Best Batted Poems
She jiggled like pink jello into the store
with platinum blonde hair and red rouge on her face
the shoe clerk mumbled it must be 1950's day
watching her strut around with a hanky made out of lace
She said hi hon you know why I'm here
he replied let me guess, you wear a size eight
she said well if the shoe fits I might as well wear it
and maybe later if you get lucky you can be my date
So she scouted around and found a pair
and sat down with tight dress flair
he thought to himself I think I'm in love with Mae West
looking her up and down and at her chest
He gently took her foot and slid her old high heel off
his hand sliding up and starting to cruise
she batted her eyelashes and said oh keep it coming, she toyed
saying, why don't you come up and see me later big boy
With that he winked and slid the new heels on
watching her walk around like Mae West
she said you know I know you like me big boy
but my eyes are up here and not on my chest
With that he gave her a long wolf whistle
and said you know I just can't resist
now stop acting your shoe size sexy
pulling her towards him giving her a passionate kiss
She whispered hon is that your gun
or are you just happy to see me
he said guess what my little chickadee
tonight you can be my Bacall and I'll be your Bogie
With that she left the store with customers galore
staring, whispering and looking aghast
he said out loud, come on... get a life...
I know we're a little kooky, but she happens to be my wife!
2-7-18
Oh wonderful jumbleful spring
hormones awakening after winter naps
making bumbling idiots
out of unsuspecting saps
Oh dopey me, I bathed
perfumed, powdered and dusted
picked out slinky sexy things
getting more and more flust’ed
I skipped down the lights
and locked the stairs
let down the dogs and
tripped over my hair
“Dames Javid” I purred
“come sugar me some lip”
as I swiveled my eyelashes
and batted my hip
He tongued on his trip,
as he blew in my eye
then gazed in my ear
and heaved a big sigh
Ah, Springtime, it’s jumbleful
don’t you agree?
Cause pobody’s nerfect,
especially me.
Really? Where?
I still see them as fearful as fifty years ago.
To state any concerns about especially politics, and so.
Those fifty years ago when we wore little white gloves.
And batted our eyelashes like turtedoves.
And dared not utter a political thought....
For from my our husbands, our security was bought.
We have freedom now to slaughter our unborn at clinics.
We can wear pants and jeans and dress like men~
Pretending there is something chic in it?
Who are we just Betsy Ross?
Just to sew flags, keep our mouths shut and sit on garden moss!
What woman here will openly oppose abortion? (One, me)
That or you'd have to pay her much or face poetic extortion.
All the lantrenes and lovely shape poems we create.
Have ever, any, warned us that loss of our liberty is at stake?
So, given! A strong stance might douse your popularity.
And tarnish your chances forever to the owneer of a trophy be!
But a country under censorship is no way to live.
For our progeny's future, why the fear of a political missive?
2/24/2021
~2~
The egg came and grabbed me, out of bed.
Shook me awake, smacked my sweet head.
Demanded to know what I had seen.
I plead the fifth, afraid of his mean.
I acted innocent, but it did not convince.
He batted me a bunch, made me wince.
So I am here officer, to simply plead and beg.
I need some back up, to get rid of this egg.
The seasoned officer sat back in his chair,
Lit a cigar, acted like he did not even care.
Aren’t you the same one? He finally asked.
Who wanted us to arrest a balloon in the past?
A Pet Peeve
By: Olivia Rodrigue
A smile that reeks desperation
A mascaraed eye batted intently
Your falsified figures and fancies
Undermine others of my generation
To think that a woman is only
Aesthetically valued and won
Is a peeve that’s been maddening many
But thought significant only by some
They bray at braless feminists
Thinking that these are the crazy few
Feminism means makeup-less monsters
That degrade men-as bitter shrews do
How can you laugh at oppression?
A word that history knows well
When minority rights and reactions
Have shaped how we act-what we sell
They painted the greats as extremists
They called activists nearly insane
But the genius among us would not bow
To the pressures that society named
Therefore I say bring on your follies
For the truth of the matter will be revealed
Though you peeve me with your ignorant statements
The injustice- once hidden -is unsealed
In the beginning,
the wood floor’s purpose
granted ease of care.
Grandchildren, however,
took two running steps
in sock feet, and slid
all the way down the hall.
Sweet William and Petunia,
sent feline fur floating
through breathing space
as they chased one another
and batted toy mice
across the shiny planks.
The warm, wooden hue
furnished a fitting tableau
with the furniture
of our casual lifestyle.
Peace and contentment,
settled by design
on multi-purpose surface.
Penny Lane
Penny Lane is more than just the last stop on the number 62 bus
Far removed from that of today
Where the children spit and cuss
The place tourists go to experience and kick up a fuss
Penny Lane words depict a black and white portrait of history
A branch on every scouse family tree
That which mum and dad got to see
When they were teens
Today viewing Penny Lane through the lens on a tourists bus
You sadly wont encounter any of this
It's very strange the way Liverpool changed
The old barber shop has been replaced by a supermarket chain
The banker opted for a foreign exchange
He now runs the New York stock exchange
And Freddy the fireman who kept a picture in his pocket of the queen
Apparently batted for the opposing team
He turned out such a scream
The only thing to the naked eye that appears to have stayed the same
Are the Beatles flying in the park under the cover of dark
And in typical fashion the English summer
Is still pouring rain
Its very strange
Something's never change
Here beneath Liverpool's decaying blue and red suburban sky
I was born and and shall die
In baseball there is an unwritten rule;
Whenever a pitcher is in the process of pitching a perfect game:
A game in which he has yet to give up a hit, has not walked a batter and no errors have been committed
His teammates do not talk to him; he does not mention it; and, everyone leaves him totally alone
For fear of jinxing the situation and being the cause of the end to his perfection.
