Best Ump Poems
My heart
cr
ump
led
like the screwed up scraps of paper
now languishing in the trash bin
okay, so I write humourous poems ...
I rarely write 'free verse'
or 'perfect' iambic pentameter
yet you lambasted me
Your cruel words tore me apart
my writing style will NEVER be good enough to please YOU
So screw you...
YOU'VE WON
I QUIT
My pen will bleed no more
scaly scabs now prevent the ink from running ...
submitted to favorite free verse not for any contest
Sponsored by laura Loo
04~20~17
Our Seasons are a blessing, as they also represent
the cycle of life- and Spring is our symbol of Rebirth.
A nother Spring did come our way;
B egan late March, and day by day,
C ontinued to advance and urge
D ear Daffodils to soon emerge,
E nhancing scenes with pastel splash-
F orgetting drab of Winter's ash.
G reen life came forth with varied hues-
H ad driven Springtime's wakened muse
I nto a frenzy of rebirth.
J ump-started seeds, beneath the earth,
K indly spread Forsythia bloom;
L et Crocus sprout from Winter's tomb.
M agnolia blossoms, pink and white,
N ext painted days with pure delight.
O ur Spring brought Pansy's vivid shades,
P urple Iris, Sweet Pea cascades.
Q uick to grow, Anemones,
R ounded buds on Dogwood trees.
S lowly, Spring displayed her gems;
T iny Snowdrops danced on stems.
U nder bushes violets grew
V anishing bleak Winter's view,
W ith colors painting the new scene.
X anadu, our Springtime dream!
Y early blessings, seasons bring-
Z enith of each year- our Spring!
April 16, 2016 (revised 07/17/2020)
Contest: Share Your Blessings Poetically - Abecedarian
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
Alphabet learned
Before school
Counting too
Doing homework
Everyday
Frustrations
Guided
Her
Imagination
Jump rope
Kicked and
Laughed
Mostly
Night dreams
On to
Prom
Queen crowned
Rest some
Summer is here
Tomorrow
U
Visit jobs
Working now
X-raying bones
Ya-hoo I made it
Zoom through life.
Date Written:5/20/022
My paper is always turned so people don't judge;
because yes if it's vertical my work will be smudged.
With the other I've tried to write;
but man it just doesn't look right.
When I bat on that side
the ump runs to hide.
I can't even start on that foot,
my balance pretty much kaput.
And do not get me started on that 'right-handed thinking;'
to grasp that logic's like being on a ship that is sinking!
So over the decades I've often had to interject,
that being left-handed is the obvious 'correct.'
Watch him there behind the plate
The guy referred to as "blue"
"Hey blue, you must be blind!
How could you call that ball strike two?"
He takes the ribbing all in stride
Been doing this for many years
Loves the game, the fans, the kids
Lots of fun and yes, sometimes tears
To soon the season will be over and done
But next year the kids will come to play
The ump will smile and call "batter up!"
He'll be having fun just like he is today….
My husband has been a Little League
Umpire of many years. He loves it!
The sun is warm, the new mown grass is green
Nowhere else he’d rather be this summer day
In tune with his team and feeling fine
Batter up says the ump, its time, let’s play!
It’s a joy to be young and in love with the sport
Dreaming of someday playing ball as a pro
But for now it’s enough to have a summer day
To be a kid with a glove, bat and a ball to throw.
12/8/15
Image # 4
Baseball seasons here
Starts when summer is near
If the first baseman catches the ball
I hope the ump makes a good call
Eating sunflower seeds
Winning is what we need
That means school being out is near
Until next year
by jake doyle
patented genuine leather gloves
captivating our boyhood heroes
those same gloves flailing about
towards fly's we were supposed to catch
a glowing white ball with red thread
that begged to be rocketed into orbit
we dreamed of such heroics
pleaded to the God's for the power
most times we flailed there too
it was a tiny aspirin
that evaded mammoth sticks
eagle-eyed trembling lads tried and tried
at least three consecutive times
before retreating with lowered heads
and yet we swore we'd return
with vengeance upon our hearts
there were parents, encouraging
some hopelessly, others with zest
each and every ball pitched
held a lifetime of recollection to come
hopes that immortality would strike
inhale, swing....exhale, next
one by one we took our turn
learning life, the struggles, the joys
suckling each moment with precious breath
tomorrow didn't matter, this was the day
contact, wood upon a now scuffed ball
foulball the ump screamed!
