One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine
Pencil in hand, eraser handy, Folger’s in my stein -
doing eighty-one U-turns; nine digits in line.
Niching nine numbers in their nests nets a homerun.
Sudoku books provide a steady diet of puzzle “fun”;
wits, nerves, logic, patience, sheer grit gets her done.
Crack such puzzles and prove your brains really rate;
with no repeats (box, column and row) - Sudoku checkmate!
Turn about face, do your one-eighty and celebrate…
Dad came to see me play a game.
I hit a homerun first time he came -
must've flew a mile -
million dollar smile.
Dad and I didn't stop
till we reached the mountain top
where we could see ten miles -
million dollar smiles.
Converting dollars to kilowatt hour,
given my dad's special power,
smiles were a billion watts -
and, I'd say, that's lots!
Steps up to the plate
Skinny Legs picks up his baseball bat
He points beyond the outfield
Wordku: 5-7-5- words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
You can step up to the plate,
and hit that game winning homerun.
Everybody in the stands is cheering,
the newspaper says that your number one.
Or swing and miss and fall flat on your face,
while the other guy rides off with your dreams.
Your girlfriend tucked under one arm,
his pockets bursting at the seams.
Leaving you filled with shame and regret,
trying to find the bullets for your gun.
But remember there’s another game tomorrow,
no matter who it was that lost or won.
So keep on dreaming, planning, and scheming,
all the dreams that might never come true.
It might be happiness, it might be sorrow,
no one knows which is waiting at the end for you.
There is one thing we all have in common,
no matter if your life is filled with rain or filled with sun.
Ain’t nobody going to remember you,
when it’s all said and done.
When Reality Hits A Homerun, Situations Get Real
Defending My Heart, I Refuse to Kneel
My Dragon, My Beast Please Help Me Heal
For The Rejection Was Not A Prescient Projection
Like a Tainted Injection
Creating Injuries to My Purported Soul
Damn Burnt Bridges, Forfeited Toll
Thank You For Teaching Me That Your Love Was Inconsistent
Causing a Galling Dent
Seeking Selfish Ambitions making My Feelings Irrelevant!
Went On Ahead and Ignored Telltale Signs
My Emotions Now Apathetic, Feelings Expatriated, Re-directed, Reassigned!
I Guess Life is Poetry, The Ups and Downs
My Story, My Song
Verses of What Could Have Been
In The Darkest Dark, In The Luminous Light
I Exist Somewhere In Between!
Liberty Bell, cracked and muted after the war
Apostrophe after every catastrophe under par
Homerun in the Long March of Second War
Coins on cairns of foes and heroes in jar
An exclamation point in war under par.
*Image of Living Water by Pinterest.
O' Heaven Hear My Cry
The river struck nearby my ears,
A Lightning hit excites my fears,
Feeling blames worth; I am the one,
Holy Ghost, forgive Father, Son,
O' thunder's rain runs over me,
Soaked to my bones, mentality,
Shrinking holding as waters run,
Holy Ghost, forgive Father, Son,
I sensed myself fully immersed,
My innards feel as a cloudburst,
Bearing a shift-hitting homerun,
Holy Ghost, forgive Father, Son,
As tears drop freely, express I,
Heart's living water, confess I,
Water stain on my face well done,
Holy Ghost, forgave Father, Son,
2022 August 08 - REVISED
A KYRIELLE ABOUT WATER
~~Kim Rodrigues
RZ & HMS 8 syllables per 16 lines
Hundreds, thousands, and millions are in the coveted race for "One"
Through the fertile corridor, many jockey and vie to hit the "Homerun."
Auric field moving quickly to a magnetic light
Away from the pack toward a date at the celestial site
Breaking through the corona radiata
Now the beautiful sounds of a cantata
Boom Bam!
Bam Boom!
Boom Bam!
Bam Boom!
A new creation
You!
Yes, you!
A beautiful revelation
Out of many, 'One' is chosen
while millions are left in the corridor frozen
You are not here by mere chance
So get up, "Chosen!" Live, love, and do your dance!
Where the batter swings, if he hits the ball homerun
Why the batter hits the ball when it goes far outside the park homerun?
4/26/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2022
coffee was sipping
while into past are slipping
am great at tipping
before last page through
much attention Beacon drew
worked beyond curfew
did display some doubt
Beacon told us all about
whale with water spout
bird sang here and there
when he did was with much care
rode off on a mare
chances seemed so fat
hitting homerun with his bat
became democrat
Beacon did propose
when you have a runny nose
ended up on clothes
wrote another verse
while curse became worse and worse
emptied out my purse
had walked hand in hand
but Beacon said may be banned
laying nude on sand
Baseball
competitive, athletic
watching, playing, following
single, double, triple, homerun
hitting, pitching, fielding
American, popular
summer
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.
May all of your moments be filled by your dreams
We are all entitled to at least 15
They could be moments of fame or a great achievement made
They will always be yours to keep so don't ever trade
It might be a fancy car or a house high on the hill
Maybe you'll make a lot of money or cure cancer with a pill
It might be the winning touchdown in your last football game
Maybe that mind numbing homerun that puts them all to shame
15 moments that will carry you through
Be proud of what you have done and what you can do
Enjoy every moment as fleeting as they may be
But your defining moment in life will come in 16
*feedback appreciated*
They don’t know the joys
Of riding a grapevine in the woods
And they can’t make the noise
Made by kids in rural neighborhoods
They don’t know the joys
Of picking wildflowers for mother
Or playing with woodland toys
Sometimes not even with one another
Town children are a lonely sort
With only their relatives for support
They don’t know the joys
Of a piggyback ride across the lawn
Given by one of the boys
Before the bright flowers are gone
They don’t know the joys
Of running as fast as their pup
Or seeing the garden he destroys
After he gives a whooping yup
Town children aren’t so much fun
Some never even hit a homerun
They don’t know the joys
Of sitting out on the front porch
Without any need for poise
Simply because you have the urge
They don’t know the joys
Of waking up at the crack of dawn
Forgetful of all that annoys
Happily giving the sunshine a yawn
Town children don’t have a clue
What other children come through!
September 12, 2019
Town Children Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
Surging like electricity to the esoteric abyss of my soul,
felt in all body parts, the flinching brought to the shoal.
Even the slightest stub of a toe, a beloved child in distress,
causes bile to roil and roll, the bowels of my heart in duress.
Likewise the agony of a pet - the suffering shrill, painful howl.
As a child I buried a silver dollar, his float to water’s top foul.
The automatic flinch - squeeze of fists, jaw, stomach, lady parts.
My brain disoriented, imaginative, culling others pain is a fine art.
The news of a small child hit by a homerun play, and the grab
Of the disintegrating player, dissolving into tears - a poignant stab.
Why do I linger so long, explaining at length my wearisome woe.
So you’ll grasp my afferent saturation and how my compassion grows.
5/30/2019
What Makes You Flinch Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julie Rodeheaver
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