It’s opening day (that’s for baseball);
The season’s officially here,
With fans set to flock to the ball fields
To watch, buying hot dogs and beer.
If life were compared to a ball game,
Each inning a decade or so,
We’d root for our home team, while knowing
The game’s sometimes boring and slow.
Yet other times, there is excitement
And we take the lead in the score,
Without any way of predicting
What action is waiting in store.
There’s a break in the 7th for stretching,
When the game’s cut as if by a knife,
Which is like when it’s time to retire
And confront what is left of your life.
Then the players get back in position,
The outcome still up in the air,
But there isn’t much time to the finish
And perhaps not much power to spare.
Now my husband’s a bit of a joker;
This baseball/life theme’s his, not mine,
Yet when he said we’re in the 9th inning*,
I knew I would pilfer that line.
*The title is what he actually said about
where we’re at, which cracked me up…
Nobody does something for nothing
Everybody expects something in return
If he doesn’t receive the prize, he will snatch the land
If he gives you something, he quickly extends his left hand
To grab or pilfer something in return
It’s dark, please turn on the lantern
An eye for an eye, an eye for a nose
To tell the truth, my friends, nobody knows
What the heck is going on
Piracy is a fantastic weapon
No prize, no land
No money, no band
No oil, no freedom
No fun, no gum
No kiss, no honey
No hugs, no money
Everybody wants something in return
It’s nighttime, please light the lantern.
Copyright © January 2026 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
If batters do always stumble we will curse
If chances fumble don’t tease be adverse
Crumble if new ways to play won't traverse
If wickets tumble please don’t be so averse
Converse chaps humble perhaps rehearse
Bumble & us mumble alright grumble ..terse
Coerce if in a jumble must be more diverse
Perverse rumble in hollow Bazball universe
Reverse don't have to follow chapter & verse
Pom aliens can pilfer from the Australians laden purse
Bashes heirs to their nations flair reputations do nurse
Or flashes of crashes in another Ashes clashes hearse
Robbed by the hobnobbed Baz Ben & Bobbed curse
Trump I-Fucation
Flickering beacon of light.
Red core inflamed.
Elites on the dole.
Narcissists
Me Trumps We.
Fraud:
Ace in the Hole.
GOP Rats pilfer the hold.
Viral blight dissembles.
Emperor fiddles
While chaos reigns.
Diagnosis: Deep Vain Trumposis.
Systemic Sclerosis.
Democracy Desecrated,
Pandora’s lost hope!
Copyright@Mel Gill 2023
Trinkets and treasures, given away
Something for nothing, what can I say?
Jewelry or gold
Some artwork of old
A gift for someone on my mind today
Shopping, searching, a second hand store
Pirate and pilfer, the bargains galore
A want or a need
Obsession or greed
It all depends what you're looking for
Recycle a relic, admire an antique
Killing some time, in a brownstone boutique
Whatever the find
Be it crude or refined
A gift for a friend, guaranteed unique.
Daniel Turner
The world doesn’t tend to give you what you want
Give me a locked box, the indescribable taunt
What if she was feeling generous?
In a moment of empathy, some severance
My fingers delve deep and rummage
I’d pay your entry fee, some sort of tonnage
Reaching past the gold, the silver
Some objects the victims to pilfer
I can feel it beating at the bottom, submerged by guilt
Picking up the shattered pieces, always knew you needed rebuilt
I'll spend all night putting you back together
Please let me talk to you, I can feel our tether
Your heart was broken in the bottom of my box
Why you left it with me is a total flummox
I chose to return your heart back to you, as you repaired mine
Maybe this time my act of kindness will cause us to intertwine
The world doesn’t tend to give you what you want
But if you give me a chance, maybe I can
How might I replicate your verse with deceit,
Claiming ownership, a fraudulent feat.
The sentiments woven, not from my core,
A stolen melody, a hollow encore.
How do I connect to the sunset's gold,
When purloined treasures in my hands unfold?
In the radiant daylight, brazen and bright,
I pilfer your wealth, devoid of true light.
How might I borrow your emotions, a theft so bold,
Claiming them as mine, when the pain's not been told.
Loneliness wrapped in borrowed lines divine,
A counterfeit connection, a deceptive design.
How do I profess love with words not authentically mine,
Desire and yearning from another's line?
Expressing affection, a counterfeit show,
In someone else's verses, my feelings won't grow.
How could I snatch your art, a precious display,
When the sentiments painted, not mine to convey.
In the misty rain, your love I'd feign,
Yet only fog in my mind's windowpane.
How might I borrow, and not call it thine,
A snippet of work, claiming it's mine.
