Long Softball Poems
Long Softball Poems. Below are the most popular long Softball by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Softball poems by poem length and keyword.
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
Can't tie shoes. Can't read aloud. Can't memorize Latin.
IQ test, panic, shyness.
Confidence goes missing.
Ask, and you will receive.
A corner turned.
College, city planner, romance, graduation.
Paradise lost. War drums.
"You are hereby ordered to report."
Many rockets fired, crashing all around.
Fear and dread. "Grab your guns." Invasion.
Ask, and you will receive.
Deliverance! Unscathed.
A terrible war left behind.
Cheers on homeward flight abound.
Civilian life: lost and bewildered.
Just don't fit in.
Ask, and you will receive.
It all comes together.
Grad school, true love and a career.
Wedding bells, children, grandchildren.
Blessings astound.
Retirement: Spanish, softball, world travel.
All a pure delight.
But time speeds up. No, we slow down. Sunset and aging.
Microsoft 7, 10 and 11.
Accounts, passwords, applications.
Patient portals, lab tests, hospitalizations.
Masks, shots and Covid 19.
Can't keep up. There's no time. Trouble remembering.
Anger, self-doubt, then frustration.
Ask, and you will receive.
Rescued again.
True love comforts.
Eternal Love sustains.
Inspirational Christian Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
February 23, 2022
Can't tie shoes. Can't read aloud. Can't memorize Latin.
IQ test, panic, shyness. Confidence goes missing.
A corner turned. Ask, and you will receive.
College, city planner, romance, graduation.
Paradise lost. War drums. "You are hereby ordered to report."
Fear and dread. Grab your guns. Invasion.
Many rockets fired, crashing all around.
Deliverance! Cheers on homeward flight abound.
"Baby killer! How justify?" Keep it secret. Don't fit in.
Ask, and you will receive. It all comes together.
Grad school, true love, and a career.
Wedding bells, children, grandchildren. Blessings astound.
Retirement: Spanish, softball, world travel. All a pure delight.
But time speeds up. No, we slow down. Sunset and aging.
Microsoft 7, 10 and 11.
Accounts, passwords, applications.
Patient portals, lab tests, hospitalizations.
Masks, shots and Covid-19.
Can't keep up. There's no time. Trouble remembering.
Anger, self-doubt, then frustration.
Ask, and you will receive. Rescued again.
True love comforts. Eternal Love sustains.
What makes the hiking up mountains more striking?
What makes the driving more fun than arriving?
What makes the ocean-ing worth the sun lotioning?
Gear!
Gear makes the biking much more to my liking,
Gear makes the camping way less spirit-damping,
Gear makes the gardening less callous-hardening,
Let's hear it for Gear!
Now softball-leaguing is way more intriguing,
Now boogie boarding is much more rewarding,
Now even jogging feels less like a flogging,
3 cheers for the Gear!
Titanium! Spandex! Aluminum! Latex!
Hi-tech! All-weather! Light as a feather!
No wonder I struggled for many a year -
I had not the wherewithal to buy the gear!
I was very young when, I first tasted it;
that sweet, milky nectar of the Gods.
One Easter morning it appeared in a basket,
on our piano bench and it was wrapped in shiny foil;
all colors of a pastel rainbow.
Tiny egg-balls, smelling like cocoa and sugar;
one looked the most beautiful blue,
I’d ever seen and it was larger than the rest so,
I bit into it first.
The revelation of such ecstasy, I had never before, experienced;
it melted across my young palate,
leaving a trail of succulence to, claim its’ path.
Divine bauble of confectionary delight; indeed it was,
It disappeared all too soon;
left me sucking the back of my front teeth and craving another of those mouth-watering adventures.
As I grew, I experienced unbounded insight into that world called…chocolate.
It seemed, some miracle cure for nearly any ailment from,
losing a softball game to the loss of a pet;
the mystery medicine took away every sadness.
I could have it cold or hot, frozen or liquid, with orange or raspberry filling in any shape or size.
That wondrous creation of confectionary bless, was everywhere!
Oh joy of joyous celebration;
I was in love and filled with,
elation for the sticky, gooey,
sweet, meditation-in-my-mouth.
Nothing in life can compare to its’ mind-bending aroma; I would bathe in it if I had enough, to do so.
I have shared it with so many; family, friends, pets with,
Never one complaint; fully convinced that it was the ultimate, sanity in a world gone mad.
The day that researchers proclaimed its’,
“medicinal value”; I celebrated with a semi-sweet toast to this, food of the gods; my ambrosia; never looking back.
With the changing seasons,
I’m the deepest green, sometimes dry and brown
I ‘m tall and wave when the wind blows
Or sometimes short when I am freshly mown.
I’m like a green thick lush blanket
Sometimes used in sports fields
For golf, football or cricket, baseball and softball
I am very durable with contact play.
