Best Wrigley Poems
My room at the Hyatt
Smelled like my ex-wife
She didn't have oodles of class
Or wasn't overly fancy
So, it must be that aroma of
Almost masking what had
Taken place the night before
We greeted each other with
A welcoming suspicion
The bathroom lighting flawless
Standing in the mirror with
Perfect tan and bright white A
T-shirt
Khaki slacks pulled high and
Wise guy hair cut
I wonder if Capone ever went to see
The Cubbies play
Beautiful sunny day, not too warm
Plenty of room on the mezzanine
At Wrigley
A pleasantly safe distance from the
Big middle aged guys with
Some other man's name on their back ' s
Exhaling brat breath
And beer farts
the Windy City loves their team
Categories:
wrigley, baseball, chicago, humorous, sports,
Form:
Free verse
A Chicago Cubs-Fan Prayer!
In nomine patri et fili spiritu of Ron Santo
Let us all give thanks for Ernie Banks
Let us play!
Our Father, who art in Wrigley Field
Hallowed be thy ivy covered Brick-house walls
Thy new stadium will come, the owners will be done
On the mound, sit ‘in with the bleacher-bums or your rich roof-top owner friends
Give us this day our daily dread but remove those lights that so offend
Forgive us our trespasses and cubs left on bases
As we forgive those teams who trespass those places
And Caray us on and win the pennant races
All’s we’re ask ‘in for Lord, is a couple a runs
Then deliver us a world series, before God loses HIS patience
Amen!
Categories:
wrigley, baseball, business, devotion, dream,
Form:
My Little Green Propelling Pencil.
I was only a child when you were given to me,
By the then, Chairman of Nottingham Forest, When he came round for a cup of tea.
Harold Wrigley Alcock was his name.
Nottingham Forest football team was his game.
The year was nineteen fifty nine.
Forest were doing fantastic at this time.
He also was the owner of the Bridgford Wine Stores on Melton Road in West
Bridgford.
Where both my parents worked, my sister and I were often in the back room,we
were never bored.
He came round to our house every Sunday morning the books to do.
We lived on Exchange Road number one hundred and twenty two.
He often brought us gifts when he went abroard.
We just went to Skeggy in our little old Ford.
He took us as a family to Forest ground.
We watched the game from the V. I. P. box, the excitement the sounds.
As a child this was all mind blowing.
The excitement was truly flowing.
Now fifty years later this all came flooding back to me.
While clearing out a cupboard I found my little green propelling pencil. Given to me
by he.
Categories:
wrigley, nostalgiachild, green,
Form:
Rhyme
A Chicago Cubs-Fan Prayer Answered!
In nomine patri et fili spiritu of Ron Santo!
Let us all give thanks for Ernie Banks!
Let us play........, two!
Our Father, who art in Wrigley Field
Hallowed be thy ivy covered Brickhouse walls!
Thy new stadium will come, the owners will be done
On Clark and Addison, as it is, to sit in the sun with thy bleacher-bums!
Give us this day our daily dread but remove those lights that so offend!
Forgive us our trespasses and Cubs left on bases, as we forgive those
Teams who trespass these hallowed places!
Caray us on and win the pennant race, all’s we’re ask ‘in for Lord,
Is a couple a more runs!
Most of us can't afford a dog or beer in here, but a least da cops is really
Nice around here!
Lead us not into temptation and deliver us to a World Series, while were still young!
So grab a beer and join the cheer, cause we ain't leav'in Wrigley
Till "Yogi" say's it's over in here!
AMEN!
Categories:
wrigley, baseball, celebration, dedication, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse
As a baseball fan in the Windy City,
one had to tolerate a lot of mediocrity.
If you followed the Cubs, you deserved a lot of pity.
What kind of baseball team were the Chicago Cubs?
Each season was a continuation of hapless flubs.
Yes, they have had a history that is not too great.
They had not won a World Series since 1908.
Since then, not one season victory would the team yield
as they played their home games at Wrigley Field.
This year, there was an end to the stormy weather.
The team finally got their entire act together.
During the baseball season of 2016,
hitting, pitching, and defense looked pretty keen.
These boys played together like a well-oiled machine.
The Cubs finished first in the Central Division.
In the National League, they defeated their playoff opposition.
Although it took them to a seventh game,
the Cubs put the Cleveland Indians to shame.
Yes, this year, the Cubs finally won it all.
They are the World Series champions of baseball.
Categories:
wrigley, baseball,
Form:
Rhyme
Mr. Cub, take me out to the ballgame!
