Best Bat Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Bat poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of bat poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Bat poems, articles about Bat poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Bat poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...



New Bat Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Bat poems are below this new poems list.

Ode to My Barbed Wire-Wrapped Baseball Bat by Salmonson, Jessica Amanda
Bat Out Of Hell by Clarke, Dino
Again Off the Bat by Horn, James
Buri bat by Upadhyay, Ankita
I Wish I Could Be A Bat by Wanter, Sunlite
turkey necks and bat wings by flats, lim'rik
Blind As A Bat by Daniels, Shawn
BAT MY HAT WITH YOUR PAT by goyal, govind
Crack of the Bat II by Quigley, Tom
Crack of the Bat by Quigley, Tom
Bat by Fawcett, Nigel
Mosquito Bat by CHUAN SENG, KENG
Electric Mosquito Bat by CHUAN SENG, KENG
Rechargeable Electric Mosquito Bat by CHUAN SENG, KENG
A dead bat by Raynes, Lewis
My First Baseball Bat by Goff, James Marshall
One Man One Cap and a Baseball Bat by Roberts, Seren
Holy Teardrops Bat Man by Hofert, Edwin
Bat Wing by sheffer, dennis
Nat The Vampire Bat by Mika-Stevens, Genevieve

View all new Bat Poems

The Best Bat Poems

 
Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

An Eternity I

Stood upright, between two roads,
On a thin metal rail,
A solitary, brown coloured bottle 
Of beer,                                     
Sporting a red and whitle label,                      
Emptied and callously abandoned...
Just like the tin can of cider
Plonked down beside you on your 
Little polished mahogony table.                     
An unremarkable glass bottle,
As if a piece of submitted 
Street avant-garde left on display,                                             
Purposely discarded by some 
Unknown person or persons here;              
Whilst, with the whole passing 
World 
Seated in driving ignorance before 
It,
All existence dashing endlessly
Away                                                                          
When  frantically tumbling and 
Twirling
Inside the madly spinning,           
Half-rounded Hemisphere.                    



Somewhere, after enduring a short 
Commercial break...
Every advert dryly commented upon -
Each being accorded an equally
Dismissive and condescending stare,              
One in particular informing it's 
Disinterested audience
Of the frightful perils 
On developing pancreatic cancer,                  
A warm couch, motionless, 
Suddenly stirs and starts upwards 
Like a cornered panther                           
Snarling before the hunters gun!                 
Your sullen visage momentarily
Betrayed                                     
When briefly enraptured by dazzling
Images 
Of the shimmering Aegean:-
And you, swimming alone, in your
Perfectly constructed little rocky 
Idyll                  
Where brightly coloured shoals of
Exotic fishes teem; 
Then that reinstated glare,                    
Fiercely conveyed with all the
ferocity 
Of a blazing Grecian sun,                              
That perpetually resides 
In all its burning arrogance there!            



For I envision a single angry tear,
Pertaining to a faint hint of dark
Mascara,
Hesitating against a brushed 
Indentation
As if a last remaining,
Desperately-clinging, raindrop
Being pushed acrosss the oily 
Curvature
Of my panoramic windscreen...                            
A tear that contains, perhaps,
The whole of the worlds filtered
Oceans;                                                
The pitiless look in those wild, 
Turbulent eyes
Awash with the currents surging ebb;
Low utterances of broken trusts,
Unrequited love and misplaced 
Devotions...                                             
All precursors to oft repeated vocal 
Denunciations
Spawned from some unjustified,
Obscure, nagging doubt;                                   
Recalling my own dismal resignation's 
When knowing better 
Than to try and hopelessly intervene!                    
Same old recriminations and wearisome           
Accusations                                     
Now being muttered, I should'nt wonder,
Barely audibly throughout...                                                                                            
Will herald the onset of newly 
Assembled confusion... 
As you struggle wretchedly 
In preparation for another troubling
Dream!                                                                       



