Long Baseball bat Poems
Long Baseball bat Poems. Below are the most popular long Baseball bat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Baseball bat poems by poem length and keyword.
Created a little ditty about hypocrites and
double standards, racists with drawing boards.
Media dinners with dubious
double meaning placards.
The Spade of hearts.
The Jack of Swords.
An adversity of diversity,
assorted stuff for their hating,
tarot cards,
racial fits in the music awards,
and a grammy for
"sex in the city."
Man who is that dude on the Grammy, Satan?
Jean Luc Picard with Baphomet itties?
Idols for idols, adverts with priority
misplacement, Universal standard.
Mesmerized tazement,
enter lame-ment.
Amazement for sheep enslavement under
black candles.
As the hypnotizing blow is more than
a psyops experiment.
But here we go,
gonna run at it hard while I vent-so.
Everyday I listen to the same old thing
Tune in to VH1 or Mtv, see what I mean
Only degradation gets attention, is it ADD?
No, they know the words, they are listening intently.
With a mother****** this and a dead *****dat. Posthumously-
Gangland in the home with a baseball bat.
Un-Just like liberal Congress across the nativity scene.
Is it positive reinforcement?
Or New World Laws Enforcement.
Fasting for lent?
Come get your sisting y'all.
Come and get bent!
In genre hostage making,
30 year experiment?
Yo Mtv raps, yeah I get it
(about murder $$y & pot leaf sense)
I guess when the airwaves got a monopoly
from the Lord of the Air and GoogleBerg
Hall Monitors.
Not the Right, but the wrong
afraid of debate, running away, running with impunity, running with devil- the PMRC, the CDC ,FCC,
FEMA and Columbia University.
Now you want to talk about Satan,
check the connection between Crowley and JayZ.
On how you get chicks for free
and money for nothin, nothin but devil worshipping,
special sales from wolves making sheep
clothing and accessories.
Accessories to many of the things you see.
You left me all alone again in the therapist office we went over all the scenarios what we would say but there you were stunned knowing your head was bashed in your lip still bleeding from his brown fist you said nothing holding your arm while the pain crawled down your back and again he'll get a free pass I hate you for that he mangles us as his friend meet at the bar cackling about the bruises they left on their wives just so they could have a beer and a sandwich rather than sit through meat loaf and potatoes hearing Bobby talk about his championship game wanting both his parents to just get along long enough to see him receive his trophy but here you are broken battered in tears unable to stand or open your swollen eyes I'm here looking at the therapist crying weeping what a waste of flesh allowing yourself to be abused by this coward being respected a great guy a woman beater hurting his children oh well this is America women are conditioned to except his raunchy characteristics and he still swings a baseball bat who are you lady I'm triggered to let the world see what we've done cause he's not coming back to ever harm us again thoughts have been acted out only because you couldn't get out and well he's dead now there I said it Somebody had to stop him the authorities take him around the corner to return more violent I am not sorry for saving you it’s not your fault tell them it was me remember
survive to stay alive
Alto Enhancement Mental healthcare
Thank you
WRITTEN BY MRS. YOLANDA JOY NICHOLSEN
A flock of large birds
or a fleet of small small planes
is speeding towards me.
NO! It's worse--mosquitoes!
I failed to use repellent!
I grab my swatter.
They slap it away, laughing--
my baseball bat too.
I’ll need a tub of itch cream,
maybe a transfusion.
The females descend
to feast on me; the males watch,*
rendering support
with cheering and clapping.
Next time I’ll use spray with DEET.
*Male mosquitoes do not bite living things; they can only consume sugary
fluids and thus do not bite or suck the blood of humans or animals. This was news to me!
August 21, 2021
entered in the Buggy Tanka Contest
Sponsor: M.L. Kiser
Dad gave me my first wood baseball bat
an Eddie Mathews signature model, 28 inches long
when I was 10 or 11 ('66 or '67)
shortly after he got me my first lefty glove
(I still have it, so small! with a bullseye crudely hand inked in the center!)
after a few years, it splintered near the handle
I tried nailing it back together, the hickory
shaft was tough to penetrate, but I kinda got
it done, then wrapped the job in some electrical
tape I found
whenever I tried using it again, hitting a pitch
sent shivers thru my hands and wrist like a
lightning bolt shocking me
before long, I left it in the sports closet Dad built
into the canned goods cabinet in the basement
he made for fall canning
so whenever I opened the cabinet door, the wonderful
smell of wood and leather combined with the
rows of gleaming jars of fruits and vegetables
delighted me!
canned beans, peaches, pickles and more
all lined up to select from when Mom or Dad
would send me downstairs to choose side
dishes for supper
frozen meat was kept in the 8' freezer chest
in Dad's workroom thru the door
being sent for that was a special privilege
my brother and I relished
( my sister, being 3 years younger, didn't get many chances!)
I remember there were honorary sports relics in
the closet on the top shelf
a leather football helmet Dad's Uncle Depot wore
before WW11 along with his old softball, the kind
with the exposed seams (I still have it)
wonderful memories
from a
magical time
I will always treasure
© james marshall goff
(I'm sorry to say that this is a true story.)