A Chicago Cubs-Fan Prayer!
In nomine patri et fili spiritu of Ron Santo
Let us all give thanks for Ernie Banks!
Let us play, TWO!
Our Father, who art in Wrigley Field Hallowed be thy name on those ivy covered Brick-house walls
Thy new stadium will come, the owners will be done
On earth, as it is in heaven to sit in the sun with the bleacher-bums
Give us this day our daily dread, but remove those lights that some say offend
And forgive us our trespasses for trading our best hitters and aces
As we forgive those same players who then come back, and rub it in our faces
Lead us not, into tenth inning disgraces, and worst of all, with men left on bases
Deliver us from evil and finishing in last place
And Caray us on to win the pennant race
All's we're ask ‘in for is a couple a more runs with three men on base
Bring us oh Lord a world series trophy, or it won't be long before were all dopey!
Our faith be rich, but our pockets are poor, because most of us can't afford a dog or a couple a beers in here!
Our spirit lives on and we know no fear, so whaddya say we lose the, "wait till next year"!
Mr. Cub is rounding third and headed for home, one more time on this hallowed ground, but we still need a closer for a Cubs World Series win!
Ronny made the call to one of their friends, "send in the saver, Ernie can't do it all"!
Now the "LORD's" in the line-up, and Mr. Cub just handed him the ball!
Let us all give thanks for Ernie Banks! AMEN!
Categories:
wrigley, baseball, childhood, growing up,
Form:
Free verse
I’ve a vast store of mem’ries about Chicago
as I’ve lived there for a couple of years
helping out in the parish of many immigrants,
especially Mexicans and Puerto Ricans.
I’ve made friends and a number of them
still continue to correspond by emails;
it’s like a treasure-trove of relationships -
where friendship makes a big difference.
I still remember when I get invitations
from people of other cultures in their homes;
their different cuisines and customs,
a great experience, a wealth of culture.
Chicago’s known for many attractions,
home of architecture with modern skyscraper
the neo-gothic Tribune Tower in the north
along with white Wrigley building in the city;
rich in architectural history, a sight to behold!
Its classic and modern architecture so far,
complements each other in visible terms,
with innovative ideas and creative designs
a special city with marvelous history.
Daniel Burnham, the famed architect,
designed the Merchandise Mart and others
significant to his life like ‘Paris on the Prairie’,
a tapestry of combined art of old and new.
Renowned architects with their respective styles
such as Frank Lloyd Wright and his prairie designs,
Louis Sullivan and his visible ornate facades
Ludwig Miles van der Rohe for modern styles.
Oh, Chicago, known also as the Windy City
so rich in history and its uniqueness too,
the time when a huge fire razed the city
destroyed lovely buildings in 1871.
Well, with the growing skyscrapers in the city
Chicago Spire, for instance, with its 150 stories
designed by a renowned architect Calatrava,
stands as the tallest building in North America.
With the so-called Trump Tower in its 92 stories
and then, Waterview Tower with its 90 stories,
Sears Tower, the skyscraper with its 110 stories,
that’s the only tallest among buildings in the U.S.
Oh well, this is Chicago in the landscape of beauty,
as a windy city, as well as a gateway to reality;
there’s meaning to trace back in history
there’s continuing progress towards this century.
Categories:
wrigley, faith, happiness, history, introspection,
Form:
Narrative
Northside of Chi-Town is full of emotion.
In the ‘45 Series Cubs and Tigers are battling.
Sianis buys two tickets to show his devotion.
Is booted ‘cause his billy goat won’t stop bahbling.
He curses the Cubbies and causes a commotion.
But spring is rooted in fans' love and devotion
Like lush, green, yellow, crimson, ivy will never
Stop growing. Year after year fans fear
Hearts will shatter but remain forever
Faithful chanting “Wait ‘til next year!”
Generations grow up cheering with great emotion.
Generations grow old enduring gut-wrenching loss
Bleeding among Lovable Losers time
And again, but no Cubbie faithful dares cross
To the Southside—it’d be a traitorous crime.
In 2003, faithful fans’ love and devotion
Promises fruition as Dusty Baker
Arrives Northside heralded as the Cubs’ savior.
But NLCS Game 6 at Wrigley is a heartbreaker.
Cubs need five outs but collide with a traitor.
Steve Bartman’s still in hiding; his name elicits emotion.
Castillo’s bat aims grenade over foul territory.
Cubs’ fielder Alou springs towards the heavens to snatch
But when feet touch dirt Cubs land in purgatory.
Faithful gasp: Curse of the Billy Goat sets a rematch.