Yet with proper reference, an ethical find,
Admiring your craft, no plagiarism behind.
Smile, Jesus Loves You
Miracle Man
5/12/2023
Sometimes in life, events pilfer our smile,
and oft times we’re tempted to query why.
We view it as punishment not a faith trial,
that has grieved our day and It’s gone awry.
In prayer we seek strength for another mile,
while in thought we ponder, do others truly care.
If some temporary event has stolen our smile,
God won’t put more on us than we can bear.
1 Corinthians 10:13
There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.
There's much trouble,
rumors of insanity plaque the planet.
Jesus has been showing up
in the shape of passing clouds.
False prophets
are jockeying for better positions,
upon a Hollywood red carpet.
Good is urgent but as late as always.
The turtle lost the rabbit race.
Kindness flowers unseen
in whisky-laced ice cubes.
Is this the end or the beginning,
or are we in the middle of both
hell and heaven looking for neverland,
an interim place
where the devil is some punk
looking to pilfer salvation
from an abandoned church?
SHENANIGANS
Shenanigans and hullabaloos of the Westerners worsens our sins in this societal ruins,
washing-in it's wastes and wildness with unrest
just like Amazon delivering parcels with its crest.
The thief with the aim to survive hunger got an arrest
but corrupt wealthy well paid politicians goes for free,
Others hoard or pilfer treasure troves from every tree.
Neither envy unknown affluence of any type
nor thrive in the glory of other people's hype.
Don't live in the prison of other people's opinion.
Or meddle in their false esteemed & established union.
In all fairness, let the world handle it's business;
And despite life's shenanigans, show finesse.
You're one man army just as the people to the world.
The unpredictability of life got the world enamored.
Let the world face and stifle it's own thorn,
Don't be the bunch, but in your own sphere be the one.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © December2022.
Late commers snap beaky throats,
mug with angry complaints.
A gathering
of de-frocked preachers strut
and preen, a tussled foraging,
hustle, and riot.
Up in the branches brothers caw and jeer.
Upheavals come together,
those with more pluck, snatch and pilfer.
Wanton blackouts of carrion crows
crowd my eyes
with their petty, ill-mannered crimes.
Temptations and desires fade
A heaviness pervades your quilt
Shadows pilfer heaven’s joy
Every flower doomed to wilt
Resistance born from a hearth
Solitary feelings float around
The pain of dejection persists
Dreams chained to the ground
Winter’s mind is a lonesome buffer
Dulled senses reluctant to cope
A rainbow’s fate is annihilation
Here dies every woeful ounce of hope
Mystic eyes veiled by heaps of pity
Ruined tears form a crystal glaze
Relief is but a shameless unicorn
Time worth the price of your days
Wishful thinking is a trite melody
Nature’s purpose obscured by lies
Nothingness speaks louder than words
Unhappiness flows from white skies
I want to be a thief, to pilfer rob and steal
I want to be found guilty, given time to reflect and heal
I want to be locked up in a solitary cell
I want to be left alone to stare into the depths of hell
I want to be set free in an ocean far away
Drifting into the blue yonder day after day after day
I want to leap off a building and plummet to the ground
I want to be buried and never ever found
I want to be a wrecking ball and destroy all future dreams
I want to be a raging torrent to devour the rivers and streams
I want to be the storm that hits in the middle of the night
With deafening huge thunderbolts and destructive lightning strikes
I want to be a nuisance, to scream and shout out loud
And tell the world what’s happened to the newly gathered crowd
I want to be a conjurer to deceive and change what’s true
I want to be an illusionist and magic back you
To hear your voice and hold you tight would take away my grief
Can anyone hear my plea?
I want to I be that thief!
Mandates
Haiku: by Tom
10/29/2021
Mandates are edicts
meant to pilfer our freedoms;
cleverly thought out.
What is the essence of America?
Finding and maintaining that perfect,
delicate balance between freedom “to” and freedom “from.”
Marilyn Vos Savant
Blood marks the score of a finished game
Victory champions over boundless disdain
Prosperous oceans cherish tides of mirth
Tumultuous ties divide; Faith gives birth
Annihilation arrives at a familiar destination
Power ferries the raft of exploitation
Beautiful and spacious eyes reflect
Amber waves of pain can only collect
Reason masquerading as a noble friend
Purpose in the name of glory and pretend
Treasure stolen by a current threat
Past exchanged for a future debt
Battles waged as resistance remains free
Subjugated souls sing their pining plea
All sweet dreams are fated to cease
Unseen Lords pilfer everlasting peace
Mercy requires a beating heart
Capitulation demands a willing part
A realm once known for liberating choice
Here rests a nation, a sea, and a dying voice
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