Long Willie Poems
Long Willie Poems. Below are the most popular long Willie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Willie poems by poem length and keyword.
Some numbers tumble down the hallowed halls of baseball’s past -
a sport of numbers after all, these memories hold fast.
Stan Musial wore #6, Lou Gehrig, #4;
the “luckiest man in all the earth”, great player AND much more.
McCovey, Reggie – 44, Hank Aaron wore it too.
Remember those World Series gems? Koufax wore 32.
My favorite: “Say Hey” Willie Mays wore #24;
he’s famous for “The Catch” and yes, that childlike smile he wore.
Ted Williams: .406 - .394 for Tony Gwynn,
if ’94 had known no strike, who knows what might have been?
5,714 K’s Ryan amassed,
plus Nolan’s 7 no-hitters: neither will be surpassed.
“Records are made to be broken”, but THIS one never shall:
2,632 consecutive games for Cal.
1947 – Jackie Robinson’s big year,
He broke the color barrier and had a great career.
Roger Maris – 61* in ’61, but wait…
it seems some other cheaters passed him up in ’98.
I don’t consider some worthy to mention by their name –
Their steroids sadly stained the reputation of the game.
Some other numbers come to mind: Babe Ruth’s 714
Hack Wilson’s RBI’s – 191, obscene!
There’s Rickey Henderson’s 130 steals, divine!
Dimaggio’s streak of 56; Hershiser’s 59.
But if a sacred record falls, we oughtn’t be perplexed,
The game’s baton is passed – one generation to the next.
Now Aaron Judge wears 99 – I think he wears it well,
Bryce Harper’s #3 will shine, as far as I can tell.
Young Bellinger wears 35, Mike Trout sports 27,
And Albert Pujols, #5 – their swings, pure baseball heaven.
Today is baseball’s Opening Day, a LONG-awaited season.
What new numbers might come in play - aligning rhyme with reason?
The stands will all be empty though, as COVID keeps us home –
The closest I could come to being there is write this poem.
These numbers represent some well-loved gamers known for winning;
Even the Good Book recognizes them: “In the Big Inning”!
* - Maris passed Babe Ruth’s record of 60 HRs in a season, but it was a longer season, so the commissioner issued an edict that an asterisk be placed in the record books to annotate a ‘tainted’ new record. Billy Crystal made a brilliant movie about that, calling it 61*
Merely Choices
Millions of hugs and millions of kisses are missing
So too those glorious days for reminiscing
Too many balls and too many dolls never played with
Sixty million laughing voices, silenced as merely choices
We now ride with young Willie McBride
But you will never sit at our graveside
For us there are no white crosses, no names upon a wall
No one’s even heard our voices, we are gone as merely choices
No glory, no honor, no eternal flame
No laughing, no crying, no chance at a game
Our demise rationalized as a right
Since we had not a voice, we were extinguished as merely a choice
But we are a living heavenly chorus
Singing out that you might not ignore us
We were butchered on an alter deemed progress
Sixty million silent voices, sacrificed as merely choices
WEE WILLIE BO By Tony Adamo...
In the heart of the Delta, where the Mississippi flows, Wee Willie Bo, a soulful storyteller, arose.
Twelve-bar phrases, a blues rhythm so fine, Blue notes whisper secrets, like aged wine.
From sharecropper roots, his journey took hold, in the fields of hard labor, he crafted his plan to unfold.
With John Hurt’s country blues etched in his mind, he dug way deep, seeking solace in the new blues sound he would find.
Man, he found the Chicago blues scene, electric and way down raw, where his voice flew way high, breaking every law.
Amazing blues vocals, aching in pain, each note a tear, each chord a haunting refrain. Low down and gritty, he sang of hard times, bad times, struggles, and heartbreaks, the rhythm and rhymes.
Delta blues chords danced in the air, the blues in his soul was his love affair, and the sorrow in his melodies recorded in despair.
Wee Willie Bo a blues talkin’ man, with every strum of the guitar, Bo rewrote the blues jam. His broken-down soul is a testament to grace, In the world of the weary, he found his place. listen closely, and let the blues take hold. For every note, there’s a story told. From the Delta to Chi-town, his legacy flows, and Wee Willie Bo, the heart of the blues, forever grows.