Since that fateful day in ‘45 exploding with emotion
Wrigley hasn’t seen another World Series.
Since Bartman's affair in 2003, Cubs haven’t won
A playoff series. But Billygoat yaks to Mrs. O’Leary’s
Ol’ Cow an’ scoffs at the new scapegoat’s unearned run.
In 2011, after 91-losses, Ricketts proves his devotion
Adding the sabermetrics guru who now values emotions.
Epstein arrives at Northside championing human connections
Rebuilds Cubs’ roster with players who reverse the motion
108-years and character solves equation for a winners’ resurrection.
Hearts ripping open is a crushing emotion
But fans never stopped believin' in near
Foreseeable future ‘cause they’re loyal
Lovers and nothin’s as good as baseball ‘n’ beer
At Wrigley for 81 games on your own home soil.
Categories:
wrigley, america, angst, baseball, celebration,
Form:
Rhyme
I want to go to Wrigley Field
Stand behind home plate
And point my finger at the left field wall
I do it to remember baseball
What it used to be
Simple
Pure
Dirt
Muscle
And spit
It used to be you could go to climb the fence and get in to Wrigley for free
Simpler times
Now you can't get in for less than a small fortune
Steroids and wall street
Great
I want to stand at home plate
And point my finger for a better world
Babe Ruth was certainly associated with the ruling class
But he played a sport of the people
And he represented a team whose city has some of the ,most ardent socialists in the world
So I know I'm reaching here
But I want to stand at Wrigley field
In the heart of america
And point my finger like babe ruth
Very unwitting representative
Of the nations working class
Pointing my finger to the beyond
In the heart of america
Pointing my finger to the beyond
Toward what's better.
Toward what's more.
Towards what America
Is supposed to be.
Categories:
wrigley, baseball, political,
Form:
Free verse
During the time before television came to our home, My dad sat there in his car on many a dark Southern night. And I was somewhere close by, enjoying a wonderful
game of Major League Baseball on the radio.
O, there were several teams in the majors like The Pirates,
The White Socks and The Red Socks were popular
teams. But in my town in Northern Mississippi, baseball was all about the Cardinals, the Dodgers, and the Yankees.
There were many sights and sounds of baseball beaming from radios and television sets. I must say that I mean no disrespect to other good and decent sportscasters,
but Harry Carry and Pee Wee Reese made us feel like we
were there in the stands.
My dad had lots of friends, but two were rivals in the game.
There was his friend, the Yankee man name Mr. Baines;
And then, Mr. Mon, his other friend, was a Dodger fan.
But my dad’s heart was in St. Louis with Stan the Man.
In the memory of my mind, I can hear those games now on the radio.
Those nights were dark and hot, but the baseball captured and calmed me.
Reading newspapers and enjoying a baseball game on the radio were two
things my dad and I shared together. But also, later on, we obtained a television. With the snapshots tucked away in the frames of my mind, after 50-plus years, I can still see the Baseball Game of the Week.
I'm rather certain that neither my dad nor his two friends ever graced the stadiums of their teams. I'm proud to say that it was through them that I developed a deep love for the game. So, in a way, when I saw two games at Wrigley Field in Chicago, they were there also; or when I enjoyed two games of the Giants at Candlestick Park in San Francisco, they sat right next to me.
They say that baseball is America’s great past time experience;
but for me, baseball was always about ‘now and then’, ‘today, and
‘tomorrow’ too. It was about a little country boy fantasizing
and dreaming today about what could be tomorrow.
Written 042010; Entry122422PS Contest, Matt Caliri, Poetry in Motion
The National Pastime, Phillip Garcia
also: (Screwed XV11 Contest, Rod Carmack; 10th Pl)
Categories:
wrigley, america, baseball, father, games,
Form:
Prose Poetry
My Dearest Colorful Queen,
Thirty seven colors in one tail feather
The most beautiful Peacock ever
That's
what
you
are...
A euphoric tail feathered star
All perfectly placed like a work of art
Be
still
my
heart...
Everything you chirp it hurts
Hurts in an oh so lovely way
Each
and
every
day...
Did you put this lump in my throat
Because I can't even swallow
You
I
will
follow...
When your presence is close my dear
You are all that I can hear
Your
voice
so
clear...
I want to wrap you in my wings
And sing songs like song birds sing
Will
you
marry
me???
Together forever in turquoise harmony
You are already a part of me
We
are
forever
lasting...
Let's fly together in our dreams
To our own nest for future offspring
One
big
happy
family...
