When playing basketball
being tall is best it's thought
but that's not all
wearing saggy baggy shorts on the court
needs keen hand-eye coordination
plus being fleet of foot
and have no quibble with dunk or dribble
if through the hoop a Wilson you wish to put.
As for American football
boring from the sideline I find
it's more talk less action
namby-pamby as opposed to rugby
which is wilder less calmer
and without all the body armour
now there's a game with some traction.
America's pastime baseball
is another matter
whether pitcher or batter
with Rawlings or Slugger
when on the mound I have found
unlike soccer or rugger
before a ball the hurler throws
and the pitch is hit or caught with a mitt
first rearrange the private parts in public
twitch the cap and then spit.
A People Power Champion
that how they speak when
most people say his name.
Stormester Amir born in
Mobius Grander(Parts Unknow) once
blacklisted and removed
from active competition made a
world renowned return
" Amazing Impossible Possibility"
a promoter named his intent to be
Champion.
Due to his inability to get involved
because of his blacklisting
he marveled around and was thought
to be "Masked Wrestler" and
"Slugger Caul"
Both found to be not him
when both men were
challenged to be in the same
arena and were both unmasked
by "Large" Gussy Steeper.
Arco Danzon and Bolero Clave Dinger
were found to be the Masked grapplers
but due to there ages some spoke of a
wrestlers conspirasy: most ragsheets reported
the guys being both in there early twenties
but the they beleived was
the Masked WrestlerII had wrestled
Masked for more then ten years prior to
this unmasking. This made the return
of the superstar a specail event.
dad could roll a cigarette
with just two fingers
and the tip of his tongue
i saw him do this once
in a wind storm
he would shave just close enough
to keep himself grizzled
he could dive into an engine
to wrench a rattle
and make it purr
he was an expert drinker
astounding all-comers
so
ever since
he took a Louisville Slugger
to moms head
the three of us
ma
he
and me
were all astounded
Harley Quinn,
Harlequin.
Evil twin.
Don't cross her.
You won't again.
She uses a Slugger.
Louisville bat.
The Joker dumped her.
A very Mad act.
Ms. Quin's not chagrin.
She runs a Rhino.
A big Sixty D.S.
Was in on that deal.
To end the Enchantress.
She's been there and back.
No pretense yet a fact.
Harlequin is a genius.
She'll easily escape prison.
It Seem's as Ms. Quinn
Sees with split vision.
The first three boring innings ended scoreless.
Then, in the fourth I took a walk to first.
She was managing her business in the dugout.
I was ready when a double’s gusher burst.
I beat the throw to home and scored an easy run.
She liked the way I took the bases fast.
When she called me her penultimate slugger,
I’d no idea that meant the next to last.
Although my stats were solid and consistent,
I wasn’t the right cog for her machine.
I was traded for the sake of sabermetrics,
In the wake of her affair with Billy Beane.
The mighty slugger saunted to the plate
The sun dipped in the sky, 'twas getting late
First he swung and he missed
But the next pitch he 'kissed'
Out of the park ~ onto the Interstate
W. R. Potter
Brother from another mother
Fellow baseball bat slugger
Could outhit me
Could outspit me
Could outwit me
Could outdrink me
Couldn't outlive me
A large round blue ball.
A plastic bat, faded beyond belief.
An enthusiastic four-year-old grandson.
“Grandma, I am in position,” he says. “Throw the ball.”
Bam. It hits me on the top of the head, delighting him.
“You are a natural slugger, “I tell him.
We repeat these steps about three hundred times.
“Five more minutes,” I say.
“Ten more,” he answers.
He was exhausted in about eight.
“You are throwing it wrong!” he told me haughtily.
Confidence! Nothing like it.
We'd leave just after breakfast
Play hard all day
There were no cell phones or play dates
We would gather up our friends
take off down the monkey trail
running wild in the thistle fields
chased fly balls on the baseball diamond
collected pop bottles for a nickel a piece
lunch was gulps of warm hose water
a palm filled with stolen plums.
Then off to the train trestle
slinging rocks at muddy beer bottles
flattening pennies on the rails
there were no clocks to tug at our tails.
Dusk was the cue for us to move things along
5-speed banana bikes slicing the monkey trail in the half-light.
Mad little monkeys and scratching the back of our minds
The trail ogres and perverts never dare touch us.
We had the numbers and were armed with Louisville slugger bats.
We were trail-toughened little bucks
the warm hose water didn't kill us.
We were grimy little dust devils
on a lightning streak of good luck.
RICKEY HENDERSON
IS ELITE
HE DID IT ALL
ON HIS OWN TWO FEET
RICKEY'S WELL KNOWN
FOR STOLEN BASES
LEAD OFF HOMERS
AGAINST THE ACES
SILVER SLUGGER
GOLDEN GLOVE
A TALENTED ATHLETE
AND CUT ABOVE
HE HOLDS THE RECORD
FOR STOLEN BASES
ACCOMPLISHED THIS FEAT
BY VISITING PLACES
3,000 HITS
AMONG NINE DIFFERENT TEAMS
TIME RUNS PAST
OR SO IT SEEMS
RICKEY'S THE BEST
THAT'S WHAT RICKEY WOULD SAY
AS LONG AS HE DOESN'T
HAVE TO FACE RYAN TODAY
ON SECOND THOUGHT
RICKEY LOVES THE THRILL
IF HE STRIKES RICKEY OUT
RICKEY LIVES UP TO THE BILL
AUGUST, 89
ON THE 22ND DAY
RICKEY BECAME RYAN'S
5,000TH K
TO QUOTE THE ALL STAR
AND SERIES MVP
"HE GAVE ME NO CHANCE"
"HE JUST BLEW IT BY ME"
the pitched ball
of its many proponents we have signed almost all
but nary a slugger
imbalance has struck, it's likely too late, so bugger.
the pitched ball
of its many proponents we have signed almost all
but hardly a single slugger
imbalance has struck, it's likely too late, so bugger.
The Park Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Somewhere between a toddler and a teen,
I carried visions of my future days.
It was just us, my sweetest friend Christine,
at our neighborhood park we loved to play.
Wiffle ball, pizza boxes as bases,
mother made the home plate using rubber.
Used chalk as a starting line in races,
Christine struggled, while I was a slugger.
Walking Coco without using a leash,
such a time of innocence not peril.
No danger jumping in the piles of leaves,
playing past sundown spinning the windmill.
I dreamed of showing my children the park,
But commercial real estate broke my heart.
Date Written: February 15, 2016
Poetry Form: Shakespearean Sonnet
Babe Ruth
To tell the truth
Was as good a hugger
As a slugger
A HOMERUN
Golden gloves catch.
Louisville slugger hits the ball.
A homerun made.
He shouts home sweet home was my aim.
The clouds were clear.
The crowd shouted from the stands.
This was their hometown and the homerun was made by their player.
The American pastime was invigorating.
Another Babe Ruth in the mist.
He is hitting a hundred this year.
Home sweet home he aims.
The ball is out the park once again.
_________________________________
Penned January 25, 2015!
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.