Modern warriors,
They fight for the home plate.
The bat and the ball,
is what decide their fate.
The people are pumped,
and they all yell and cheer.
In front of thousands,
the heroes with no fear.
Behind on the count,
but here comes the ringer.
Though it may look bad,
he will hit a zinger.
Under the lights and sound,
they come to witness.
The new king of the mound!
If you think it best, I'll go away
And wait alone until someday
We'll meet that day at Citi Field
Behind home plate in seats that yield
The perfect shot for the kiss cam
I'll kiss you first then take your hand
And with my hand atop your ring
The ring of promise that you'll bring
I'll ask you if you'll marry me
Livestreamed for the world to see
And yes, I'll get down on one knee
Forever then, yours I will be
All I need is a spot
To put my cot
At the end of each day
As I go along my way
Nowhere I need to go
So my travels are slow
No car
So I do not get that far
I do not mind
When I left life behind
Together days started to flow
Sometimes days pass so slow
At times too fast
A day never last
Too soon become part the past
My dog and I
Watching life go by
Moving towards , I do not know
Just watching the show
As I pass by
I see how all the yesterdays really did fly
So many times have the sun passed through the sky
Waiting for a tomorrow that never comes to be
The future says, just wait and see
Someday
Along my way
I wish for a home
I'm getting to old to always roam
Where I lay my head
I could someday wake up dead
So I enjoy all I get to see
All the Beauty there be
Each day
I pray
Lead me towards home plate
Past all the hate
I accept this kind of fate
Down this road
I carry a heavy load
At the end I will finally get to rest
When I pass this test
I become part of the past
Then I am welcomed home at last
Quote: To Live With Regret Is The Saddest Thing Of All
Have you ever heard it said, better to have lived and lost
then never to have lived at all
Sometimes those who second guess themselves, never reach
the home plate
From the second base you can see he needs a pitch
will he hit it at the first, second, third
or none...
Play the game my friend, and if you happen to hit it
run as fast as you can
if you don't,
smack that ball again when it comes your way.
Its all in the way you play the game,
come shine or rain you must show up,
for regret will drive you insane.
So hit it out of the ball park if you can,
let it fly. .
Got tickets to the game tonight.
In Cardinal Red, it's pure delight.
With seats along the first base line,
It's sending chills down my spine.
Here he comes, Albert the Great!
His bat in hand, I just can't wait.
The crowd's electric, on their feet.
THE SWING! bat and ball did meet.
To Big Mac Land, it found it's place.
Around the bases he did race.
The team all waited at home plate.
Still his ego would not inflate.
One more record for the books.
All Redbird fans with joyful looks.
Go Crazy Folks! Jack would say.
It still rings true at Busch today.
1.
life is good (I think?) -
I’m able to move one bite
from home plate to mouth
2.
“first base’s” great goal
but “second,” “third,” feels better –
a “home run’s” too quick
3.
a “base hit’s” the best
“home runs” raise expectations -
who needs the pressure?
4.
pitcher’s arm’s fragile,
the worst batters get lucky –
a perfect game? fluke!
5.
balls juggled in air
each day fewer in number -
hits are what matters
6.
all bases loaded,
one more run in means you win -
hit still what matters
7.
game’s umpires all suck,
most truth, it seems, disputed -
just gravity wins
Brian Johnston
23rd August in 2022
Hit 'em up! Hit 'em up!
Up, out and away
Singles, doubles, triples
and of course, the Big Bombay!
Snitker stoically managing from
the dugout
Ron Washington on third and Eric
Young, Sr. on first helping runners out
Strider, Morton, Elder, and Fried leading
the way
Chavez, Minter, Mchugh, and Iglesias closing
the day
D'Arnaud and Murphy guiding and protecting
home plate
When it's their chance in the batter box good
hitting they aptly demonstrate
Acuna Jr., Albies, Arcia and Harris II
applying the spark
Olson, Rosario, Ozuna, and Riley bomb blasting
making the park go dark
Hit 'em up! Hit 'em up!
Up, out and away
Braves win!
Hip Hip Hooray!
God Recruited Us to Play the Game
By Franklin Price
02/11/2022
God recruited us to play the game
And He blessed us every day,
Protected us against ourselves,
In the places we would play.
Gave us many years together,
Filled our needs, most times our wants.
In our lives were many home runs
And, at times, some well placed bunts
We were a team God put together,
Rounded bases far from home.
He managed us, for who were were,
In all the places we would roam.
I was the pitcher, you the catcher.
You were there on every throw.
Always protecting home plate
You were the best, at it, I know.
Other team mates, He recruited,
Be they family or friend,
Filled out all the other bases
And they'll be there 'til the end
God saw that you were injured
And he took you from the game
And lifted you to Heaven
Did it all in Jesus' name
Now that you're no longer catching,
I will coach, no longer throw.
Other team mates, gathered 'round me,
Help to soften up the blow.
To compare our life to baseball
Is apropos, I have no doubt.
It all started at a ball game,
That we could not have done without.
