Short One Over The Eight Poems

Distorted figures
To know and to not explain
Entangled resident...

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Who am I?
I have a particular smell
One hundred and eight double stitches
All done by hand
I get retired after six pitches
I might be found in Wrigley’s field
sometimes I am hit with a hard crack
I land in a giant leather glove
or not...

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Nuclear bombs are stacked
To use when an enemy needs to be whacked
With one leader having eight hundred bombs ready
And another matching them so very handy

Scientists move their clock 
Closer to the midnight slot
For mutual deterrence is the story
Locked with complacency with no glory.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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I can see one thing after eight weeks at home, trying to entertain myself.
	I am hard to entertain.
		And
			Retirement is not for me.

I have been forcing myself
		To have fun
			The last few days, dying to get back to school.
				Where my friends are.

Home is not a relaxing place
	If you keep looking at all the stuff you know you should have done
			But you did not want to do.

				Take me back to work, please!...

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Another World Series 
  I lay down and watched 
as the Cubs 
won it in ten
   A victory after one hundred and eight years of frustration 
My hometown team - the Mets 
   didn't mention it this year 
   but I salute the Cubs of Chicago 
Carl Sandburg wrote of that metropolis and 
    wrote of baseball 
Thousands upon thousands 
    of fans 
in 
the 
stands 
  cry out 
for the their team
   After the struggle 
 I pick up a pen - write this ode
   about the field of dreams...

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