Do not mistake my silence for contempt
Do not mistake my lack of self promotion for disdain
Do not mistake my isolation for loneliness
It is just that I am in the process of pitching a perfect life
I am in the late innings of my baseball game
I have been fortunate enough not to have been batted about by any opposition
I have not experienced the misfortune of having anyone walk all over me
And my mistakes have not resulted in someone advancing freely to another base
My perfect game is in tact
My only hope is – I have not jinxed that fact by writing this poem.
Batter up.
Sue removed her Rayban sunglasses
Batted her long dark eyelashes
A consummate flirt
She smoothed down her skirt
Then scattered her late husband’s ashes!
Many friends turned up at the wake
Sue handed out sherry and cake
With hands on her hips
And cherry red lips
She didn’t show signs of heartbreak!
Her dear Joe had been buried one week
Sue went dating a rich Arab sheikh
With her sexy hairstyle
and her womanly wile
the future didn’t look quite so bleak!
Flirt Contest
Sponsored by Lewis Raynes
12~04~16
re-post inspired by Brenda's contest
THE HERO
Every Tuesday on the dot,I would be off to the newsagent like a shot.A solitary
sixpence,all my wealth to pick up my favourite comic from his shelf.Not the
Beano,Beezer,Dandy or Eagle...the Hotspur and Wizard were my kings regal.To
read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,sporting giant extraordinaire,batted
bowled and ran.
Soccer ,cricket were a piece of cake,he left all others in his wake.Give him the
ball and the game was soon over,he even outscored Roy of the Rover.Bowling
right armover,on a sixpence seven times from eight,well above average Wilson
was incredibly great.He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,never stopping to
take shower!
In futuristic black body suit,an English record breaker without dispute.My
inspiration,this imagined prince,never bettered then,before or since!
Days of youth, spending time tossing that white pellet.
Learning how to play was sometimes heartless
as losses were an injury which was difficult to take.
As time went, so did the misunderstandings of the game,
but instead left a deeper love for its nuances.
Where to move on each play, who covered which base,
cutoffs, and the defensive attitude in mind when on the field.
Looking to see if the coach had enough faith
to put your name in the lineup for that day's game.
Every pitch became important. Every batted ball became the
hit you wanted. Every member of the team became your friend for life.
Don't let them down with an error or strikeout. Be their hero
with the saving catch or drive in the winning run.
Baseball on green fields
Pastime of all my summers
All American game.
I`m Sailing
I was sailing along the coast of Greenland the sea was
as green as empty Port Wine bottles when
a storm struck it was a fully automatic boat I batted down
the hatches went below fastened the seat belt and wait.
Before I knew it, I was in a tranquil bay in Portugal and made
breakfast scrambled and bacon, but I was vaguely unhappy
everything has become so automatic that adventures of
daring do had become an everyday occurrence the vessel
had even found the best anchorage with
the best view.
I sold the boat to a doctor who had dreamt a seafaring life
away from hospitals and nagging wife, as a child he had
wanted to be a car mechanic but his parents wouldn`t hear
about it nor his fiancé; a malcontent man who was about to
discover the boredom on the high sea.
I bought a mule that cannot be trusted it doesn`t like people
and every morning it is a struggle to get it to move forward
when I plough my little patch of land
You put up the numbers
Year after year.
You faced every pitcher
Having no fear.
You have a great eye.
The best of them all.
You made it look easy
When you contact the ball.
A pitch in the strike zone
You gave it a slap.
Singles and doubles
Were scored in the gaps.
Over two hundred hits
Five different seasons.
Over thirty-one hundred
Hall of fame reasons.
You batted an average
Three thirty-eight.
Over twenty straight years.
I'm just saying that's great.
Eight batting titles
With the very same team.
For today’s average player
It's only a dream.
Out in right field
You were a cut above.
And for your great play
Won five golden gloves.
You stole 300 bases.
Most never knew.
Your career strike outs
Were so very few.
So now you stand
In the hall of fame.
As one of the greatest
To have played the game.
Da Baseball.
The team was at home
But not so I.
The train had rolled for many a mile.
I observed many a smile.
The subway was not to make my day.
It smelled, oh that way.
The home team was expected to win.
But all I could do was spend.
The other team put a man on first, I began
to suspect the worse.
With a thirst the batter batted, the pitchers
pitched and I just bitched.
The organ sounded, the home team grounded.
I thought the gates to be well rounded.
The final pitch hit the bat the crowd said
Oh rats.
The baseball went beyond all as they scorned
and looked forlorn.
There was one thing we all rather doubted,
The last man was out
You moulded me to your perfection then bounced me around the room
to show ownership of me to your friends
So I purred and smiled and batted my eyes
Acted asthough I enjoyed it
I loved all of them the way you taught me
So you were pleased for a while
For a while I was safe
You bent me out of shape and pushed me as far as I could take
So I tried to smile and bat my eyes but I couldn't help but cry
It made you happy for a while
These chains swing and hurt my wrists as they break and cut my veins
I'm lying here alone unclaimed
I wish to feel the hurt again
I want the tears upon my face
The cold gleam in your eye
I need you to be happy for a while
The darkness stinks, I'm in disgrace all used up a broken face
Bones are broken beneath the skin
I love your smile you've such a grin
Now at least your happy again