Overhead, lunar dignitaries, arisen  
From behind confinement of their cells 
Celestial bars...                                            
But irrevocably anchored to the
Impossible deeps;                                                 
Here, patiently awaiting, in all their 
Accursed immortality, 
The defeated Titans and great usurped 
Cronus soundly sleep;                                                                                                       
And a gathering together when offering 
Obedient prayers:-                                                      
Cloistered abominations of awakened
Stars -                                                                       
Whose exultation's shine brightly in
Dutiful obeyance -                
In worshipful praise of his most 
Hallowed regime!                                      
They whomst unashamedly dare to 
Brazenly gaze 
Upon portrayal of flushed irreverence;
Now attempting, albeit she greivously 
Offended 
Like a cast-out Angel,
To stagger up the step's defiant 
Incline;
Which, in supportive awkwardness, 
Stoically resists the steadying 
Advantages 
Proffered from thickly carpeted 
Stairs.                                                               
But I have long since fled.
For soon I will join the thining lines 
Of departing cars 
That invade upon the unearthly realm
Of flittering Bat and barred Nightjars.        


Please read part two.                   


Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Of Days Gone By

Sometimes I laugh
Sometimes I cry
Sometimes I dream
Of Days gone by

Life was hard, each day we learned
We never wanted what we hadn’t earned
A handshake at the bank was the only must
Lives were built on faith and trust

Friday night dances at the school’s old gym
Pledge of Allegiance and a morning hymn
In the Spring, caterpillars all over the trees
Stop at the candy store for jujubes

Pinball machines and wiffle balls
Growing to serve, duty calls
Decorating the car for the football game
Jumping in leaves when Autumn came

Watch a parade on Decoration Day
Visit the grave, a prayer we’d say
Meet at the diner after class
On Christmas Eve, go to Midnight Mass

Play in the street until well after dark
Climbing trees at the local park
Baking potatoes on an open fire
Riding  a bike after patching  a tire

Delivering newspapers in all kinds of weather
Put a nail in a bat to hold it together
Counting stars while lying in the grass
Standing under a pavilion until the rain would pass

Sometimes I laugh
Sometimes I cry
Sometimes I dream 
Of days gone by.


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2011




Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Cats Cats Cats

on...                                                     Oh!                  Oh!
                                                       What?              What?
                                                       Do you think of cats?
                                                     We have too many cats.
                                                   At least, they feast on rats.
                                                 Cats. (*) Cats! Cats! (*) Cats.
                                                 What do you think of that?  I
                                                 have seen them with a mole.
                                                 Dead, pulled out of his hole. 
                                                  A delicacy I once was told.
                                                       My cats are: Meow.
                                                 Some big fat- Meow!
                                       Rat-eating cats.  Meow!
                               I never see them eat a bat.
                        I guess at night, they sleep or chat.
                  Cats do not have wings.  They cannot fly!  
               My, oh my, will they wish someday to fly?
            At early dawn it is time to prowl.  Not for owls.
        Meow!   They hunt for snakes, insects, some fowl.
      Silently, sneakily, stealthy, spying, they P-o-u-n-c-e-!
     It’s survival of the fittest, kitty cat style.  Buy a bell.
    You may see them on the ground or in a tree looking
      down. Meow!   Sometimes they will play in the sand.
      Rolling, flipping around on every inch of ground.
       Or you might find them upside down flexing,
         Anticipating their morning prowl.  Meow.
              By and by, success is found.  
                  In their kitty bowl...  Meow. 
                   Smiles!  Meow, Meow, Smiles! 
                         Copyrighted on January 27, 2010


Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Hound Dog Tale

As the 
story
goes...

A
pesky
fly, 
came buzzing by
to rest and munch
and eat his lunch
and have some fun
on the hound dog's 
nose.

The old dog
snoozed 
without a clue
in the noontime heat
of the August
sun.

He
napped
awhile
by piles of leaves
in dappled shade
of the apple tree,
where an apple fell
and the flies said "yum"
and the bees would hum
and the dog would yawn.

That lazy bone
won't fetch a stick,
or scratch his neck
or care a lick 
about a neighbor's cat,...

That ornery
brat
will prance around,
will tease and taunt
the weary hound,
who naps so sound
on
this
dog- day
afternoon.

Hound has no pep
to take a step
to chase
or race
that snooty 
cat,
who
smugly rubs
against his back,
and sticks her nose
up to his snout,
and
sticks up her tail 
sashays about.

He hardly cares
that she is there.
She preens and cleans 
her own black spots,
She stares at him
he stares right back,
with one eye open,
one eye shut

He'll stretch a bit
and scratch a lot 
but it's too
hot 
to 
chase 
that
cat...

Don't
bat
your
eyes..
it's 
not a lie.

So
what
do
you
think
of
that?