a delightful sound
for it meant success
no matter how miniscule
clapping, smiles broad as the horizon
shoulder slaps, that a boy!
proud parents boasted
picnics were planned
even the diamond itself sparkled
it lived for moments such as these
ah the stories held within those fences
Part 2
thirty five years have gone by
our "field of dreams" now a grave site
ironic that coach Lou resides at homeplate
his stone reads "We lent him boys,
He returned young men"
a great tribute to his dedication
and love for the game
the grave yard littered with former players
however the mound lies bare
no hill, nor stone
only my own precious memories
one day, I shall play again.............
THEY SAY YOU ARE THE K-KING
I DON'T BELIEVE A WORD
SOMEONE SAID YOUR FASTBALL
WAS THE BEST HE EVER HEARD
THEY SAY YOU HAVE A FASTBALL
THE FASTEST OF THEM ALL
SHOW ME YOUR BEST FASTBALL
I'LL DRIVE IT OFF THE WALL
THEY SAY YOU HAVE A NASTY CURVE
ENOUGH TO BACK'EM DOWN
SHOW ME YOUR BEST NASTY CURVE
I'LL TAKE THAT PITCH DOWN-TOWN
THEY SAY YOU HAVE A CHANGE-UP
THAT LEAVES THEM WAY OUT FRONT
SHOW ME YOUR BEST CHANGE-UP
I'LL TEACH YOU HOW TO BUNT
THEN I STEPPED UP TO THE PLATE
I HEARD THE UMP CALL STRIKE
I DUG IN JUST A LITTLE MORE
THAT CURVEBALL TOOK A BITE
I WAITED ON THAT CHANGE-UP
YET SURE ENOUGH THEY'RE RIGHT
I TURNED AROUND TO FACE THE UMP
HE JUST SMILED AND SAID GOOD NITE
I BELIEVE YOU ARE THE K-KING
YOU'RE THE BEST I'VE EVER SEEN
YOU DESERVE TO BE BASEBALL'S
ALL-TIME STRIKE OUT KING
Michael E. Harris
Survey Of A Happy
life.
The question I was
asking:
The couple answered;
it's Good-Flavorful
and lasting.
It is fun and
uplifting
it's giving and
sacrificing
It is easy to
Identify
if you know the
signs.
Reciprocating,unselfish
It is hushed kisses,
smooth caresses
gentle movements
that induce deep-
gutted moans
it is pillow talk
and long walks-
A blood rush to
cheeks.
it is rocking chairs
and wheel chairs
It's thanking
God for each other -
for the ability
to remain meek.
And for our,
grandchildren
adored.. seeing the
past presented in
the
presence of their
eyes.
Enduring and over-
looking each
failure.
Sharing of favorite
stories for the
Ump-tenth time.
The prayers,the joys
shared, produced the
unity that made
us strong. Strong
enough together to
withstand disasters.
Escaping cracks
and sink holes...
We who know,know
the value of
these...
Also we see the
importance of
laughter.
We knew how to live
-
we knew love then
and shall, in the
hereafter.!
Batter up was the call from the Ump
Up came a fellow who was quite plump
The pitcher then threw
Strike one!, then Strike two!
He missed the third ball and fell on his rump!
Baseball and beer and a beautiful woman
Baseball and beer
and a beautiful woman
Tonight, such a
wonderful date
Two teams are playing,
while one love we're sharing,
who cares who is up
at the plate
Her team gets a hit
and I can't help but smile,
seeing the look
on her face
The batter starts running,
he hopes for a single
while I begin rounding
first base
Holding her tight,
as we kiss between pitches,
keeping an eye
on the score
I slide into second,
my heart quickly beating
here with the one
I adore
"Stee-rike, you're out!"
