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.
For a team to compete in a pennant chase,
they need quality at first, second, and third base.
Players are needed that can hit and field.
Three more are required to complete the outfield.
To field line drives or grounders on the hop,
any team also needs a quality shortstop.
No squad can ever be considered great
if they don’t have a good catcher behind the plate.
Any club needs four or five dependable starters.
To finish the game, a good corps of relievers.
A contending team has a fine pitching staff.
Anything less than that would be a laugh.
In order to reach the top position,
a team has to outscore the opposition.
They need more wins than the competition.
This is any team’s annual mission.
The team from Philadelphia is considered great.
They put it all together in 2008.
The season ended with a World Series victory.
That’s what meeting expectations means to me.
With all due respect to the late Mr. Fregosi,
he was one of the best infielders anyone could see.
However, his later years were plagued with injury.
Jim became involved in the most lopsided trade in history.
The New York Mets were involved in a pennant chase.
They needed a competent player to cover third base.
New York traded a right hander who could have been their ace.
Off went Nolan Ryan to the Angels in California.
He turned out to be the best pitcher in America.
With over seven thousand strikeouts and seven no-hitters to his name,
Ryan was worthy of entrance to the Hall of Fame.
This was a hard pill to swallow for fans of the Mets.
All of them look back on this trade with regrets.
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.
Get out the vote?
I can't I'm on a boat.
Mixing paints, red and blue.
My political flag is purple,
That's right,
Go 'head and sue.
Once I pull into harbor,
Sure I'll consider Obamer...
Sorry it's been awhile
Is my pronunciation vile?
Do we see the forest for the trees?
Or the humans in the parties?
I planned on throwing one once ashore.
Liberal, conservative, hippie, chiropractor--just don't be a bore!
My wet dog Lester whimpers for me to run for Senate.
I tell him I have no agenda, no ten point plan, just wanna see the Cubs win the pennant.
He paw-clatters starboard, ears turned away.
My first speech met with dogged disinterest as we floated through the bay.
"Monkeys in the zoo," I say as I zip-cast my line.
"That's all they are, Lester," and I felt to say it rather fine.
"Monkeys, may be," Lester replied as he jaw-snapped some flies.
"But the cages are open, and they've taken to the streets, all wearing ties."
We'll make it to port one day, Lester and I.
When the game is done, and the shouting has ceased
And the towns are painted purple
As the monkeys look on, in disbelief.
...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.
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.
Lines, Launch Angles and Curve Balls
The boys of summer
Set up for a season of lines, launch angles and curve balls
With straight chalky lines leading to a field of dreams
Where line-ups keep the line moving
On frozen ropes to climb the ladder into the catbird seat
Above the Mendoza line when outlines of a waving pennant envision
Crooked numbers and dusty home plates where grand salamis
Foil curves balls in flying angle launch lines – not lined out,
Not out of line
To make power lines for a hitter’s line of sight
And for bases lines, nicknamed the 45’ line,
That call for calls of fair ball down the line
Or foul across the foul line
To guide the line – fair or foul -
And lines of music for the seventh inning stretch, or the chin,
Sung in lusty lines of fans in seat lines
Or in line for nachos, popcorn, brats and beer –
To cheer the back door slider, can of corn or Uncle Charlie –
A Bronx cheer or line of boos –
A summer lineup card of seeing-eye doubles down the line,
Balls climbing up the ladder lines
Nestled in a flat curve
For lines creating perfect diamond angles
Ringing with famous lines
“Batter up!”
For “There’s no crying in baseball.” –
A nervous breakdown in nine innings” -
Because “It’s outta here!”
“Adios Pelota!” “Good bye Mr. Spaulding!”
“Holy Cow!” “Long gone!”
“Put it on the board” “Hey! Hey!”
“Oh Doctor!” “Bye, bye baby!”
And “It ain’t over till it’s over!”
Because “It’s getting late early.”
And “The impossible just happened.” “Forget it!”
“Hello again everybody! It’s a bee-yoo-tiful day for baseball.”
“How about that?”
“If it wasn’t for baseball I’d be in either the penitentiary or cemetery.”
“Remember these two things – play hard and have fun.”
With lines, launch angles and curve balls.
Opening Day April 1, 2021
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!)
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:
With lank longish hair, of virtue most spare
Hollow cheeked, with joints that creak..An elderly evil proponent of deaths i see there is a reek a pungence of cadavers in such abundance, he knows not where he has buried children a'plenty Grandfathers their
Wives, but then for satan he strives.' He must at least rank as a liutennant skull and
Cross bones on his pennant, a trace of accord..He has trodden the boards floors he is invisible on the black squares.' And will never give up his share.' He mooted for
Guvenor of Gaza, no other i dare could
Show such brass neck.' Of tony blair, who will
Be, no doubt? flexing his ropey old pecs.'