Long Homers Poems
Long Homers Poems. Below are the most popular long Homers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Homers poems by poem length and keyword.
RICKEY HENDERSON
IS ELITE
HE DID IT ALL
ON HIS OWN TWO FEET
RICKEY'S WELL KNOWN
FOR STOLEN BASES
LEAD OFF HOMERS
AGAINST THE ACES
SILVER SLUGGER
GOLDEN GLOVE
A TALENTED ATHLETE
AND CUT ABOVE
HE HOLDS THE RECORD
FOR STOLEN BASES
ACCOMPLISHED THIS FEAT
BY VISITING PLACES
3,000 HITS
AMONG NINE DIFFERENT TEAMS
TIME RUNS PAST
OR SO IT SEEMS
RICKEY'S THE BEST
THAT'S WHAT RICKEY WOULD SAY
AS LONG AS HE DOESN'T
HAVE TO FACE RYAN TODAY
ON SECOND THOUGHT
RICKEY LOVES THE THRILL
IF HE STRIKES RICKEY OUT
RICKEY LIVES UP TO THE BILL
AUGUST, 89
ON THE 22ND DAY
RICKEY BECAME RYAN'S
5,000TH K
TO QUOTE THE ALL STAR
AND SERIES MVP
"HE GAVE ME NO CHANCE"
"HE JUST BLEW IT BY ME"
When a record might be broken,
All the fans are on their toes.
Will it happen now or later?
Well, nobody really knows.
So the Yankees are expecting
Aaron Judge to do to the deed
If he hits just 2 more homers,
Which is never guaranteed.
Roger Maris holds that record;
Back in 1961
He surpassed Babe Ruth’s achievement,
Sixty homers, by just one.
Judge has 60 at the moment
And each time he’s up at bat,
There’s a buzz throughout the stadium,
Just waiting for that stat.
But the pressure is enormous;
So far Judge has not come through,
Yet all baseball fans are hoping
He will do what he must do.
Though the Yankees won, most watching
Would have sacrificed that win
To see Judge tie up the record
So the breaking can begin.
Fads come and fads go
Is this pronoun thing a ho ho ho?
I am sure for some it is important and real.
Others jump on, wanting more zip and zeal.
Tik Tok and U-tube, two of today’s norms
Taking new directions, creating new forms
Will they both be passé’ in the thirties?
Names going back to Homers and Gerties?
Database and web were unknown in the eighties.
Google was not a word known to us natives.
Word processors barely peeking out.
LOL and MMAT make me want to shout!
The first computers took an entire room.
No one fathomed owning one.
Now we all talk away on Zoom.
High tech craziness. Oh what fun!
Things are moving at mega-super-speed.
People like Putin filled with incredible greed.
Sex traffickers are real and true.
I liked the old ways. How about you?
First half of the month cooler, then the second half warmer
Spring clocks turned forward, daylight lasting longer
Games of gold always told, losing harassed nine-fold
Allowed homers and walked batters that would be never
Scrimmage full of big time moments given, at the end guilt-ridden,
but rainy days getting more frequent leaving fields flooded.
Rainout, rain delay, games are stopped or canceled
deep into the night as fans sit in the grandstands
Agonizing for players and fans alike going home drenched
Despite the weather or the ups and downs of the sports
games will be played and fans will always spend watching their sporting events
4/19/2017
Ever since the game of baseball had begun,
nothing excites the fans like a walk-off home run.
In the ninth inning with a tie score,
hit a home run and you don’t have to play anymore.
Perhaps the bullpen did not save the game.
Having a tie score after the ninth is a shame.
This is a common thing that is hardly a quirk.
Extra innings to play means additional work.
If a home team player homers for the local crowd,
the fans with elation will cheer quite loud.
Inning after inning without runs brings frustration.
However, the home team scoring brings jubilation.
To be the team’s latest hero
is the greatest joy any player will ever know.
If I were to venture a sports analogy,
I'd say life most resembles baseball spiritually.
We spend eons preparing in the dugout,
Then nervously strut out to take our time at bat.
The rival coach directing our adversaries
Is the Father Of Lies and man's false philosophies.
His goal is to prevent us from reaching home plate safely.
His team's minions outnumber us near-infinitely.
The rival pitcher has icy practiced steel-like nerves,
And he's struck out many with foul spitballs and curves.
He pitches things like sloth, envy, greed, media idolatry,
Addictions, “Pro Choice”, perversions, **** and other immorality.
