Long Bases Poems
Long Bases Poems. Below are the most popular long Bases by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bases poems by poem length and keyword.
Losing with Grace.....
Baseball players know how to play
their game and move on.
When they lose, they lose.
They don't talk of collusion, or who
stole bases and worse..
To call in the Fed to play the game of Farcical Illusions,
They move on to the next game.
It is not a federal crime.
The players need to go to DC and explain this plain fact to
some of our elected dummies.
To the overpaid ,selfish snobs of
this country.
I do mean only those sitting on their
arses for 40 years.
No, sorry, we all need to ask God,
A better question.
Is it OK to steal from men who work,
that their well earned money must
go to the poor.
America is far from third world nation,
We don't need a Robin Hood to run
this country.
America will not be a socialist nation.
Nor do we need a panel of angry fools,
To paint Americans as Foolish ghouls.
Take a poor person into your house, why
don't you?
Offer them your soap, your towels and
the use of your food, money and home.
To me, that's real Christianity.
In CA, people live on the streets on
purpose, it's far more money for them
that way.
Plus welfare, Snap cards and free health
care, too.
And selling dope behind McDonald's too.
Poor?? My rear!
Not to mention the monies collected,
on which no taxes will they pay.
People know how to play the poor game
here, remarkably, too well.
It's called, "Beating the system."
In the USA today there are more jobs
than people.
Yet, people choose to live in tents, it's
cheap and easier than work.
Let the other Americans, go make
money ~ the jerks!
The poor here do know it's sheer honey.
In my city, there's a homeless man on
a horse.
Any rational being can figure out what
it costs to feed a horse.
One can't be poor and provide adequate
health care,for an animal and himself
I feel sorry for that horse living outside.
His master is not sick nor old nor poor.
And I don't live in a crumbling town
in a third world nation.
Just people living on chosen, victim hood,
Eternal, extended....juvenile vacations.
Panagiota Romios
April 23,2019
1:45pm PST
It is a land of clouds and mounds
It is a land of color and sounds
When I feel a little tired and bored
I go to the doors of fountain grounds
Life is a mix of winter and summer
White grey snow and sun kissed flower
When I feel a little tired and bored
I prefer to come to the cloud-filled tower
Small and big hills in multiple ranges
Soft and rough ripples in numerous breezes
When I feel a little tired and bored
I sit at the valley with you and cheeses
The tops of mountains are joyful places
A dizzying rhythm between peaks and bases
When I feel a little tired and bored
I keep reading your beautiful faces
Where the buds bloom in between the ridges
Dark green grass seeks wild blue breezes
When I feel a little tired and bored
I set myself in building some bridges
Where Lord Buddha sits on high hill top
Neither existential sigh nor any tear drop
No scope either to feel tired or bored
I let my eye wander ever non stop
Life is bountiful in the springs and hills
You are lovely in both movie and stills
______________________________________
June 18, 2016
The Russians are coming again
In Northern Norway, not far from Russia
the people have lived without worry
but the war hysteria is also washing up
on the rugged shores.
There is talk about closing harbors for
Russian fishing vessels, in case they spy
or do unlawful things
Let us be clear, Russia is not about to
invade, but we live in a time of relentless
propaganda when even sensible
are unsure.
The war hysteria is Russia's insistence of
not having NATO in Ukraine, this request
is perfectly normal, like that of the USA
which does not permit a foreign power
have bases near her borders and as we can
see on a map, the border between them is
long, yet not far from Moscow
This case could easily be resolved, but
the chance of hurting Russia and possibly
alter her leadership, was too much to miss
So Russia invaded to secure her border
like the USA would have done and has
in a similar situation.
A wind of war fever hastens over Europe
must be controlled, before feverish
warmongers haul us into a new war
a Danish imbroglio
The Danish prime minister is appealing to Europe to stop Trump’s idea of taking Greenland and making it an American state
What he wants not that he is overly interested
is to be sure that no other country places
bases on Greenland’s still-cold soil like Russia
or China
the Vikings when Greenland had a period of thawing had farms there, which tells us the brave Vikings were mostly farmers, their fierceness is a national lie
As for Europe helping look another way they
write the declaration of good intent and should
Say, Trump, post troops on the Island, the EU
will wring their hands and do nothing
We know this when Gaza suffered a mini holocaust it lamented, but otherwise, did nothing, even Germany in her misguided sense
of guilt lasting for generations sent weapons to Israel
So, we tell Denmark you are on your own to deal
with this new situation, but to give more money for the defense of Greenland is futile
Perhaps the Danish “hygge” might help
I wanted to write something new, so I pulled out my shot gun
I save my pen for the free styles because my sentences like to run
I will always shoot my shot, and it will be a swish when it's all said and done
This is poetry but that does not mean I cannot talk with my gun
Battling life one step at a time so it's one on one
Me verses myself, and I call that one of one
Feeling down most day even though God has already told me I won
Dreaming about success to the point that it becomes nightmares but to my dreams I'll never succumb
They're sleeping on me
So, I think its time I set my alarm clock
It's past my time and I'm in my prime
This is only the genesis but you are hearing the revelation
I'm always in my bag this is not just a vacation
Shout out to everyone here with me now but, no I don't need the vindication
But, let me pull my phone out to record this moment as a dedication
Remember this as one of many Post Skriqts faces
And yes I'm always packing heavy because I'm going places
This poetry is not for just in cases
And I only have one judge so the jury can never control my cases
I never stopped blooming you could just never see past my black faces
Don't you know all roses come from seeds, and now I'm rounding all the bases
I guess what I'm trying to say is
I have arrived
And no I'm not the replacement
I'm going upstairs, I'm tired of living in the basement
p.s. this is just a post skriqt...