_________________________________


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Dark Everywhere

A softer breeze blows his way
And a sunny day shines everywhere
Painting the sky blue and grey. 

But those hues are not for him,
For him it's dark everywhere
As if the earth never rotates
And dark moon stays frozen in place,
Like a perpetual solar eclipse
Dark of the world stays transfixed.

Of all the people he would like to see,
He would like to see his wife's face
In the twilight evening-sky bestows
When her loving posture glows
As she points to a beautiful rainbow.

As he hears the birds chirping
One thing he does regret:
He's never seen a bird's nest,
Having heard the hatchlings' cry
Never has he seen the birds fly.

When he walks his child to school
As people frolic in the day's glitter,
Of all the things that come to mind
One thing has bothered him for a while:
He has never seen his daughter's smile.

There are no road signs for him
Only the wisdom hand guides his path.
With borrowed eyes he works his farm,
And rides the wind to spin a ball,
And swings a bat with a mighty call.
Having felt this power in Angel's eyes
He wonders what God looks like.

Among the many friends he has
His wife is his best friend.
Among the people who love him
She is the best, love could ever find.
While all his friends believe in him
His wife is the only one who thinks
Her husband is not blind.

September 18, 2017
Placed 6th: premiere contest 15 by SKAT A


Copyright © Vijay Pandit | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Pain Game

Why do people, want to cause
Other people pain
Where is the Love 
That will break the chain

Someone says something
Then it's tit-for-tat
I've played this before
We all know the score
Now who's up at bat

I think it's time, for us to play
The self healing game
Before there's no one, left
Around to blame

One that's more thoughtful
And much less insane
Let's reach for the Sun
And help everyone
Come out of the rain

All we have, is this fleeting chance
To get this right
No time for jealousies 
No time to fight

Don't say, that you're sorry
Don't seek to forgive
Just start here today
And throw it away
And learn how to live
 






Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Baseball Card

And there you were - 
blue cap and jersey, white pants
bat held high above the shoulder
cocked and ready to swat one out
in that perfect stance of yours...
Shoulder turned, name half visible
(Proud you were to wear that name
Proud was I you wore that name)

Yes there you were - 
smiling that smile of yours...
Cocky, confident, ready-or-not smile
The kind of smile of someone who
was exactly where he belonged
exactly where he wanted to be
in that very place, that very moment
doing what he was born to do
Fulfilling his destiny...

(Yes that's my boy out there
Yes he IS a good player isn't he?)

So there you were - 
An all-star you were, oh yes, a star
a shining, glittering star but:
Stars are born to flame out, die
We are all born to die it is said
Seems only the best of us die young
and far too soon, too soon
You died too soon...






Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Granny Panty Annie, the Tranny

Lemme tell ya' about a
*ding-bat skit-zo 
bee-hotch* tranny
named Annie...

I met her one night 
under disco lights 
up at Candies

She was 
starin' at me
grittin' her teeth
aimin' ta' see 
if I wanted a piece
of he 
OR
of she 
by way of flashin' granny panties

She was
shootin' pool
actin' a fool
so I 
took a shot
and one tiny glance 
but got caught

So I
lit up a smoke
and tried to play it off cool
but it was too late
she had pulled up a stool

She slurred,
"Hey young felluh, where ya' been all my life!"

I replied, 
"Sorry to burst yir' bubble, but I got a wife!"

"That don't matter kid, what she don't know won't hurt the girl" 
as she fisted my collar and yelled, "I'LL ROCK YIR' WORLD! Annie the Tranny is what they call me. Bet you been wanted ta' bone me since you first saw me!"

Fear and frustration danced on my face
I begged the bouncer to 
"Get this he/she outta the place!"

My pleas were to no avail, 
and that sea donkey lurked hot on my trail
flailin' it's arms and grindin' bar stools with it's tail

Speakin' of tails...
a shiny blue wale tail crept up her back
Her jeans were mean, but couldn't hold her underwear's elastic slack
but at least it beat feastin' eyes upon her crack
then she... 
wrapped her grimy hands around my neck and asked, 
"You n' me, boy, what the heck!?!"

I screamed,
"Look here lady, you seem real nice for a tranny;
but...
ya' see...
ya' need 
to hit the bricks,
you
and yir' Granny Panties!"

