduced me to the race cars and sports, from spark plugs & curve balls to the other manly cool sorts!
You’re my Father that explored with me the adventures of hunting and fishing, from staring down the gun barrel and watching the line & wishing!
You’re my Mentor that taught me the hard work of laying the ceramic tile, along with constructive criticism and sometimes keeping your smile!
You’re my Friend that always delivers compassion and sincere love, and you understand what it means from our “God” up from above!
You are a Christian that knows the true meaning from wrong versus right, because I have witnessed you kneel down and silently pray in clear sight!
You are a Man with honesty and of integrity at its very best, knowing you don’t have to prove a single thing for anyone or all the rest!
You always Gave me purpose with knowing the right direction, and yes it came with my hard earned mistakes and sometimes with your correction!
You always Gave me unconditional love and many well deserved lessons, along with a new left-handed baseball glove and all of your blessings!
You always Gave me lots of joys and my two wonderful sisters, along with lots of toys and the meaning of hard work that came with some blisters!
You May Be Known as Father or Dad and maybe even sometimes as Pop, but always remember, my devotion and love for you will never ever stop!
Happy Father’s Day