Long Pennant Poems
Long Pennant Poems. Below are the most popular long Pennant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pennant poems by poem length and keyword.
When people lost interest in the
American Pennant Championship
a Brazilian promoter allowed
20 men into his company
to help him restore
value to the now
devalued strap.
He promoted
" The Fair Day Extravaganza"
he said the winner
would be determined through
five matches: the winner of
the sixth match would
be crowned Pennant Champion,
they nicknamed the title
the Trillion Dollar Trophy
and made a trophy that had
diamonds
Rubies
Emeralds
platinium
and
Gold.
He laughingly stated "the
Trophy wasn't worth a Trillion Dollars
but it looked like a trillion dollars!"
He held a 20 man battle Royal in one city.
A twelve man elimination tagteam bout
in another city.( the winning team would
bout until the last name remained)
A four corners match in a small town.
A "Theme Raule'" where a coin toss determine
which member of the two teams
would be strapped in the corner: limiting
each partners reach. This in a big city venue.
a Brazilain Ten Slint countout victory match
winner wins by countout.
Held in a Soccer staidium.
And finaly "the Fin de Royale"
Where Four men and one team
would compete in a
winner takes all
where dq's and counouts scores a win
and pinfalls meant the same.
The winner takes the
Trophy and Pennant.
The Invites were sent around the World.
They made new clothes for the Winner
and a concert
held right after the show.
Two National League teams departed New York City
when the Dodgers and Giants left the vicinity.
Both teams went to California out on the West Coast.
The Big Apple was without a National League host.
An expansion four years later brought another team.
Newspaper editor Joan Payson fulfilled a dream.
Again, New Yorkers could see a National League game.
A new team came to town, and the “Mets” was the team’s name.
With uniforms of Giants orange and Dodgers blue,
they took the Polo Grounds field in 1962.
Many New York baseball fans had shown their loyalty
despite the Mets’ new record for mediocrity.
Winning only forty games and finishing dead last,
the Mets were able to expunge the ghosts from the past.
Again having a team in each league was a reason
for joy and happiness in New York that first season.
They moved to Shea Stadium in 1964.
However, their losing ways continued a bit more.
The Mets’ performance each season did not look too fine.
They lost for seven straight years to 1969.
However, all the Mets fans would get a big surprise.
The team played quite well. The fans could not believe their eyes!
Just past mid-season, they were standing in second place.
The Mets won games, and were moving at a torrid pace.
They soon caught and passed the first-place team from Chicago.
The Mets stayed in first place with just a few weeks to go.
Their pitching staff had Tom Seaver and Jerry Koosman,
they also had Gary Gentry and Nolan Ryan.
The Mets best hitters, Cleon Jones and Tommie Agee,
were joined by Ed Charles, Donn Clendenon, and Art Shamsky.
Together, they all formed a winning combination.
A pennant and World Series win brought more elation!
THE UNICORN
Ever seen a more beautiful sight?
She is drowning into the wind
All sail set,
Triple tangled,
Purple pearl gears,
Glittering glassy artilleries,
Unrivalled weaponry.
Isn't she a beauty
She's got the wind behind.
Look at the velocity she's setting,
Barely noticing the Barbados.
With a grip of urn full of rum
And the finest of tobacco
The hearts of the sail's set
For the audacity of hope.
The red pennant,
The blood line's cold
And every sea captain
Looks upon that flag
For he knows he faces a fight to death
And then he saw her,
As an apparition mounting from the dead.
The sea rose in it watery execution.
But I was told sea lion don't flee
From the wavers watery wonders.
Instead, he staggers not but swaggers on
Until they sail past the North Pole
And trodden upon the sands of Sahara.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2014.
THE UNICORN
Ever seen a more beautiful sight?
She is drowning into the wind
All sail set,
Triple tangled,
Purple pearl gears,
Glittering glassy artilleries,
Unrivalled weaponry.
Isn't she a beauty
She's got the wind behind.
Look at the velocity she's setting,
Barely noticing the Barbados.
With a grip of urn full of rum
And the finest of tobacco
The hearts of the sail's set
For the audacity of hope.
The red pennant,
The blood line's cold
And every sea captain
Looks upon that flag
For he knows he faces a fight to death
And then he saw her,
As an apparition mounting from the dead.
The sea rose in it watery execution.
But I was told sea lion don't flee
From the wavers watery wonders.
Instead, he staggers not but swaggers on
Until they sail past the North Pole
And trodden upon the sands of Sahara.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2014.
FLOWER IN THE CRANNIED WALL
I tower above the crumbling ruins
Of a once majestic tower,
Flag and pennant proudly proclaimed
Pompous claim of pelf and power.
Yet all the boast and bombast,
In crumbling silence relates,
Of transient tenebrous things,
Of fickle times, of fickler fates!