Girls in the 4th Grade
David J Walker
I remember being
Distracted in my 4th-grade class
By her perfectness
But then,
who really notices girls
In the 4th grade when
we were
Choosing up sides for a Kickball game
During recess
But
She was wearing a robin egg blue dress
And an embroidered white blouse
Anklet white socks turned down
Around her black & white
Saddle shoes
Her blonde hair was curled out
On the ends like those ads for perfect
Hair in ladies magazines
And
I wasn’t really showing off by kicking
The big red rubber ball all the way back
To the school wall at the end of the
Softball field
As I rounded the bases to home plate and
Too late looked up
She had already gone in
But then
Who really cares about Girls
In the 4th grade
Anyway
The sunlight beams down on a warm spring day
and the blues abate on a warm spring day.
March snowflakes morph into April showers;
and shoots start sprouting, on a warm spring day.
A cacophony of birds can be heard
chirping for a mate, on a warm spring day.
And yellow daffodils pop from the ground;
at a frantic rate, on a warm spring day.
Nesting birds take turns sitting on their brood
incubating eggs on a warm spring day.
Butterflies emerge from their chrysalis
and try out their wings on a warm spring day.
Dandelion seeds, rigged to parachutes;
gently float aloft, on a warm spring day.
And the crack of a bat hitting a ball;
rings out from home plate, on a warm spring day.
I’m not sure
I have the strength anymore
To be discovered
Stepping into the cold black lake of February
Clopping to work in frozen slop
Snow snarling at my ankles
Car coughing
Windshield gritting its white teeth
I wear a body double of fur curved
Like a polar beast on my back
Then the Voice of the Turtle whispers…
And sprinklers spritz in a mist of sunrise
And rows of palm trees unfold as a breezy outfield fence
Blue sky a homerun boundary
Free to swing away you can’t miss
Buckets of baseballs flung to the green sea
Leather-gloved squids
Eight kids per position
Waiting their ground balls and pop flies
Legend to rookie 60 feet and 6 inches from the big show
Chin skimmed and bum chapped with red dirt
Tip of hat flattened to home plate
Get up swing back at that
Unfamiliar crack of doubt
Deep from winter inside you.
A hot sun is a bird perched on the bill of your cap
#10 Numi eternal rookie in us all
Spread your wings and fly to Detroit
The Old English D forever on your chest.
He advanced to home plate
hesitant
out of time, out of place, yet
tantalizingly familiar somehow
A spirit, no number on his back...
Pausing, he tipped his cap to the crowd
a period-piece from long, long ago
Who could he be...
He squared himself, bat waving menacingly
and then he swung -- pure poetry
a swing for the ages
the ball arcing higher, higher...
As he rounded first base
into the afternoon shadows
his legs faded away
then the rest of him...
Who's to say we hadn't seen
Babe Ruth that day
Who's to say
Babe Ruth, who played from 1914 - 1935, rewrote
baseball's record book top to bottom during his
career. He still is arguably both the greatest
player ever to play the game, as well as the sport's
most enduring legend.
The park was immense, its lilac-bush-lined fences remote
To blast a home run took a superhuman smote
All alone a-tremble at home plate, so helpless and small
Dared I hope to swing, and not miss the ball...
Decades later, the lilac bushes are grown thicker
The once-cavernous park now shrunken, and quicker
Than my shock at the passing of so many years
The unraveling of stitches from my baseball-sized tears
That girl keeps saying ‘no’
Each time I ask her out.
She gives no reason why,
Just turns and shuts me out.
I’m pretty sure she’s straight,
Not on the other team,
But I’m stuck on home plate
(if you know what I mean!).
Was it something that I said?
Maybe something that she heard?
Do I smell bad? Do I look sad?
Does she think that I’m a nerd?
Not trying for a ‘home run’,
Not even ‘second base’.
Just want to get to know her
And take her out someplace.
I’m playing the long game--
I’m Eventually gonna win!
Someday I’ll get a nibble,
Set the hook, and reel her in.
I asked her B. F. F.
To find out what she heard.
But she her ‘confidante’,
So wouldn’t say a word.
No word out on the street,
From Homeland Security.
The Psychic Connection
Was as clueless as me
Was it something that I said?
Maybe something that she heard?
Do I smell bad? Do I look sad?
Does she think that I’m a nerd?
Not trying for a ‘home run’,
Not even ‘second base’.
Just want to get to know her
And take her out someplace.
I’m playing the long game--
I’m Eventually gonna win!
Someday I’ll get a nibble,
Set the hook, and reel her in.
The people’s choice
ain’t always the right footstool fit
Crown a throne sitter
with electric glam fanfare
Light the bright Roman candles
for a cancer stick spitter ...
See the fireworks in the air:
Inter
Continental
Ballistic
Missives
got voter arm drone sent
Cheek chicanery
is puffing pride hellbent
The home plate people say,
they know how to get around third base
The silent majority
whistle kicked a ballot bray:
Said they know how to rule and regulate
Mute mules got a gut promise packet
burst in their purse belly
White powder vows telly
is a politrician mix: Rublecon racket
Dressed to deceive,
they wear the gorgeous mink sable
Eyes often believe
spit paid broadcast signal on cable
Raw mink voltage
is copper wire insular selectable
Red carpet dotage
give Venus fly idol cries
to the froggy princes they chose
If the cold iron velvet glove
fits tight rightly on the bow hand
Send the poison arrow love
into bent hearts prone to knelling
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