I have your ring to match your beautiful artistry
I had it sized for your claw perfectly
It's
meant
to
be...
I am honored to be in your presence
Each and every precious second
Please
say
yes
please...
As I humbly await your reply
Love, that Peacock Guy
Written for contest: "Love Letter"
Hosted by : Viv Wrigley 10/29/17
Won 1st Place in Contest Results
Categories:
wrigley, art, beauty, bird, color,
Form:
Free verse
That Slick Limerick writ by Bob Quigly,
'Insane in Maine,' got me so giggly
I twisted up my tongue;
so, I swallowed and wrung
and choked on my long stick of Wrigley.
Categories:
wrigley, on writing and words,
Form:
Limerick
Memories
become sand full of hourglasses.
One thousand snowflakes are one thousand dead cats in the Hudson River.
Memories hurt.
They are Michael Schofield broken out of prison.
Prison is the look on your father’s face.
We had the same face. I used to remember him being younger.
Once he was James Dean going bald and with a cause.
Now he is the weeping willow pretending to be a Christmas tree.
Trees are ebony towers to admire. They take the place of hands, and lips and voices. Sometimes they can speak but only when you aren’t listening.
I hear ghosts I met a long time ago. Their voices mix like bad wine.
They have a lot to say to somebody else.
Words
were daggers but became backfiring nunchucks.
Painting mosaics is more like scribbling outside the lines.
A car with no brakes and no gas.
An automatic pistol being fired by your shadow, armed with toothpaste ammunition. Nothing adds up because math can’t help.
Lithium is the iron curtain to save the free world.
Conversations are only permitted in dolphinese in the broken dunk tank.
Words twist like ivy at Wrigley Field and taste like blood if you impede upon traffic.
Fifty two card pick up and “will you marry me” mean the same thing.
She had no words for either of me, even if I remembered.
Mirrors
are grown in fields on the dark side of the moon.
They are sold to the vain but crawl into the vein.
They shout at jet takeoff volumes.
We use them as search engines even though they don’t have Wi-Fi.
They are the jealous, condescending friend we have to put up with.
A high school dropout who prefers to lean on a wall and do nothing.
Mirrors were made to be smashed. They deserve to go to hell but never do.
They join their cousins the broken beer bottles from West End in a cozy hole
where they can make out with nuclear sludge and give birth to North Korea.
Then they can go on vacation to the beach where they grew up
and create memories that disappear.
He told me who I was and wasn’t without speaking but he was wrong.
Now he won’t look at me and neither will she.
Two-dimensionalism is bliss.
Categories:
wrigley, confusion, introspection, words, me,
Form:
Free verse
To be a Cubs fan is to be
the audience of a Greek Tragedy
Sweet is the pain as we pay admission
To bow down in October submission
Leaving bitter taste through the winter
Clinging to the lofty dreams of a winner
Commiserate and complain in the offseason
Some even threaten Southside treason
But like clockwork we rally as April draws near
Swearing as always "This is our year"!!!
Brandishing hoodies, jerseys, and lids
rushing to Wrigley, dragging the kids
Opening Day...the first pitch "Z" throws
goes for a strike as the OldStyle flows
"This year we will go all the way"!!!
Is the drunken refrain the bleacher bums say
In late May the Ivy fills in quite nicely
Yes, I know six bucks for OldStyle is pricey
But when in Rome, drink cheap beer with foam
Or sip a Bass while tuning in Ron Santo at home
You don't need to drink beer to watch them play
But on some occasions it buffers the pain
No matter the result... Ill hold my head high
It makes my day to see the "W" flag fly
As this season will mark year one hundred and one
Since our last World title was won
Lets forget about goat curses and Bartman blame
get out on the field and play the damn game
I will never give up, I will never give in
I won't lose hope on a World Series win
GO CUBBIES!!!!!!
Categories:
wrigley, devotion, faith, funnyworld, drink,
Form:
Rhyme
The smell of hot dogs, fresh grass, and stale beer
A constant dull drone from the Bleacher Bums
“Take Me out to the Ball Game”, sung aloud
Infield raking dust, by busy grounds crews
Seventh inning stretch at old Wrigley Field
Ivy covered walls, with a losing streak
Uniforms with faces of baby bears
The rival redbirds are taking the field
Cub fans begin to return to their seats
Fresh from a line to relief and last call
A solid round of boos from the bleachers
The batter warms in the on deck circle
At times, there is no better place to be
Chicago on a hot sunny day, free
© Copyrights G. Jones, 2008
Categories:
wrigley, life,
Form:
Free verse