Filigreed fronds in gentle sway,
Butterfly-hued my petals smile,
Delicate poise, yet firmly gripped
By roots who’ve been awhile.
So here I sit so up on high
Exuding sweet allure,
Biding time in changing climes
To wilt and die for sure.
But then, again, I’ll never die!
My seed will traverse to distant land
In nurturing avian gut to drop
In crag or cranny - to make its stand.
(And phoenix-like I'll rise again!)
Flawless
Down in Florida on the twenty-ninth of May,
the Phillies had a pitcher named Roy Halladay.
There was a show in store for Phillies fans in town.
In each inning, three came up and three went down.
In this one game during a pennant chase,
not one Florida Marlin could reach first base.
The only run scored on an error by Cameron Maybin.
However, that was all the Phils needed to win.
When it was all over, Roy pitched a perfect game.
There is no better way for a pitcher to achieve fame.
Flawed
A Major League team that used to be in Montreal,
is now in Washington, DC playing the game of baseball.
In the nation’s capital, they are again playing the game.
The “Nationals” is this baseball team’s name.
They have poor hitting, lousy pitching, and make errors by the score.
As a team goes, they are the same as they were before.
To see where they stand, they need a periscope.
The team is in bad shape will little immediate hope.
The Nats have given their fans little to cheer for each season.
Their annual dismal performance is the paramount reason.
...Sophia was a novelist,
and her first book, a surprise smash.
she rubbed elbows with litearti,
had pretensions to be high class.
They praised her novel so, so much,
even called her the next Bronte,
Sophia started to believe it,
said her next book would blow them away.
That next book was hyped to extreme,
but landed with a resounding thud,
three years of hard work, nobody cared,
critics yawned, and sales were a dud.
Sophia never wrote again,
from the literary field she fled,
forgetting that just one hit book
for writers is batting .300.
Dante was a great switch-hitter,
snd destined for the Hall of Fame,
he had the talent, skill, and drive,
and best of all, love of the game.
But he just couldn’t hit knucklers,
the ball’s movement as obscene,
and when he struck out in the ninth,
ne felt he’d let down the whole team.
Never the type to throw a bat,
though his disappointment was clear,
Dante hated when he struck out,
there was a pennant race this year!
But he bit back all that anger,
because he knew just where it led,
the best who’d every played the game
still only batted .300.
This was an important game in a pennant chase.
The runner thought he could score from second base.
The ball was hit like a bullet into center field.
The other team was hoping another run this would yield.
The coach sent the base runner around third.
The center fielder threw the ball straight homeward.
Our stalwart catcher waited for the throw at home plate.
We were hoping that the ball would not arrive too late.
Our catcher caught the perfectly thrown ball.
He stood there adamantly like a brick wall.
The umpire saw that the catcher tagged the runner out.
This was the best play of the game without a doubt.
We've met again,...smile in hearts,
Before I resume to page you with what I have,
I welcome you to my desk,
Grace has brought you far to this late lap of expandable life race,
Where are we going to?
The map is missing,
And will you mind being the next captain of this ship?
Taking speculation from this perspective,
I guess the sailing will end with expectations,
Multiple of waves come towards our direction,
It's very frightful,
Hug me firmly,and I will seek for safety,
Day break on an island,
Will it be fine indeed?
Why this question?
"Hurricanes,Tsunamis and its kind have made the journey more hopeless with panic",
Watching the sun,there's a brightening face saying,
"Follow the directions I'm giving you,work with diligence and relax for the rightful moment,...the destination is closer than you think",
Pirates of centuries,...Hunters of years,
Penning down records of those past generations,
Inspirations are dugout,
The passengers number is too much,
Noah's arch carried only seven persons,
You're here,...I'm here together with him or her,
Feel the presence of a spirit around the ship?
Rectification to the star,we're coming close to a coconut tree,
Coins filled in a barrel,
Call me the rich man on sea
Wanted to buy your integrity,
Suddenly,you've taken my birth right,
Lead us;the time is clapping for success,
You're the Psychologist speaking of our existence,
I'm the man who is theologically analysing our existence;
But we shouldn't fright for the same old story,
Look at the moon,it's now full,
I believe we're saved,
And of course,they are secured,
Some have stepped out of the ship,
We're still in here,
Crying everyday for my love one's makes me feel alone,
"Where are they",I seek always their whereabouts,
Escort me to the kingdom of death,
Take the bold step towards it's ruler,
Life is our prime pennant,and we won't swap it,
Soon we'll be lost under the equator,
Tomorrow is engaging today with pain and sweetness,
Wait,for I will serve everyone according to his or her goals,
Much wisdom,less talk;spoken with confidence,
This is your man,"THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY FIVE DAYS".
Form:
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.