Football brings a people together,
A country's people unite,
And yet almost but not quite,
When race is a factor, hatred leads the fight,
A sport that supposedly brings together a nation,
Sure does like a bit of discrimination,
When a Black player scores -
The crowd roars,
When a Black player misses -
The crowd becomes malicious,
Fans become hypocrites,
And when the team needs support, all you hear is crickets,
Just racial remarks,
And racists embark,
To blame,
As an excuse to shame,
To hate -
And humiliate,
Black players who are the only reason their team is so great,
The Beauty Of Baseball Poetry Contest
Matt Caliri
A supposedly wide-open, empty street
A rubber ball, a plastic bat, and a real game.
Kids playing to the baseball beat
The diamond asphalt is just the same.
Lines are drawn, and teams are picked.
The pickup games are for bragging rights
Where emotions are high, and egos are nicked.
Some kids haven't reached their grown heights.
The bigger ones hit the longer ball
The little tots hit short liners that hit parked cars.
Homers hit homers over the wall
A neighbor’s house is seeing stars.
Foul balls find a garden bed
Where a stampede of kids thrashes the roses.
A homeowner is cussing and seeing red.
Today's game comes to an end and forecloses.
Tomorrow’s stars have a dream
To play on the big stage.
Where it all started with the pickup teams
On the streets and to the homeowner’s rage.
Baseball is America’s pastime.
Hot dogs, sunflower seeds, and lemonade fill the plate.
There is a passion and a youthful chime
And these kids arrived early and don’t want to be late.
Rumors abound
All around town
Lily White
Needs a knight
She is tangled
Being wrangled
By the tricky trees
Planted by Peacocks from Leeds
Wolves are down under
Hearing wraths thunder
Drinking Burnley claret wine
Getting ready to do second tier time
In comes the Hammer girl
Wearing expensive pearls
Bought using Gallo credit
Wondering, ‘will anyone get it?’
Message, ‘relegate’
Easier opponents await
Fans will have reason to cheer
Dousing the same expensive beer
As players work on maturing skills
Crunching numbers, paying the bills
Oh yes, who is going to get dropped
Commentating, ‘our season truly was a flop’
Officially closing the show
Taking the athletic production to parts unknown
Goal now ‘will want to come back’
Claiming healed healthy, surviving a relegation attack
The first act sets the scene
Romantic and serene
In the second act it is revealed
The conflict there that was concealed
Count to three, it's there to see
The act that brings finality...
The resolution or... dissolution
There's a solution for ev'rything
Sometimes it's sweet, sometimes it stings
Sometimes it's bitter, sometimes sweet
But that's what makes the play complete
Though we leave the stage it won't leave us
And like the note left in the dust
No longer there for all to see
It's now etched in our memory
It goes the way that all things go
Coming to rest down in your soul
Some you recall while some grow small
But down there you will find them all
Or... one day when you're not looking
They'll find you
They'll find you, that's how it's played
The game of life, the bed you've made
Ev'ry wrinkle ev'ry speck
Upon your soul it will reflect
There for all the world to see
The way you played is the way you'll be
Remembered as the curtain falls
As long as anyone recalls
They align in position
Ready to move the ball
Doesn't matter how long they're gone
The know to whom the play will fall
Oh they will shout about
Foul play on the field
Fully aware of masks being worn
And the inability to face the guild
No TRUTH can hold them
No free flow in the ranks
They are the middle blocks
Separating rulers from the skanks
When the roll is called up yonder
And the scores all tallied up
You'll find ornate trophies
Are still just empty cups
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-18-2025
On board
in corners of my mind
forfeit never, it’s
c a
s
t l
e
i n
g
sacrifices for queen's gambit
Hakeem "The Dream" Olajuwon,
Had moves defenders would frown upon.
From Lagos to Texas, he rose to fame,
And left rivals grasping in shame.
As "Little Moses," they called his name,
In Houston, he rose to acclaim.
He ruled with finesse,
Brought gold to the press,
And walked in the halls of great fame.
Till today, he's a legend of the game,
And basketball players still honour his name.
One of the greatest, his legacy thrives,
Still sharing his wisdom in many lives.
The two stared at one another
both knew something that the other
didn’t; that was the game; the rules
by which they play, and played, the fools.
The putrid stench beneath their feet,
that those who went before excrete,
impregnates their skin to slow taint
their rotting ankles, in restraint;
for there is no escape, save one;
one word divides those lost or won.