Our beloved Coach whispers to us from the dugout.
HE famously scored grand slams when HE went to bat.
If we listen to Our Coach, and with spirit swing fast and hard,
We'll knock those pitcher’s balls clean out of the yard.
HE knows we won’t always hit solid homers,
So HE doesn’t expect us to succeed just as loners.
We might on our swing just make it to first base,
But the team batters behind us can help us reach home base.
Even though the adversary’s minions outnumber us,
Only our choices will allow them to defeat us.
So with our Coach and team we must stand up,
When the Great Umpire of all calls “Batter Up!”.
Came from Baltimore by Pigtown
Where they like to lay the law down.
He rebelled against the ground rule.
Had to grow up in reform school.
Got acquainted with a curveball
Dealing pepper by the church hall;
Broke some windows, but he left the scouts impressed.
He was an OG All Star, and a first draft Hall of Famer.
He had manners like a gomer, but he played with no disclaimer.
Pitched in Beantown, till they tossed him.
They’d regret they ever lost him.
Joined the Yankees as a slugger.
Jumped on southpaws like a mugger,
Shooting rockets past the flagpole.
Fattest wallet on the payroll.
Made a called shot, and the papers did the rest.
He went from zero to sixty lodged in Murderers’ Row,
With women, booze, and money all just part of the show.
He led the A.L. in hitting.
Chased after ta-il, no quitting.
Played ring around the bases
In a dozen pennant races.
He scored doubles at the wet bar.
Belted homers before radar,
And suffered his publicity’s intrigues.
He was an urban legend; no one ever saw him on TV.
And in the house that he built, there’s a tribute to his number three.
It was series after series.
All the bookies have their theories,
Parsing records and statistics,
Charting sinker ball ballistics,
But in the end, most everyone agrees:
He never had to play the N*gro Leagues.
The Beauty Of Baseball Poetry Contest
Matt Caliri
A supposedly wide-open, empty street
A rubber ball, a plastic bat, and a real game.
Kids playing to the baseball beat
The diamond asphalt is just the same.
Lines are drawn, and teams are picked.
The pickup games are for bragging rights
Where emotions are high, and egos are nicked.
Some kids haven't reached their grown heights.
The bigger ones hit the longer ball
The little tots hit short liners that hit parked cars.
Homers hit homers over the wall
A neighbor’s house is seeing stars.
Foul balls find a garden bed
Where a stampede of kids thrashes the roses.
A homeowner is cussing and seeing red.
Today's game comes to an end and forecloses.
Tomorrow’s stars have a dream
To play on the big stage.
Where it all started with the pickup teams
On the streets and to the homeowner’s rage.
Baseball is America’s pastime.
Hot dogs, sunflower seeds, and lemonade fill the plate.
There is a passion and a youthful chime
And these kids arrived early and don’t want to be late.
Yes, I affirm, I have seen God
But He appeared and then disappeared
This knowing that transcends mind, left me awed
But until what’s imbibed is assimilated, by fears I’m seared—Unseeking Seeker
Espied my footprints in desert sands, longing to encounter Him in the Holy lands
Vision Cinematic once upon a time suspended from Homers stauros—a sign?
Hither poet ere Christ what visions may he have come across, perchance mine?
Ever adorning this landscape eternal, reborn and risen to us in the season vernal
Cedar beam deeply implanted into arid barren beach no protectorate of Rome
Crimson robe flows about His loins as I peer down from up on high Shalom
Seashore I’ve known since childhood’s joy so rare hence my vision surfaced there
Vision Cinematic once upon a time, from above the clouds I glimpsed a slaying
Azure sky morphs bright sea breeze upon His bleached dry raven locks swaying
Perhaps the Holy Land now rendered elusive I shall grasp my vision conclusive
In conclusion equate a temporary optimistic life, possibility is where I dwell in
For fear of the Old barbate God, His hell is patient, awaiting, we who know sin
The Almighty all-knowing sees all, whilst on His thrown, Lily White glowing thru
Tell me, is the God of Old Testament different from the God of the New?
Heaven's sake, why go in reverse, for this a mythic trap, a route traverse
Wrestling with their own faith, they’re serving The Book of Skaith
Erosion of civil liberties, fueling genocide and weakening sovereignties
Dear Lord, if this is what art thou to those on the face of thy side?
Let it be I won’t reside, search then I will, new platforms where I may hide
A vision once upon a time, Cinematic of what images were to me familiar
But now the path is clearer, love’s the only answer in a world abound with failure