Return to October
Yearn for my touch once more
Absolve my November transgressions
Navigate the seasons but anchor in me, in October
The two most dominant baseball pitchers of their eras
On the mound, neither was cute or clever
Each reared back and fired
No matter if they were dead-tired
Sandy Koufax and Nolan Ryan
Most batters gave up even tryin’
The great Yogi Berra once said
I understand how Koufax won 25 games last year”
But how he lost five games just isn’t clear”
Koufax deemed Ryan’s lack of pinpoint control his secret weapon
He labeled Ryan a wild bombardier
Who won games because his wayward 100 mph pitches instilled fear
in the summer of 1997
Twelve year old Ryan Tripp made a 3, 366 mile journey
across the USA raising ten thousand and four hundred dollars
for a sick baby living in his home town.
He took this trip on a twenty-five horse power mower
from Salt Lake City, Utah to Washington, D.C.
He was followed by his adoring parents and grandparents
in pick-up trucks, insuring his safety.
I demand Justice,
For the world's hatred, a blight,
Justice for the innocent's tragic plight,
Where evil prospers in the night,
Like shadows dark, obscuring light.
I demand Justice,
For black lives' suffering, deep and stark,
The violence's pain leaves a lasting mark,
Gunshots ring out, like a predator's bark,
As if life's worth is just a lark.
I demand Justice,
For Ryan Gainer's untimely end,
Shot three times, a life to rend,
As if his fate they could bend,
Such cruelty, we cannot pretend.
I demand Justice,
Tired of homes targeted, hearts torn,
Tired of excuses for lives worn,
Tired of the innocent being shorn,
By violence, leaving families forlorn.
I demand Justice,
Ryan was no demon or beast,
To withstand bullets, to say the least,
His strength not that of a fierce beast,
But a troubled teen, his pain released.
I demand Justice,
No excuse for taking a life's breath,
No justification in facing death,
Life's value beyond measure or depth,
Why steal it away, with every breath?
I demand Justice
For now and evermore,
Let fairness and equality soar,
Justice, our beacon, forevermore.
Have its lobster claws times two pincered off
One way sticks of this crustacean’s underwater trap?
Eight leggedly it gallops off among arthritic, bulbous trees.
And waves its spiny tail to cover up its tracks.
Dogs have joined the spirit of the game,
Spaniels with foreheads as regally as high
As their master princess on a unicorn
And will play this pint sized monster-knight to death.
Undistracted by surrealistic fish camouflaged in dark,
Untempted by sea horses following her braid.
Never can crustacean hunts be lost
When hounds are hot upon a trail of lobster sauce.
Minimalist Robert Ryan
so conceptual this particular American
Painting white on white
gave we colour deficients quite a fright
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.
Ryan my son, when i visit you
I am glad to be so near
Ryan my son when I visit you
It hurts so bad to see you there
Ryan my son when I visit you
I see where friends have been before
Ryan my son when I visit you
The gifts from friends I do adore
Ryan my son when I visit you
I think of memories I want to keep
Ryan my son when I visit you
The pain I have, it runs so deep
Ryan my son when I visit you
I speak with quivered words
Ryan my son when I visit you
I hope my words don't go unheard
Ryan my son when I visit you
I can't see you, but I know that you are here
Ryan my son when I visit you
The grave you're in
Is filled with all my tears
In Search of: Private Ryan
Many days have passed, many nights have gone,
Many men have fallen, but many stand on,
Fighting for what’s right, fighting for whose gone,
Fighting for those far away, preserving our peaceful dawns.
Remember those brave men, far away from home,
Very close to the enemy, but very close to alone.
Remember then, letters to them, with each word,
Make them feel, closer back to home.
NoelsArt
Comments: After watching the movie, “Saving Private Ryan”. I was inspired to write the poem above. FEEDBACK WELCOME.
Cursed With Paul Ryan
With Paul Ryan, we have been cursed,
And of all the Speakers he is the worst;
Poor at speaking,
And facts seeking;
Became dead issue and needs a hearst.
Jim Horn
27/03/2018
Never give up Ryan, you can make anything real,
The harder you push yourself the better youll feel.
Always striving for success and moving forward,
Even failure at times is a worthwhile reward.
This is how we learn, how we continue to improve,
Don’t let it stop you or your desire for success remove.
But don’t make the same mistakes over and over,
Like sitting in the grass looking for a four leafed clover.
As long as you never lose your desire,
Searching for your truth you will aspire.
Listen to your heart and you will reach your dreams,
This world is yours, much more than it seems.
I love you buddy and I always will,
Any success you have will give me a thrill.
Ryan Ran Away
Ryan romped, stomped and galloped away;
Did swing and sway returning another day;
Wisconsin cheese;
Should say please,
And with his absent mind still tries to play.
Jim Horn
He had modest mother who was a plucker;
Someone with stick of sucker had stuck her;
Broke yoke;
And no joke;
Chicken not steak then we would chuck her.
Jim Horn
Goodby'n to Crying Ryan
What we are doing is saying our goodby'n,
To the one who the most has been crying;
Moving on;
Will be gone;
It was none other than pitiful Paul Ryan.
Jim Horn
Am getting poems and putting together,
And/or not when you like them weather,
First initial;
Now official;
Trump's orange hair looks like new leather.
Jim Horn
Like An Old Hen
Heve been sitting
I HAVE GREAT RESPECT FOR THAT NOLAN RYAN.
IN EVERY SINGLE WAY.
I WOULD LOVE TO THINK OF THIS
AS JUST ANOTHER DAY.
NOLAN RYAN IS OLD SCHOOL.
I JUST LOVE THE WAY HE PLAYS.
WHEN THE TWO OF US DO BATTLE,
ONE OF US WILL HAVE TO PAY.
I WON'T LAUGH AT NOLAN RYAN.
NOT EVEN WHEN HE'S WILD.
HE STRUCK ME OUT 3 TIMES SAME GAME,
AND HE NEVER CRACKED A SMILE.
I'VE BEEN KNOWN TO GET SOME HITS,
MANY TIMES TWO OR THREE.
WHEN I HAVE TO FACE THAT NOLAN RYAN,
I NEED TO BE THE BEST THAT I CAN BE.
TONIGHT I HAVE TO FACE THAT CHALLENGE.
I KNOW IT WONT BE EASY.
IF YOUR A FAN SITTING IN THE STANDS TONIGHT.
RYAN'S FASTBALL WILL MAKE IT BREEZY.
“Cerebral Palsy has not held me back,
I've not let it hold me back.” A footballer,
In past years on the England CP squad,
Ryan is a para-triathlon PT2 competitor.
In 2015 Ryan won the bronze medal,
ITU World Championships in Chicago,
And in 2016 in Buffalo City, the Worlds,
Ryan won the gold in 01:13:33, the title.
Then in Aguilas, Spain, at more Worlds,
He came second in a time of 01:13:31,
And at the Rotterdam World Champs,
Ryan came fifth in 01:12:57, much fun.
At Rio de Janeiro he finished sixth place,
His cerebral palsy affects his right side,
He uses with dexterity an adapted bike,
With left hand gears and brakes to glide.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.