Warmed by nascent sun gentle rays
They walk on my uniform soft blades
With confidence, giving-way under their feet
Sometimes I’m damp and cool.
If, I’m brown and dry stubble
A crunch beneath their feet you will hear.
I reclaim the earth and thrive.
My shoots stand tall to reach the sky.
I so enjoy the brightness of the day
And cool air after fresh rain-shower.
I shelter earth and insects and what matters
And maybe a dandelion or two in the spring.
8/25/2023
Sisters swinging,
running,
catching.
We mean business,
as adults,
don’t erupt
like a jealous teen.
But,
she did;
I called her out.
She picked up
dirt, at home base,
and slung the particles
into contact-covered eyes.
To my surprise!
You know,
as a fully evolved adult,
you suck it up,
just like when the ball bounced -
smacked me on the chin.
Sisters swinging,
running,
catching;
they mean business
when they exact revenge
on the she-devil.
I didn’t see,
but I was told,
“We got her back!”
They had my back.
Be careful slinging dirt;
my sisters will call you
“O U T!”
I cannot stand playing hard ball, I'm a softball girl, ya know,
Hard ball is for men, I could get hurt by the balls they throw,
I would be too nervous to run to the base for fear that I would get hit,
Please God, put me back on the bleachers, it's too late..I know I cant sit,
Why couldn't I've been a cheerleader waving my pom poms in the air,
I wouldn't have to slide into home base and get dirt in my nails and hair,
Why was I built like a line backer, I get pats on the back from the guys,
They can't even see the sensitivity, the uniform is the disguise,
All they see is another player, my hair tucked under my hat,
If I tried to make the cheerleader squad I know I'm not cut out for that,
To Eat A Peach
Spring is here.
The delicate tree blossoms replace
the delicate white lights of Winter.
From the petals fruit will grow.
Pears, plums, apricots, cherries,
nectarines...
Peaches.
I set the unripe soft rose and yellow
orb on the windowsill.
Two days later I tenderly lift it
and gently squeeze its warmth before
I wash it.
Biting into it...
the sweet liquid is Ambrosia.
The juice runs down my chin onto
my tee.
I greedily suck the peach’s flesh dry.
I daydream as I munch.
Peach cobbler, peach pie with a lattice crust,
peach shortcake, peach muffins,
stewed peaches, peach tea bread,
slices on your cereal, slices in a bowl with cream.
OR...only for dessert?
How would a
chicken breast soaked in a peach marinade taste?
My taste buds begin chattering.
Summer’s here!
corn on the cob, okra, tomatoes:
small ones that pop in your mouth
and big beefy wedges that
garnish crisp celery slices, carrot medallions,
tender Bibb lettuce, sliced mushrooms, cucumbers,
asparagus, broccoli, Vidalia onions, cauliflower...
Watermelon, blueberries, cantaloupe,
strawberries, honeydews, raspberries...
Juicy hot dogs, spicy barbecue, thick charbroiled hamburgers,
hot German potato salad, 3-bean salad, macaroni salad,
potato chips and French onion soup dip,
soft pretzels dipped in brown mustard, popcorn...
chocolate chip cookies, Snickerdoodles,
strawberry shortcake,
chocolate cake with red, white and blue frosting for the 4th,
apple pie
— softball, Mom, doggies —
I awake with a start. There is drool
on my pillow.
Another day begins but it’s really
not another day.
It’s the same day I’ve been living
since 1 May 2017 ~
The day I let the dentist pull
out the last 5 teeth I had
in my lower jaw.
And as I come to consciousness
my tongue pushes
against and spills out over the
the soft toothless tissue that burns constantly
and is covered in a thick gooey saliva ~ place a
teaspoon of Elmer's
glue in your mouth ~ if
you care to have a taste
of my reality.
Summer’s here.
Clear your palate.
Clean your plate.
Barbara Dickenson
1 May 2018
- [ ]
Jesyca
A little girl full of life with so much love
for her papa. It was love at first sight
when papa laid eyes on her at her birth.
He was her nanny; papa never laid
her down but cradled her in his arms
until it was time to leave.
He was mama until she was two.
When he would correct her, he'd say,
"No, "Papa."
She was unbending and would repeat by saying,
"No," Mama."
He taught her to ride her first tricycle,
taught her to throw her first ball,
he helped her with homework when she started school.
Once in a while she'd call and asked,
"Papa would you come to school today
and have lunch with me."
and of course, Papa couldn't never say no to his little girl.
Her first baseball game she played on,
was a t-ball team of all boys and one girl.
Of course, she outshined them all
and took home the winning game ball.
She has been playing in the All–Star Softball Team.
Now eight years old,
coaches are watching her to get her on their team.
By Eve Roper 9-10-2014