Long Ball game Poems
Long Ball game Poems. Below are the most popular long Ball game by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ball game poems by poem length and keyword.
This gentleman's sport,
Brings up my youth,
To stadium transport,
Fans and emulators of Babe Ruth.
When I was young,
We sat in the cheap seats.
Big family among.
On metal bleachers, a butt heats.
At our feet,
Peanut shells in piles,
So many we eat,
While the game beguiles.
I watch the balls fly,
Trajectories rather vast,
Oh, look! How High!
While the baserunners move fast.
Dad would talk at games,
Which we did not witness a lot.
He knows the player's names?!
His vocabulary is more than I ever thought.
Injuries occur,
But tis not a bloodsport,
Which is what we prefer,
For spectator comfort.
A moment in time,
We root for players to succeed,
Hit a homer, catch a fly, sublime,
And the other team's score impede.
Some fans want their team to win.
Others enjoy watching the game as a whole.
Whatever the reason,
This game our heart stole.
If the game is long,
Better conversations can be had,
Fans try to get along,
Or don't, and that's bad.
Japan's favorite sport,
Provides America many a powerhouse,
A valuable import,
And welcome addition to the clubhouse.
A sport that makes fans sing,
Stretch, move, and dance,
Up collective tookis bring,
All the more body condition and game experience to enhance.
Let's go to a ball game,
With fans abound,
Expletives exclaim,
Until the winning team is crowned.
On Fireworks Night,
Music and vision astound,
Phosphorus in flight,
Friends and magical experience surround.
Coming upon the Easter sunrise
there comes a secret spirit
a home, more stable, than the month before
snuggled deep in the heart of the springtime grass
It is more than the chocolate and pastel eggs
or a breakfast of waffles on a bright Sunday morning
More than a dress, or a new pair of shoes
or voices in church singing "...Alleuhia"
Even more than a ball game, in a big front yard
and cars driving up the long driveway
Three families
three cars
children piling out
noise and laughter, ham, baskets, smiles, and hugs
gratitude and joy
'Christ The Lord Has Risen Today'...and again, again, and again...
although, it is evident that the spirit.....
has never been far
away
~
For Linda Marie's Contest
By Carrie Richards
Seems love's a very good topic for a poem
People know the subject really well
We all have separate thoughts about love
Those that are obsessed, you can tell
Women as they age can take-it-or-leave-it
With men, it's a real different ball game
From puberty to the age of a centenarian
Their loins are constantly aflame
So how do we solve this obvious disparity
This age old problem that exists
The only time it gets to be a real problem
Is when she says no and he insists
Arguments ensue and nothing gets solved
Both go to sleep feeling angry
We must understand the needs of the other
Been going on for centuries, frankly
This is not exactly your typical love poem
An anti-love poem so to speak
It will never be like a fairy tale happening
But it still can bring you to the peak
© Jack Ellison 2013
What’s really going on during this “Shutdown?”
Well, this is an idea of what is possibly going on.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Who is Humpty Dumpty? (It begins with T and rhymes with Dump. Now put them together and you get Dump T…)
Lil Jack Horner sat in a corner (Waiting on the Epstein files to be released)
Jack and Jill went up the hill (Capital Hill to protest)
Lil Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet (Minding her business)
Hickory Dickory Dock, the mouse ran up the clock (Time is ticking. When will this shutdown end?)
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jumped over the candlestick (You gotta be quick to avoid deportation)
Lil Sally Walker sitting in a saucer (Filing for unemployment)
This Lil Piggy went to the market (But the high cost of groceries sent her right back home)
Mary, Mary quite contrary (Yall already know who is the most arrogant, contrary, male version of Mary)
Lil Bo Peep lost her sheep (And her job due to mass firings related to this government shutdown)
Wee Willie Winkle runs through the town (Running away from ICE)
There was an old lady who lived in a shoe (Because affordable housing is not so affordable)
The wheels on the bus goes round and round (Just like this government with all the finger pointing and name blaming)
A sailor went to sea, sea, sea (Away from the Ugly BBB)
London Bridge is falling down (This country)
Rock-a-bye baby on a tree top (Poor baby, just trying to sleep in peace)
Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard (And because her snap benefits were cut, it was bare)
Hush lil baby, don’t say a word (Sounds like a Republican)
If you happy and you know it clap your hands (Don’t think nobody clapping right about now)
It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring (That old man tired, he been so stressed worrying about his social security benefits)
Take me out to the ball game (For a much needed distraction from all this chaos and dysfunction), I’m over it!
-Noble Game-
Ah!-i get to play the pig again.
This female game where you cannot win.
..delicate moment-awkward silence.
This where she gets to say she is sorry
- bloody phone rings...
Cannot nuke it,
i need the damn thing.
