Short Ballgame Poems
Short Ballgame Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Ballgame by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Ballgame by length and keyword.
Aches and pains are part of the game
When you reach old age, it just ain't the same
Pains used to last a day
Now take weeks to go away
Hope you make it to the ninth in life's old ballgame
Has this ever happened to you at a ballgame
Your team hits a homer to win, the crowd goes insane
Two male strangers
Unaware of the dangers
They sheepishly sit down, feel they need to explain
Hot dogs, wieners, tube steaks, or any other name,
it's the traditional fare sold at any ballgame.
This long pink sausage in an elongated soft bun
is something that is a treat and a lot of fun.
Dress it up with mustard, relish, onions, et cetera.
Nothing's more popular in the United States of America.
Inspired by a poem written by Gershon Wolf.
Daddy, please take me out to the ball game
running the bleachers, enjoying the fame
buy me some warm peanuts and crackerjacks
let the ball fly to the outfield with a whack!
Daddy, can I go play with my friends in the field?
There are lightning bugs, and they easily yield.
I want to chase and run and twirl and spin.
I don't care about baseball, the sport or the win!
Mow your lawn, swim in the pool!
This is the weekend for all of you.
Fly a kite, go jogging?
Have dinner in a romantic place.
Seventh Heaven!
Go to a ballgame, clean out your garage.
Above all, this is Lord's Day, either
Saturday or Sunday.
So it's more than OK to get off line and
Honor your sweetheart, husband or wife.
Love, Panagiota
5/24/2019
7pm PST
It’s standing there before us
But goes unrecognized
For we don’t use our minds,
We only use our eyes
Invisible and quiet
It remains before us there
But daily chores and ballgame scores
Are all our minds ensnare.
If we would stop and study,
If we would just take pause
And use our minds, not our eyes
We'd embrace the cause
Then still standing there before us
As it’s often been
Is that Golden Opportunity,
Just stop … and let it in.
Imagine Chinese water torture. Anticipate
the carpet covered bed
of Fat’s truck
busy old fool, unruly sun
and you was such a baby
and I wished my friend as sound asleep
and you shall have some peace there, for peace
comes dripping slow,
Alive? You might be dead for all I know
not in silence, but restraint
for Christ’s sweet sake, shut up and watch the ballgame
you add to my afflictions, and amplify the same.
(This poem was created using snippets from other poems.)