A man did something horrible when his stepdaughter wet the bed.
He beat her violently and sadly she'd soon be dead.
He beat her with his fists and even with a baseball bat.
She was only four years old, only a monster could do that.
Her mother just stood there and didn't even try to stop the attack.
That sweet little girl was murdered and nothing can bring her back.
That situation was very disturbing and it outraged me because it was so grim.
People were waiting outside of his house because they wanted to get their
hands on him.
The police arrived and put that animal under arrest.
During the four years that the girl lived, the world was truly blessed.
As I'm looking through my window
And I start to l look around
All the snow has melted
I see toys left on the ground
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and baseball bat
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and a baseball bat
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
The child in me hasn’t grown up
Wants even now to play in snow
Make footprints alongside children’s
If in those times back I could go
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
August 17, 2018
Contest : Add a stanza to my poem
Sponsored by : Charles Messina
(Added stanza is in bold)
People don’t have the blues now,
they have rage red, bitter greens
and yellows that revolt
like radio-active sunflowers.
The blues used to be therapy.
We would sing it all out
then play more bluesy notes,
make a new tinge of blue.
Some have forgotten how to suffer.
When you get the real blues
you get mellow, you get the moody
muse like a true poet -
it’s medicine.
The blues don’t come at you
with a rabid point of view
like other hues.
The lyrics don’t club you like a baseball bat.
The blues won’t yell in your ear
as you just try to get along
from here to there
That old blues
it stays put
and
if you have a dog and a guitar,
or if you’ve lost
your gal, or guy
your dog or guitar
then with a sad little chuckle
it will invite you to come on in.
I have this friend, a regular
gallivanter who frequents thrift stores.
He was always searching
with compass and intuition.
He had a North Star
for a heart, a beacon
I can follow on dark,
dull nights, when boredom
and redundancy permeate
the air like a warm mist.
When that mist comes
to rest, like Sandburg’s cat,
rubbing up against my legs
tangling my limbs in melancholy,
he comes like a swift breeze,
blowing away the fog
with a thrift store, ten-dollar trash can
and a little league baseball bat.
With a sly smile and firm
swing, metal reverberates
in the air and my skin
dances a merry foxtrot.
My hand grips the grainy
wood, I swing hard,
laughing in the clear night air.
I married Jane sister of Glen
His my best imaginary friend
And now we have a son
When it came to children we wanted only to have one
Anyway, here is a true story of something that happened when he was four
By the way I am not writing about the funnies anymore
My son was playing outside one day
Mmmm I think it was around the middle of May
All of a sudden he came running in soaked and began to cry
So I ran to him and asked him the reason why?
He said he was playing and having imaginary tea
Then this giant came over and, and weeeeed on meeeeeee!!!
“What?” I said
Horns were growing out my head,
My eyes were red
Axe in one hand, baseball bat in the other
Through gritted teeth I say “I’m going to kill this mother.” (No swearing Sid)
Outside, inside I’m soaked through
My son cries out “He got you too.”
Now from all this commotion
My wife comes down stairs, moving like a locomotion
With a blow dryer in one hand and a curling brush in the other
Here came “Don’t you dare mess with my Son’s” mother
Like a woman possessed
Still sporting her night dress
I even saw Satan cower in the corner
But hey, before I could warn her
Out, in, it must have been two seconds at that
She was standing in the kitchen looking like a wet rat
I began to laugh and my son said “IT’S NOT FUNNY!!”
“HE GOT ME, HE GOT YOU AND NOW HE GOT MUMMY”
Then my son got all brave which made me proud
He opens the door and shouted out loud
“PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE YOU BIG RAIN CLOUD”
When I was a just little girl
Daddy told me a tale
About how I’d find my Prince
Then I’d wear a wedding veil
He said...
Your Prince will be brave and strong
He will keep safe you from harm
He’ll always stand right by your side
Proud to have you on his arm
He will share with you his riches
He’ll Comfort you at night
He’ll wipe away your falling tears
And when it’s dark, he’ll be your light
He will be honest and faithful
On him I could depend
For he would be the man
With whom my life I’d spend
I finally thought I met my Prince
Our wedding bells did chime
It didn’t take very long
To realize I married slime
Strong and Brave?
Late one night while sleeping
I heard a crash, “what was that?”
He quickly shoved me out of bed
“Don’t forget the baseball bat”
Stand beside me?
Nightly we would take a walk
But in his steps I would tread
For this loving Prince of mine
Was always many blocks ahead
Share his riches?
This always makes me laugh
He promised a new car I would get
But when we left the dealership
He drove off in his new Corvette
Honest and faithful?
How do I love thee?
Let me count the lies
Since when does faithful mean
Playing between another’s thighs
Daddy you said he’d wipe my tears
But that was just a lie
You see it was this loving Prince
That always made me cry
I don’t believe in fairy tales
Or that dreams will come true
I’ve only ever met one Prince
Daddy, that Prince was you!