You put up the numbers
Year after year.
You faced every pitcher
Having no fear.
You have a great eye.
The best of them all.
You made it look easy
When you contact the ball.
A pitch in the strike zone
You gave it a slap.
Singles and doubles
Were scored in the gaps.
Over two hundred hits
Five different seasons.
Over thirty-one hundred
Hall of fame reasons.
You batted an average
Three thirty-eight.
Over twenty straight years.
I'm just saying that's great.
Eight batting titles
With the very same team.
For today’s average player
It's only a dream.
Out in right field
You were a cut above.
And for your great play
Won five golden gloves.
You stole 300 bases.
Most never knew.
Your career strike outs
Were so very few.
So now you stand
In the hall of fame.
As one of the greatest
To have played the game.
Have not we all made our acquaintance with struggles, troubles, and trials?
When we met them, we did not say, "Happy to make your acquaintance". Nay,
When we encountered them, we sought to avoid them like the plague or other
Painstaking fellows of ill repute. On many occasions, we have found ourselves in hard places of blooded eyes, rendering void our abilities to discern heaven's good graces. Some of these places were instituted by God, and others were created by us to our own perils and sorrows. Hard places, troubled faces, slowed races, misleading traces, untouched bases, shoes without laces, empty unflowered vases. Unresolved cases, too few resorts and oasies, too many loses and
too much waste. So here and now, I do cease and desist. I pause my cause and slow my pace. I resist and refuse to persist in this my self-directed rat race
Here and now, no matter the strain, I stop and get off this runaway train.
Here and now, I still my restless heart and halt this my senselessness.
051809;posted 091419
This poem was started in May 2009 and completed Sept 14, 2019
So many dreams
Both day and night
Awake or asleep
It's you in my sight
What do I dream about?
So many things
All bases are covered
The pendulum swings
From ones I can't speak of
To ones that I can
But all of these dreams
I would dream of again
If I had my druthers
These dreams would come true
It'd be amazing
To live them with you
There's lakes and there's rivers
There's oceans and seas
Red coats and blue blazers
Pink dresses, black jeans
Lilacs and perfume
Airplanes and guitars
Big snowstorms, warm blankets
Long drives, Nashville bars
Going to places
Where nobody goes
Coming back sometime
When? Nobody knows
I'll court you and woo you
All while we're away
Serenades in tuxedos
My love on display
And under the moonlight
I'd ask of you this,
"Would it be ok
If I gave you a kiss?"
Fireworks, rockets
Inside of me
If that were to happen
If that were to be
My creativity's vivid
Plans, other things
I'd put all together
To make Bluebird sing
It's all 'cause I love her
I say it alot
But if it's getting too much
Just tell me, I'll stop
City life, for kids, before the onslaught of helicopter parents and mandatory parental involvement in every aspect of growing up. We played baseball, no umpires, the bases pieces of cardboard, scratched in dirt, or chalked on the pavement. Four neighborhoods abutted each other. We, the children of the game, formed teams, formed an impromptu “league”. On one of these occasions when a game was “scheduled” team A came up short of the mandatory nine. Team B would allow one of its players to play for team A. The proof that this did not hurt team A’s chances of winning became evident the day Billie, (we’ll call her Billy to protect the legend), came to bat in the last inning and singled home the winning run for team A.
After the game Billie walked home with the rest of our team. She looked a bit sheepish and we did sort of give her the business. We all knew it didn’t matter which team you played for because the game demanded you play your best and hold your head high in both victory and defeat.
Thanks to all those brave souls,
the trail blazers
that has gone before us.
They who fell in love,
back when white society
wasn't so excepting or
was intolerant of mix marriage.
Love is made of tough stuff,
couples had it ruff.
So, for a while, some lovers even
kept a low profile.
This has been going on for a long while.
But they took a leap of faith anyway,
staying to themselves.
Love will not be denied.
Now days you see mixed couples everywhere...
Not just in and around military bases.
Today it’s not a shock,
but a pleasant surprise.
Seeing couples and their kids,
from different ethnic back grounds.
And even different size,
skinny and obese.
Both straight and Gay,
more than just Black and white.
As Day follows Night,
all kinds of races mixing it up.
One has only to open your eyes to see,
the mixing of the of the melting pot.
Which is hot!!
Love truly concurs all.
God has taken the spoon
and stirred the melting pot,
from the top of the rim
to the bottom of the bowl.