At that point the joint started to really heat up
people were glarin' like they really wanted me beat up
I can't recall how the hell I got out of there 
alive and free
it was like a big manly freight train
headin' dead at me

I'm pretty sure I owe the good Lord a big favor
that beast was the devil
and Jesus was my Savior!

It's a night I thought would never end... 
the night at Candies Bar n' Grill
Granny Panty Annie got a thrill 
tryin' to make me her sexy friend!!!





Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Great Horned Owl

In the daylight hours, I spend  my time
So high on a perch, in a lofty pine
Where I fluff and comb my pretty plumes
And wait for the rise of the silver moon

I bob and weave on the top of the tree
Watching my world, in dimensions of three
My golden eyes fixed, on the fallen leaves
As I wait  for the night, so patiently

At the set of sun, and the rise of moon
In the Croatan forest, near Camp Le Jeune 
With a piercing screech, I take to the sky
On the wind, with silent wings, I fly

Over forest and swamps, on a winter night
Dipping and swaying like a wind-blown kite
In search of a rabbit, a rat or a bat
Until I find one, there's no turning back

Over Emerald Isle,  and wind-swept dunes
I fly, so freely, neath a silver moon
For miles along the  Atlantic shore
Engrossed in the din of that oceans roar

I hear from a distance, the stir of a hare
And see her dining, on sea grasses there
Her nibbling nose, like a lure, to my eyes
As I, with the speed of lightning, fly

Then swooping straight down, without a sound
I wrap my talons, so tightly around 
The slow, soft beat, of a dying heart
As bits of fur, fly away in the dark

A Great Horned Owl, I'm  a bird of prey
With the wind at my back, I make my way
With the chill of winter, a melt on my breast
I return triumphantly to my nest.

                         ~~~

For contest sponsored by  Eve Roper
Owls Personification 
Placed: 2nd

Written:  February 12, 2016

Elaine Cecelia George, of Canada


Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2016

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

VODGE DIPER

The day started badly as I had a bat flattery on my vodge diper

It was roaring with pain when I arrived at the par cark at the mall
Went to put my bopping in the shoot and I turned into a bowel feast
I’d had a blushing crow… there was a rent in the dear
It had been hit by a bunken drum  - I was mopping had!

He tried to apologise but was whiring his slords
I got out my phobile moan and a policeman cook my tall
He arrived at the mall in his canda par at the lead of spite
After my lad buck I went home to tell dumb and mad
Dad teased my ears, said I could use the buttle shush until it was mended 

Contest: Spoonerisms Sponsored by Roy Jerden
02~29~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Different Game

Friends and trouble go hand in hand.
Legends of the  neighborhood.
Like statues  and vacant buildings  still stand.

A crime in plain view no one ever saw.
Held hostage in fear.
The mouse sturggles to escape from 
cats claw.

Blood on the bricks  that stains my mind.
Time takes me away.
Yet never leaves the memory far behind.

Summers in the city nights run into days.
We turn are backs to the truth.
But in this game everyone plays.

Heros are villians  depending 
on who you are.
Stories told bout the other night.
Hidden truths  like the bat under the bar.

The players are future tombstones
Men glorified beyond there name.
the citys children caught within her  confines.
Forced to play a different  game.

 



Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

MILDEWED EXPECTATIONS

The rose colour of your mouth stirs something primordial inside of me – I smile along with you. Plump little hands reach for my face. I hold still while you explore my heart with a feathery touch.
When you are asleep, I look over the papers of your college fund. We could make it if we would forsake frivolities. It will be no hardship for me to do so. I smile contentedly. The boxer puppy lying at my feet; quite content– its stomach pink and extended: he ate too greedily (as usual). You will grow up together and share our unconditional love. The cricket bat, signed by the national team, takes pride of place in its brackets on your bedroom wall – a pale dove blue (matching the colour of your eyes). A gift from your dad – sure that you would follow in his footsteps. A rainbow of possibilities prostrate at your feet.
I check every now and again whether you are breathing. Sleeping soundly, neither a frown upon your smooth face, nor a care in the world. Your long, black eyelashes quiver slightly, as though following a dream – a dream we all shared: a dream of boundless expectations …
************** Exhuming long forgotten memories; mingling with my fevered tears – echoing my breaking heart. They lead you away. Assaulting the arresting officer had sealed your fate.
Mildewed expectations best laid to rest together with the memories of you.
The sky has lost its colour, as I step outside the courtroom. Inspired by: Closer By Chris Aechtner “If frozen within caged snapshots of mildewed expectations” 3 July 2013 Sponsor Debbie Guzzi Contest Name Referential


Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Chimney Swift

Chimney Swift

My precious chimney swift
Envy alone
Has named you so mundane
Tethered to the slightest pause
Amid your life upon the wing
Describing you as drab
Cigar shaped
And flying like a bat
While within me 
Your beauty burns
And I thank you so for that
For from my human complications
The conditions of my sin
You do so delightfully
Delightfully distract.