They chose to play this game, these two,
paid their dues, later joined the queue.
The fun soon turned to anger, hate
vile intercourse, spitting raw debate
the scratching of old wounds, new scars
what's old, what's new, what's mine, what's ours!
Blood slowly seeps from bites by rat
lapped greedily by purring cat,
two squawking rooks, and buzzing flies
that crawl around their staring eyes
hatched from their own fetid waste;
two lovers, gamers, now debased
They thought they'd easy win this game;
but neither ever named the name.
And so the two they sit and stare
at their flaking skin, falling hair
disintegration of each face
ever locked in death's embrace.
He watches with an evil smirk;
this couple in their deathly cirque;
both rotting from without, within;
both guilty of a deadly sin!
Funny how she thinks,
She is the gold,
And oh, how it glitters.
Pitiful how he sees her,
Just like a new toy,
For his fantasies and pleasure.
Because some boys are players,
And girls are the games,
And the fun never ends.
the great bard says
we're all players *
that play many parts
but my shank hasn't shrunk
that the world's too wide for--
my manly voice fills it just fine
maybe after a pint or two
in mid-speech a word
(on the rarest occasion)
eludes me
so--
okay--when it does
--don't you dare
I'll find it myself
don't deny my muscle its exercise
don't cast me a child lost in oblivion
in my world I'm still the king
and please remind me (should I forget)
*From As You Like It by William Shakespeare
Labyrinthia P. Babineaux …………… The White Witch of the Lower 9th Ward
Papa Babineaux …………………………… The Father, an honest apothecary
Algebra Babineaux ……………………… The even-tempered Mother
Bumblebee Babineaux ………………… The precocious younger Sister
Gnat Babineaux …………………………… The curious little Brother
Cabernet Babineaux …………………… The distant Cousin
Ulysses “Zully” Kowolski ……………… The world-weary Sailorman
Nikita Something ………………………… The learned Creole Seer
Mitchell Hollywood ………………………. The adulterous Inn Keeper
Tom Sickley …………………………………… The disingenuous Feather Merchant
Fr. Marcus Paternoster ……………...... The lecherous Clergyman
Steve Merkin ………………………………… The unscrupulous Accountant
Vince Fettish ………………………………… The nefarious Fantasy Man
Xerxes the Great …………………………… The Emperor of Persia and Media
Dante Foolhardy …………………………... The Stultifying Court Jester
John Travailleur, Esq. …………………… Just another John
Plus … townspeople, pirates, Indians, street musicians and beggars, Cajuns, swamp rats, women, young ladies, and girls.
The myths of innocence & simplicity
hide beneath a mask of fraility
within youthful pleasures of times long past
human desire forever heads the cast;
What seemed simple then,is just relative
through rose-tinted spectacles,we forgive,
forget so easily life's reality,
vulnerable,alone in our self-pity;
Circumstance has moved on,we have stayed
transfixed by myths,our memories frayed;
twenty-four hours,still was then, a day
but different complications held sway.
Our times change,yet inside we remain the same
as players,not spectators in the game
Year Posted 2010
Halfway through summer
You delivered a bummer
Sold off all your big stars
Nobody knows
who your new players are
Last night's game?
You lost Ten-to-Nothing
Today you scored more
Something like 17 to 4
Poor fans have nothing to cheer
We just cry in our beer
But, I'll come watch anyway
'Course, my ticket YOU'LL pay
~ I wasn't born yesterday!
_________________________________
For more information on my birthday,
Multiply 24 beers by 3, then ask a gypsy!
~ I ain't no dummy!
Players in the stadium
Patient as waiting soldiers
Seek stirring to signify
Attack artillery emboldened
Provisions are messages
Loaded with fresh opening
Responses rapidly fired
Lonely's ease encroaching
Place plus time is firmed
Balaclava covered burgler
Creeps comically around corners
Salivating, smiling, eager
Tally the touches, gripped tap
Slithered fingers, swimming fish
Sock threaded leeches reach thighs
Standard restraint abolished
Meddled with moods hang resplendent
Sexy ceremony elevates
Podium of passion captures
Camera's fleeting forever embrace
31st July
Third or First
Bronze Gold high
ghostly beluga whales
shy and discerning
hide out in coves
manatees giggle their secrets
their calves are frisky and open
dolphins swim toward the boats
making friends with everyone
sharks wait for lunch
hoping to catch a whiff of blood
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