Short Baseball Glove Poems
Short Baseball Glove Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Baseball Glove by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Baseball Glove by length and keyword.
Baseball Glove on gloves
Baseball bat, too cold to hold
Hurry, SPRING, Hurry
Inspired by Carol Brown’s “WAITING FOR SPRING “ Contest
Dedicated to the 2010 World Series Champions “Boston Red Sox”
A baseball glove lies on its back
in a trunk of items
once fresh and youthful
now discarded for
love and marriage
perhaps a stroller
whose blue-eyed
blue-bootied
occupant will
himself!
soon be
the proud owner
of his first glove
sawy with the beat.my meat cutter pourous self was hell on wheels before the
ships came in.now with livin costin so much,i grow nuts out in a field.lend me
your ear,JFK,what happened to the other day,where we all live so sweet and get
to meet,a pretty neat baseball glove?like a glove?where?enough.
Somewhere
Somewhere there’s a baseball
Shivering in the cold
Somewhere there’s a baseball glove
Afraid of growing old.
Somewhere there’s a baseball bat
Some weary cleats and sweat stained hat.
Somewhere there’s a baseball field
Beneath snow’s winter fall
Somewhere dreaming children
Hear the umpire shout
“Play Ball”.
John G. Lawless
Somewhere there’s a baseball
Shivering in the cold
Somewhere there’s a baseball glove
Afraid of growing old.
Somewhere there’s a baseball bat
Some weary cleats - sweat stained hat.
Somewhere there’s a baseball field
Beneath snow’s winter fall
Somewhere dreaming children
Hear the umpire shout
“Play Ball”.
John G. Lawless
submitted to – Batter Up – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Debbie Guzzi
my Macgregor glove
my other true love
for so many years
taken away fears
you made me a some-body
no longer a no-body
through high school and the navy
when my life wasn't gravy
after the divorce
life took a new course
but then it got worse
another divorce
after the first one
realized you were gone
the catches we made
I will never trade
thanks for playing ball with me
I knew had to set you free
The outfield boy stands waiting all alone,
playing the game that many children love.
From the pitcher’s mound, a ball has been thrown.
The outfield boy stands waiting all alone.
The ball has been hit. See how it has flown
straight into the glowing boy’s baseball glove!
The outfield boy stands waiting all alone,
playing the game that many children love.
Written Dec. 2015 for the Oil Paintings 4 & 5 Poetry Contest of Eve Roper