1. Nigeria my mother's land
Old as olumo rock
Always green in vegetation
Rich in culture and traditions
5. Nigeria my mother's land
A nation with diversified ethnic group
A nation of diversified in ethnicity
But infield in unity
9. Full of love and caring
Full of different tribe's and custom's
11. Nigeria my mother's land
As colourful as a rainbow in the dark
Shining like a star in the heavens
Sweet as a honey
15. Field with wisdom and knowledge
A land of great icons in work diligent
Our land of hope by two rivers divided
With lush vegetation by nature provided
19. A nation that feeds on diet of heavens
supplement
An ocean that runs through the test of raging
Storms un torn
Categories:
infield, africa,
Form: Free verse
The spring has arrived
In Arizona
and in Florida
The teams get ready
to train for baseball.
That time again
for bats and balls,
batting helmets,
gloves and spike shoes.
The infield
and outfield
get ready.
baseball
is here.
PLAY!
Categories:
infield, baseball, sports, spring,
Form: Diminished Hexaverse
I stand above home plate, bat tight in hand
The outfielders move in right behind the infield.
The doubt belongs not to me, yet fear teases my mind.
Here comes the pitch...
I hold my breath...
The ball is taking forever to get here...
It's close...
I breathe out as I swing...
Coach screams...
RUN!!!
Categories:
infield, analogy, appreciation, baseball, best
Form: Carpe Diem
THE PITCHER SHAKES OFF ANOTHER SIGN.
I START TO WONDER WHATS ON HIS MIND.
WITH SWEAT RUNNING OFF MY BROW,
I NEED A HIT AND I NEED IT NOW.
BASES LOADED WE'RE DOWN BY THREE.
THE GAMES OUTCOME DEPENDS ON ME.
THE CATCHER RUNS OUT TO THE PITCHERS MOUND.
THEY NEED ME TO HIT IT ON THE GROUND.
I CHECK THE DUGOUT, THEY'RE ALL ON EDGE.
THE INFIELD DEFENSE FORMS A WEDGE.
I STEP BACK IN THE BATTERS BOX.
A FAN SHOUTS OUT, IT'S TIME TO ROCK!
THE TENSION'S THICK AND STARTS TO MOUNT,
BASES LOADED WITH A 3-2 COUNT.
THE PITCHER NOD'S TO CONFIRM THE SIGN.
THEN HE GO'S INTO HIS WIND.
IT'S A FASTBALL, IT LOOKS FAT.
I MAKE CONTACT WITH MY BAT.
CENTER FIELDER STARTS RUNNING BACK.
NOW HE'S ON THE WARNING TRACK.
HE LOOKS UP, IT'S OUTA HERE.
THE CROWD ERUPTS AND START TO CHEER.
ALL MY TEAM MATES SWARM HOME PLATE.
THIS IS WHAT MAKES BASEBALL GREAT.
Categories:
infield, adventure, baseball, celebration, fantasy,
Form: Light Verse
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
Categories:
infield, baseball, love,
Form: Rhyme
THE GAME
We would gather slowly
“toss” the bat, choose sides,
use the “least battered” ball,
the only bat we had.
The girls played too,
chosen because they
could play….often before
some of us boys. We
knew they were better
so it wasn’t taken personal.
The kid who wore the
Sears and Roebuck “Husky”
jeans played right field.
He was slow, he didn’t
get one of the treasured
gloves. He batted fourth,
cleanup hitter.
He could really hit.
The “infielders” got gloves.
The infield was an almost
grassless, rock strewn field.
The bases were scratched
into the dirt with the bat.
The “game” lasted forever.
As kids were called away,
“substitutes” would take
their place. Younger,
less experienced little brothers
and sisters, earning their time,
learning the game, touching
the heartbeat of summer.
The game would “pause”
for lunch, be put on hold
at supper, would be thought about,
talked about, dreamt about,
until …….
2/11/2017
submitted to – THE NATIONAL PASTIME – poetry contest
Categories:
infield, baseball, childhood, history,
Form: Free verse
I stand on the plate with the sun in my eyes
the pitcher is ready, a fastball he flies
I swing just as hard as I possibly can
love says "strike one" as I try it again
I choke up on the bat, pull down on my bill
nodding my head, a new pitcher on the hill
it hurls past my chest, just missing my heart
love says "ball one" as the clock again starts
it's the seventh inning stretch, I need the relief
I brush off the dust, no way will I retreat
the coach saunters over, giving a pep talk
as the lines are redrawn on the infield with chalk
the board shows each tally, each inning not close
no intervention from heaven or its holy hosts
and I shut the book on yet, another losing season
I'll still play the game with faith in the reasons
Categories:
infield, imagination, introspection
Form: Couplet
It bounced off the truck
And then rolled down the highway
Apple turnover
-----------------------------------------
How 'bout them apples
When Jonathan McIntosh
Won the spelling bee
----------------------------------------
Apple of my eye
Jenny had the sweetest smile
For another guy
----------------------------------------
Right down to the core
When that apple crossed the plate
An infield dribble
------------------------------------------------------
Just one little hole
In that shiny red apple
Just one little worm
-------------------------------------------------------------
Categories:
infield, food, funny
Form: Haiku
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:
infield, life,
Form: Free verse