Copyright © Maureen McGreavy | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Goodnight Baby

I wrote a song that reads your name...
And lit a candle that sits near our frame...
I closed my eyes and whispered through a dream...
Then I awakened to a room lightened by the moon's beam...
There you rest, your eyes moving in a peaceful sleep...
I could just lay their for hours and with a heart so deep...
My fingers run through your hair as I lightly kiss your forehead...
Then my eyes start to flicker as I blow out the candle along side our bed...
I pull you close as a small grin on your face makes it known...
Without a bat of an eye you kiss my cheek and we are off in our zone...
Goodnight baby is whispered in the dark for only I could hear...
With the blanket pulled up tight we drift asleep as our hearts beat so near...


Copyright © Michael J. Falotico | Year Posted 2010

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Under the Boardwalk - An Erotic Love Story

Sheer poetry in motion with a picnic basket in hand Laughing brandishing a bottle as he lopes along the sand His handsome features completely wreathed in smiles Lifts and twirls me round - my squeal must be heard for miles These endless waves of joy just washing over me Savouring fine wine - splashing in and out of the tepid sea A sun-struck gold flecked beach with dazzling grains of light Sparks in my eyes can compete with the stars that shine at night The sounds of a distant carousel on a sultry wind drift With picnic basket in hand to a secluded spot we shift But thoughts of gourmet foods and drink are not on our mind Our sensual thoughts go in directions of quite a different kind He whispers that the fire in my emerald eyes are ignited Flames being stoked and the intensity of our ardour delighted His sensual stroking touch sends me into a whirl winded bliss If it’s a dream I wish it not to end in just a passion flamed kiss His feathered touch caresses my pliant thighs With broken moans and groans spaced ‘tween dulcet sighs Our touches more intoxicating than fine sparkling wine Areola aflame - warm wild sparklets fluttering down my spine In a bat of an eyelash all swimwear is discarded Concupiscent bare naked as when life was started My gem of desire pulsates a fire unsurpassed He’s a God against the sunset - an erotic work of art Spectacular shades of orange streak through a sky of gold The setting sun beckons and the blue water rolls Silver rippled water lapping all my contours, peaks and tips His toned muscles glistening captivating charms too hard to resist With trembling hands we caresses places so sacred Lips locked in a passion so intense it is fated As a humming bird sips nectar from a honeydew flower His majestic magnificence teases the door of my bower I whisper my needs with unrestrained passion He replicates his own with a wild abandon Guiding our passion into the fires of desire Rising eagerly to meet the thrusts of his fire Earth trembling eruption in this orgasmic burst We lovingly quench each other’s exquisite thirst Soul energies seeking manifestation on a physical plane In ultimate bonding of a zenith reached again and again As a tide of emotions - a crystal clear stream Wingless soaring high knowing this is no dream My body flows with the ocean like never before Knowing this is the guy I utterly love and adore
Video music clip - Eddie Lovette - ‘Under the Board Walk’ – ‘Lavishn's Reggae Bliss Collection (SUMMER LOVIN')’ Published on Mar 23, 2013


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Jogger and Logger

For "Show Me the Funny (part two)"

There once was a fellow a woggin'*
Who bumped into one who was loggin'
They had quite a spat
The ax was a bat
And the first had a lump on his noggin


* Woggers are those who get all dressed for jogging, but only go at walking speed, while vigorously pumping their arms to delude themselves that they are jogging.


Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Beaten not Forgotten

For BATTER or worse!
 