Tito David Rodriguez recruited me to Filipino American Multimedia Entertainment (FAME). He was my choir mate as a base at St. Andrew Catholic Church, Daly City. He and Tito Willie Totanes are my best supporters. When you call a person “late” it means the person passed away. The late director Jesse Pangilinan and Mr. Prospero Luna, a comedian actor and assistant of FAME. He was a very good friend of my late father Mayor Leonardo G. Mendoza who passed away, former mayor of San Pascual Batangas, Philippines. My loving mother is Ms. Dorothy Ann Ramirez to where I am staying right now by the Daly City Bart station, she can cook a good Filipino food. I was an Uprising Star at FAME when all of a sudden a tragic car accident happened on October 11, 1999 with my late best friend Ms. Adiel Rallos and she passed away, my left arm was crused to 41 pieces due to her car seat and was left to coma for or 6 weeks or a month and two weeks. I was in 3 hospitals Stanford ICU, Seton Med but the prognosis at Seton was not good so I was brought to and St. Mary’s, SF where I had Speech Therapy (ST) Occupational Therapy (OT) and Physical Therapy (PT). The late director Mr. Jesse Pangilinan also passed away so the FAME disbanded. I previously met Ms. Regine Velasquez with her songwriter Mr. Ogie Alcasid on early 2000. I thought that God took away my singing career and replaced it with being a part of Heart and Soul’s True Hope at North County, Daly City with Mr. John Zamora as my Case/Social Worker and Mr. Chito Crisostomo M. D. as my Psychiatrist and with writing poetry- it’s therapeutic you know whatever feeling you have, all you need are a pen and a piece of paper and start writing how you feel. I am with “Poetrysoup.com” where I paid $150 for a lifetime member years ago because it increased as years passed by. I was able to convey or deliver the messages to the people. I started with writing a couplet or a 2 lines poem, a Haiku or a 3 lines poem or a Quatrain or a 4 lines poem. When I think I’m ready to write longer words I jumped to learning Sonnet or a 14 lines poem.
I am stuck in an elevator with Cher, Tina Turner, Bette Midler,
Pink, Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga when
Liza Minnelli drops in from a tiny opening in the roof.
We all scream “LIZA!” and then we whip out our instruments.
To be fair, I do not have one to whip out, but I find a spoon in my purse
And a lid to a small sauce pan.
Please do not ask.
This would add to my embarrassment.
They start saying “how about this one?” until Pink wins.
We sing her songs. All of them. They stop playing in the third set.
“Who is clapping off rhythm?” It boils down to me.
The elevator roof trap door opens and Willie Nelson arrives.
He and I agree we are on rhythm
And all the rest of them are wrong.
Best elevator ride ever!
A terrifying sheeted ghost came by and we pretended to be scared.
It was probably Wilbur, and he liked to think that we cared.
Next was a headless kid carrying a bloody head.
That’s got to be Zeke, Tom, Willie, Henry or Ted.
Halloween on our street is fun every year.
We tease and torment each other, pretending some fear.
The kids get together and parade around sometimes.
One of them was a large see-through bank with some dimes.
A table, a treasure chest, a princess, a gargoyle too.
There were nineteen costumes before we were through.
Onto a pirate ship I decided to have myself glom.
Then I recognized the feet and yelled “Come on Mom!”
Parents are not supposed to get in on this action.
But here was my mother, getting her own satisfaction
The headless kid started to laugh now, and I recognized him.
Humiliated, because this was my dad, I ran off with my twin.
Can't change who you are.
Can change who you become.
I want the millions and then sum.
This ain't no Willie-Lump-Lump.
Ain't tryna be no bum.
Spit that bull **** out on a napkin like sum bubblegum.
Leave that ass stankin.
Sip on the drank, and.
Next day do it again, Realities only began.
Like this morning when the birds sung.
David Daquan, mommy won! "Mommy won"!
Still reaching for the sun,
Reciting to the drums.
God is my bullet proof vest,
"Can't be taken down with a gun"!
" I walk like this cause I'm cold l like that"!
"Stand like tho cause I'm strong where I'm at"!
This ain't no pitty pat,
Automatic homerun when I swing the bat.
Stay tryna sit fat.
I am stuck in an elevator with Cher, Tina Turner, Bette Midler,
Pink, Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga when
Liza Minnelli drops in from a tiny opening in the roof.
We all scream “LIZA!” and then we whip out our instruments.
To be fair, I do not have one to whip out, but I find a spoon in my purse
And a lid to a small sauce pan.
Please do not ask.
This would add to my embarrassment.
They start saying “how about this one?” until Pink wins.
We sing her songs - all of them, but stop playing in the third set.
“Who is clapping off rhythm?” It boils down to me.
The elevator roof trap door opens and Willie Nelson arrives.
He and I agree we are on rhythm
All the rest of them are off rhythm.
Someone reaches to dial the emergency phone,
but I bite off their hand.
Tiddly Widdly Willie Little Winkie Wee
Was ever so lovely and kind to little old me
I met him when I was living next to the sea
I think we were two, but we might have been three
Tiddly Widdly Willie Little Winkie Wee
was a lopsided dragon with a golden eye you see
My best friend forever, I nicknamed him Handsome Tee
He took me flying at night to Tennessee and Kentucky
My sister was scared, she was frightened of Tee
He was as big as an ocean liner in the deep blue sea
But he was gentle and kind, and he truly loved me
I will always love my pal, Tiddly Widdly Willie Little Winkie Wee
so satisfied these days
i am actually dancing like i have some sense
i am surprised i actually have some rhythm in my dance steps
it is all because of your belief in me
now you have a couple of sore toes
your right shoulder may still may have a tweak of pain from time to time
i am not even gonna mention the migraines and the conniptions
i am gonna focus on your continued faith in me
my flaws have made you a recluse at times
my flaws have made you wear the frown of weary willie
my flaws have made you shed tears that you should not have
yet and still, you made me feel as if i fit the bill
here we are....all set in our ways....so satisfied these days