My pride gets to drive you to your sister.
Coming back I park the car,
at the bar...
Oblivion gets to drive me home.
Homesick garden just forget-me-not.
On my knees, i get to pray please but God forgot-or not..
Now my baby is my guitar.
Wow my lady, play me sad.
Tuning up the tension then the E-string snapped!
(Is it just me or is'nt there any E)?
Another no win.
Another no ball game.
Sorry God, sorry Gheet, sorry me, sorry wife.
I get to be alive- so I can get to play the pig again
It’s opening day (that’s for baseball);
The season’s officially here,
With fans set to flock to the ball fields
To watch, buying hot dogs and beer.
If life were compared to a ball game,
Each inning a decade or so,
We’d root for our home team, while knowing
The game’s sometimes boring and slow.
Yet other times, there is excitement
And we take the lead in the score,
Without any way of predicting
What action is waiting in store.
There’s a break in the 7th for stretching,
When the game’s cut as if by a knife,
Which is like when it’s time to retire
And confront what is left of your life.
Then the players get back in position,
The outcome still up in the air,
But there isn’t much time to the finish
And perhaps not much power to spare.
Now my husband’s a bit of a joker;
This baseball/life theme’s his, not mine,
Yet when he said we’re in the 9th inning*,
I knew I would pilfer that line.
*The title is what he actually said about
where we’re at, which cracked me up…
My grandkids are lucky; they’re going to camp.
To them, it’s the summertime norm.
The owners have naturally had to revamp
So to Covid rules they can conform.
Each camp group’s a “pod” with ten kids who’ve been sent
And they keep to themselves all day long.
No joining with others for any event,
Not a swim or a ball game or song.
The counselors are masked, social distance observed
And for every day since camp’s begun,
My grands come home psyched, with their joy unreserved
And describe all their hours of fun.
Not all children have access to places like this
And I feel for the ones who lose out,
But I’m happy my grandkids do not have to miss
What the summertime should be about.
The gambling apps are scary,
Though they don’t tempt me a bit,
For the ones who should be wary
Are the ones who’ll take a hit.
Just like every addiction,
There’s an obvious appeal,
But a gambling affliction
Is the worst kind of raw deal.
Those who really can’t afford it
Are lured in because the odds
Bring them one step closer toward it,
Feeling up there with the gods.
What once worked for only races –
Horses, greyhounds, cars that drag,
Now is found in many places,
Waiting for some saps to snag.
Who will score more in a ball game?
Who’ll be leading in the polls?
What will be the Royal babe’s name?
Who will land the leading roles?
Though it’s bad enough when older
Folks are drawn to such a con,
Younger people, sometimes bolder,
May find all their dreams are gone.
It's a beautiful game.
To many of us, it's a field of dreams,
Especially if we have a winning team.
It's a beautiful game.
It's a game of life and love
That feels like a well-fitting glove.
It's a beautiful game.
No two games are the same.
It has boarders and foul lines,
And one never knows about times.
It's a beautiful game.
It can also cause heartaches and pain.
It''s a 'shutout' if losing team has no runs.
One is called 'out' without 'time outs'.
It's a beautiful game.
It's a 'no hitter' if losing team has no hits.
A single hit has the power to cause shouts.
But a 'strike out'' may cause many to pout.
It's a beautiful game.
It loves sunshine but not rain.
Some walking, running, and lots of standing.
Some stealing is legal but very demanding.
It's a beautiful game
That could bring fortune and fame.
There are a few great ones and haller famers,
But everyone who qualifies is a real gamer.
Yes, it's a beautiful game.
One of my father's friends was a Dodger fan.
Another one of his Friends was a Yankee man.
My father rooted for a Cardinal named Stan.
It's a beautiful game.
In my childhood, we often played
With sticks for bats and rubber balls,
Pretending to be Mr. Mantle or Mr. Mays.
It's a beautiful game.
So take me out to the ball game;
Where the strikes are three;
Where the walks are free.
Where the end is nine,
But it could go longer.
It's a beautiful game.
For 60 plus years, my love has remained.
In my childhood, it was a great love in my life,
And I dreamed of being able to pay the price.
dogs on vacation filling up the beach with warm barks
dobermans, german shepherds, prissy poodles that cause sparks
husky and rottweiler are sharing a purple lounge chair in the sun
excited corgis begin a volley ball game; this is all kinds of fun!
bulldogs and blue heelers, tripping around in the moist sand.
perky dogs with fluffy tails that are wildly frenzied and fanned.
chihuahuas and yorkies and there is a beagle with a howl.
this would not be the place for a kitten or fowl.
let’s vacation on down to the Vermosa beach
and drink some cold water with slight taste of peach
here comes a striped surfboard and a jet ski too
unhappy mailmen fall from the sky, out of the blue