Tired of facing this bat-less ball
My life tied up and beaten to a pole, 
like the color black, the pain is endlessly
Facing life with no possibility
Facing life's judgment
The envy of all matters
A slave to my grave, with no redemption
Gathering the lies and insults
More powerful than a whip on my back
A trap with no way to disown and burn the tree
Falling far from - turnover tracks
Forgetting who I am, 
feeling the flaws of my abnormality
Finding comfort in a noose
Suffocated by what seems to be dry air 
Tired of living a life under self-brutality
Dying slow, darkness down a new path
Now I see, there's no escape

The more I see, the more I feel 
Hell's got my  running plate
My Beautiful beat but never forgotten soul
That's how my story unfolds
 
~ S ~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

WHO IS THE GIANT OF THEM ALL

WHO IS THE GIANT OF THEM ALL Animals or humans, who is the giant of them all? Bearing a two sheathed wings, the Hercules Beetles crash the Titans (beetle) growing more than six inches. Down the dirty waterways of China is the Mekong catfish extending at ten feet, tummy-filled with one full swallow of a child... Horrible! Godzilla in Japan's sea is the Nomora Jellyfish! However, the tipped nightmare fuel incorporeal spill is not at all hazardous. Jamison Stone, an eleven year old boy, killed almost, this wild giant hog of 1051 lbs. Lizards like the giant Salamanders aren't cute at all-- measuring six feet long: the largest of their kind! Nuisance to Australia's dangerous wildlife, cane toads, originally are found in South and Central America! Power and beauty quiets all his challengers when Percheron runs, runs fast in a horse race! Savory staple is the spider Crab but warning! Their claws can do some serious damage! Under a tree, don't be shock of the flying fox: vampires to sweet-juices of fruits in New Guinea... Weighing over a ton, Trigger is the cow for truckload of macs! Xenopos are Cameroon Goliath that can live up to fifteen years. Yes, humans are tough but compared to these behemoths, zings we have are just their toys! ______________________________________________________________________ ***Source: http://www.viralnova.com/giant-animals/ and http://diply.com/different-solutions/20-unbelievably-giant-animals/30768/4 ***nightmare fuel - stingray; flying-fox - bat ==Sponsor Name: Broken Wings== =Contest Name: Trashed #2= ==6th place== O. E. Guillermo 2:49pm, September 04, 2015


Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

One Man One Cap and a Baseball Bat

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





Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Ballad of Goodie-Two-Shoes

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


Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2014

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

THE VAMPERIC PRAYER-DRACULA'S OATH

In the name of blood, for it is the source of life itself,
Plasma's crimson essence of liquid infusion, to the undead's
Pulsating heart.
Intravenously feeding cravings passion, through the carotid
Artery at the throat of humanity, thou'st not love, suffer
The pleasure indulge the pain, the out come shall be the same,
To be embraced by the black ebony arch angel of death,
Release thy darker side, let the instinctual behavior of the beast,
Know freedoms unshackling at last.
Become one of his sacred disciples, a creature of his dark dimension,
A kindred being, unto the legion of the night.
In the moon's elliptical light, shadows thus move from 
Left to right, shifting as transparent figures, phantoms of
Illusions, taking winged flight, soaring on the currents
Of air mingling with their ancestral brethren, the vampire bat.
Run does not the lone wolf, along the side path next to man,
As we do so walk amongst them, yet never attempting to belong.
Oh are we not the a shunned, the accursed, by a God known
For his forgiveness, to love all living things under
Heaven, but for us this mightiest of lords, turns
His gaze away, not acknowledging our existence.
Our we not his lost sheep, missing from his flock, why
Does not this Sheppard seek this black lamb’s wool,
Is it too coarse for weaving's wheel, as it spins thus
And is it not said that he created all life within his image.
Nay I pray this vamperic prayer, why has he abandon
Us, the darker of his creations.
Behold the unascended, begging to enter beyond the gates
Of light, children of the lost are we, seeking a father blind
To his responsibility.
Harvesting, by the basic instincts given unto us,
Taking only what we need to survive, for this he has turned
Against us, and thus taking the light of day with him.
So my father of damnation's hell, has offered salvation's
Darker domain as a sheltering harbor of comfort, I will not
Abstain his patronage.
For I am the ashunned, living by the moonlight's haunting glow,
Yet yearning to see one last horizons sunset, but the Holy Father,
Hears not my humble vamperic prayer.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Batter Up

  I post on the Soup for all to see
  And am no angel nor claim to be.
    I am kind and all that
      But carry a big bat...
So beware how you remember me!


            February 2016

 For the Sensitive Community contest.
                





Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2016

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My First Baseball Bat

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


Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

VAN HELSING


A gentleman dressed all in black, hides amongst the shadow realm,
This inquisitions exorcist fights on the altar of justice
And faith, a white knight of the elliptical moon, defending
The mortal souls of humanity, on this thin veil
Between right and wrong!

So speaks the Vampire:
Yes we know of him, this defiler of the unsanctified tomb, the slayer of
The unrighteous soul, this doctor of doom, blasphemer to the powers
Of the supernatural, he enters the pitch dark paradise of my
Fathers sacred blackened temples, killing without mercy’s pity,
Those to helpless, and to weakened by hungers blood thirst, and left
Unable to defend themselves against him, this is the so called
Right hand of your Lord God!
Van Helsing, he’s know profit or saint, to what church or God
Does this mortal owe allegiance, is your Lord of divine love, so
Willing to see blood flow, than what makes him so different than
Our dark father, nay what gives this single man, the right to destroy,
That which took centuries to build, blood ties legions eons to infect, with
The poisonous evil of vampiric venom!
Weep do not the black angels of death, for their undead children
Of the night, oh cry mother vampire, as she pulls the crimson shrouds,
Over the mutilated corpses of her fallen young, swearing vengeance by the
Setting sun, in the twilight hour thy will be done, in hell or heaven, revenge
Shall be yours!

THE BATTLE:

In the Transylvania hills, a carriage rolls along at a break neck pace,
It races against the last rays of moonlight, into the rising sun beyond.
Behind the black coach a creature of darkness follows, not realizing death
Lies hidden within, it is Van Helsing!
Come thus daughter of darkness, meet your demon releaser,
Purification's baptized bat exterminator, let me cleanse your evilistic
Undead soul, by the power of the silver stake through thy
Unbeating heart!
But this she-vampire only knows the sorrow of the loss of
Her children, it drives the madness of revenge towards
The light of self-destruction, and waiting at the other end
Is a gentleman dressed in all black, who laughs at her pains
Agony!
The coach suddenly stops, and Van Helsing steps forth,
Enough of this cloak and dagger, I’m ready for you mistress of evil,
Come and meet your maker, by my mortal hands, so fast
In her flight the bat is entrapped, unable to slow down!
One shot it only took one shot, of a stakes silver arrow
To plunge through her broken heart, as the sunrise
Cascades through the forest trees, she the vampire
Screams why, have you done this unto me and mine
Kindred, Van Helsing, why?
Crawling across the ground as an animal defeated,
The bloody impalement oozing, dripping with the
Crimson fluid of life eloping forth, raising her
Fists of anger towards him, why she yells
Once again, why, than crumpling on the dirty
Soil of her childhood birth!

Van Helsing speaks:
Coldly saying its nothing personal child of darkness,
As the sun’s rays tare and singes at this poor
Creature crumbling before this death stalker,
This white knight of the elliptical moon,
Named Van Helsing?

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN



Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Melting Pot

The humid air sweats streaming curls down the toddler’s flush cheeks like Fusilli hot from the stove. The golden ringlets cling to her forehead, bouncing like Slinky’s in front of her, blue-agate, eyes. The backyard’s sounds-bat cracks and wise cracks-surround her. Squeals echo from the mounds of loam behind her new house. The homes out back form a red, yellow, blue, green monopoly board configuration.

The sand box she sits in is full of scrap two-by-four blocks. Using a naked purple-haired troll doll, she attacks the pine-block castle, tumbling the battlement. A plank spans the puddle 
(created by the leaky green garden hose). The barefoot tike, troll in hand, starts across the board toward the moonscape of mud mounds; where her sister and friends run screeching armed with rotten tomatoes. She almost makes it before falling in and running mud covered to mother.

Polish Catholics, Italian Catholics and Irish Catholics, lived side by side with English Presbyterian’s and we errant, runaway, Jews. The scent of tomato paste, knackwurst and borscht wafts through the same soupy air, where we play King of the Mountain. Big Boys and Plum tomatoes flew indiscriminately through the August air like missiles. The only thing which stopped the action was the distance ringing bell of the Good Humor truck, here on Cherry Tomato Alley. Here where each new neighbor had transplanted themselves: their children, their gardens, their sprinklers, and their cars to fulfill the American dream.


First Published in Melancholy Hyperbole Spring 2015


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015