I can hear the ump yelling,
the shortstop just went
down in three
I pull her in close
all the while I am thinking,
I'm glad he's not
yelling at me
Now to third base,
oh her skin soft and tender,
the infield, the lights
up above
I can see home,
as I lead off a little,
then dart in a sprint
to her love
Crossing home plate
is a magical feeling,
breathless the two
of us cheer
A beautiful woman,
an evening of baseball,
and let's not forget
about beer
** Note: The Astros won the game**
For the National Pastime poetry contest
Sponsored by: Phillip Garcia
So exciting, I'm next, I'm next
My turn up to swing, make that bat sing
Don't think it gets any better than that
Your chance at a home run to bring
Oh No, they're switching pitchers
She must be that NEW girl at school
I have no conception or Clue... of her technique
Wonder if those well defined muscular arms
are any indication... That little girl don't appear weak
Silently sweating in the dug out,
listening to all my peers frantically shout,
"That girls throw is like a tornado invader,
It's been told she clocks off all the radar!"
Her last season was historically undefeated
All the batters were left feeling depleted
Every rival team ultimately conceded
I'm starting to feel a 'lil cheated
"You there, Your UP", shouts the ump
"Make sure to secure your Cup
as you approach the mound,
been told this little girls throw is faster
than the speed of sound,
"She'll leave you writhing
in awful pain upon the ground!"
The catchers mask is fastened in place
Perspiration beads break out on my face
My team mates expect me to place
How can I lose to a girl, with grace
I'll never be able to show my face
"Play Ball", is called, "Strike One"
This suddenly doesn't feel like fun
Muffled shouts within the crowd
"You suck", is all I hear quite Loud
Her team cheers effervescently proud
In a split second, Whiz," Strike Two"
Our catcher falls back from the thrust
Up in the air is his shoe, pretty sure I am threw
If I don't hit the next one, it's a definite bust
I think I even heard my grandmother cuss
This last shot at bat will determine the game
The scores are tied, no innings remain
My palms are sweaty upon the bat as I get ready
Oddly, I think that girl is pretty, as I hold my bat steady
As the crowd is chanting, my breath heavily panting
In the fastest whoosh I've ever Seen,
" Strike Three"
That pretty girl is now The towns Baseball Queen
Yup, So it's a tie, and I'm not exactly sure why
But at the pizza party tonight that shall follow
After a big gulp and unusual pride swallow
I'm gonna ask that pretty girl to Marry Me !
THE SOUTHPAW
By Roy Merritt
This kid has a helluva arm
The coach he told the scout
And if we could get him
to get it over the plate
He'd strike all the batters out
He can throw it really fast
Over a hundred and twenty per
You might not believe what I'm saying
But that's the truth dear sir
He doesn't have a curve ball
No slider or a change up
But if you're standing at the plate
You better be wearin' a cup
That's our biggest problem with him
This kid is really wild
And all those who have to face him
Turn into a little child
And if one comes whistlin' in
And goes anywhere near their head
They start swingin' at anything
Facin' him they dread
Now the scout he was a cynic
The story was always the same
We gotta a pitcher you should see
He'll make it to the Hall of Fame
And so the southpaw he took the mound
And started to loosen up a bit
And then he saw the batter in the box
And this kid was biting his lip
Why is that he wondered
Why does he look this way
Why is he hesitant to take his cuts
And put the ball in play
And then the scout he found out why
And came to believe what the coach had said
Cause the southpaw threw one wild and
By God knocked off his head
Yes indeed his head came off
Right there at the plate
I know it's hard to believe
But that's the truth for goodness sake
And so the ump he followed it
As it rolled all over the ground
The stadium stood deadly silent
You couldn't hear a sound
And finally at last the head stop rolling
And the ump picked it up you know
And so held it aloft
He really was a pro
He held it there eye to eye
Lookin' it square in the face
And shouted aloud “You been walked
Now batter take your base!”
Is there a reason why all ballplayers spit
Can they get to the majors, if a spittoon the can't hit
Twenty paces while chawing
On tabaccy while jawing
At the ump, methinks it's likely tradition I submit
© Jack Ellison 2015