Down to the disco giving it the moves
Funky flares Getting down with the grooves
Black Sabbath with their heavy metal sound
Losing control, shaking your head around
On the dancefloor giving it all you have got
Going to festivals smoking pot
Hippy clothes and platform shoes getting drunk on cheap bootleg booze
A drive in your car to a nice quiet place
Hoping tonight you get to third base
They were the days when everything was wild
I must have been great to be a sixties child
they built a ballpark over my bones,
laid asphalt like a priest's last lie—
no headstone, no name,
just beer guts and baseball caps
spilling nacho cheese
where I once bled.
I was twenty-three,
shot twice in the alley behind Leroy’s Bar,
the paper called me
“suspected.”
that was all they needed.
the morgue forgot me,
the state ignored me,
and my mother—
she wept
until the flies outnumbered her prayers.
now they cheer a double play
while I sleep beneath their roars,
rootless and rotted,
a ghost who never swung a bat—
but still waits
for justice
to round third base and come home.
Love bites took me to a new place
tiny teeth marks I can't erase;
Laid back you looked for my entrance,
passing third base, passing third base;
Hungrily you nipped at my soul,
ripped the lace of my camisole;
Whispered on my skin 'Keep control..
stay in your role, stay in your role.
perroquet avenue lips
poems and polaroids
pornitography
hariness
protected by vickies
cleavite libertinism
third base
strobe-lit memories
slang..
perroquet = a delicious, minty French alcoholic drink
avenue = a shade of deeply red lipstick
vickies = victoria's secrets
cleavite = untanned areas usually covered by a bathing suit, and thus pale
third base = come ON, everyone knows
For generations, she has been the envy of nations large and small.
In lively colors, red, white, and blue, Old Glory waved at us all.
Like Miss Liberty, she stands erect, strong, and tall.
She has a giant's heart, but is not too big to fall.
I still pray the short prayer, "God bless America".
But more than ever before, I pray, "God save America".
She became great since her birth, but is now losing the race.
Many are rooting for her as she heads for home from third base.
But she has haters who despise and long for her demise; yet she survives.
Debating, delineating, and discussing are not enough to quell the assault.
If we cease to pray and trust in God, the seasoning will depart from her salt.
Dismissing God will make null and void all the battles that have been fought.
God must always be recognized as The First and The Last, The A and the Z.
Anything less, and we will surely be overcome and conquered by the beast.
042522PS
Try not to get caught in a sooty coal scuttle
Or trying to rip off your local cross-town shuttle,
Be especially careful to remove your shoes
Before getting into your best friend’s canoes.
Never talk out of turn in a dim lecture hall
Or declare your intentions right after a fall,
Nothing is so special as finding a gum wrapper
Or spending an afternoon with a Twenties’ flapper.
Pay extra attention to your barbershop’s rules
Lest you be clipped bald with his rusty tools,
Take notice of the colors on the roulette wheel
Better to take a first-base than a third-base steal.
Last, but not least, remember to remove your hat
Before jumping into a pool all covered in fat,
Should you forget, don’t hang around taking blame
For you may be the first one to go up in a flame!
written August 11, 2021
I do not know my flowers
they were not taught in school
I still know my “goesintas”
and the “I” before “E” rule.
I kinda liked the dandelions
that grew behind third base
but they were nothing fancy
and grew wild everyplace.
I gave a girl some daisy’s
a young lovers thing to do
and we have stayed together
years counting forty-two.
I still don’t know my flowers
but I’ve learned a bit since then
it isn’t where or why you give “em
the important thing is when.
John G. Lawless
©6/5/2021
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.
// Apologies to all who do not follow the sport of baseball. My team is in the playoffs for the first time since 2006 and I wanted to celebrate the occasion //
fans came
big game
they scream
cheer team
the boys
love noise
gloves wield
on field
defense
makes sense
line drive
great dive!
ground ball
close call
third strike
we like!
three outs
coach pouts
down one
need run
fast guy
hits fly
drops in
legs spin
he'll race…
third base
big slide
throw's wide
"He's safe!"
they chafe
sac fly
to tie!
fans roar
at score
game tied
nerves fried
next up:
the pup
young Matt
swings bat
big one…
home run?
don't scoff -
walk off!
team wins
huge grins
our score
was more
our scamps
are champs!
// big thanks to Panagiota who inspired me to do this, also to Brian Strand who invented this form and Jan and Tom who are fun and brilliant advocates of it //
written 1 Oct 2020
The people’s choice
ain’t always the right footstool fit
Crown a throne sitter
with electric glam fanfare
Light the bright Roman candles
for a cancer stick spitter ...
See the fireworks in the air:
Inter
Continental
Ballistic
Missives
got voter arm drone sent
Cheek chicanery
is puffing pride hellbent
The home plate people say,
they know how to get around third base
The silent majority
whistle kicked a ballot bray:
Said they know how to rule and regulate
Mute mules got a gut promise packet
burst in their purse belly
White powder vows telly
is a politrician mix: Rublecon racket
Dressed to deceive,
they wear the gorgeous mink sable
Eyes often believe
spit paid broadcast signal on cable
Raw mink voltage
is copper wire insular selectable
Red carpet dotage
give Venus fly idol cries
to the froggy princes they chose
If the cold iron velvet glove
fits tight rightly on the bow hand
Send the poison arrow love
into bent hearts prone to knelling
Baseball and beer and a beautiful woman
Baseball and beer
and a beautiful woman
Tonight, such a
wonderful date
Two teams are playing,
while one love we're sharing,
who cares who is up
at the plate
Her team gets a hit
and I can't help but smile,
seeing the look
on her face
The batter starts running,
he hopes for a single
while I begin rounding
first base
Holding her tight,
as we kiss between pitches,
keeping an eye
on the score
I slide into second,
my heart quickly beating
here with the one
I adore
"Stee-rike, you're out!"
I can hear the ump yelling,
the shortstop just went
down in three
I pull her in close
all the while I am thinking,
I'm glad he's not
yelling at me
Now to third base,
oh her skin soft and tender,
the infield, the lights
up above
I can see home,
as I lead off a little,
then dart in a sprint
to her love
Crossing home plate
is a magical feeling,
breathless the two
of us cheer
A beautiful woman,
an evening of baseball,
and let's not forget
about beer
** Note: The Astros won the game**
For the National Pastime poetry contest
Sponsored by: Phillip Garcia
Little lights begin to shine
Tiny heartbeats in the dark
With a glowing hope inside
To shine brighter than the stars
But their possibilities.....
Suddenly come to an end
Echoing in their silent screams
All they could have been
I see a doctor, I see a preacher
A loving nurse...A home school teacher
A little boy rounding third base
That home run smile all over his face
They would change the world we're living in
If only they could be.....
All they could have been
We explain it all away
A thousand reasons for their fall
But they can never be replaced.....
Listen close....and hear the call
'To welcome all the angels
Heaven chose to send....
Let all God's children be
All they could have been
I see a priest...a president
The hands of an artist...a pilot's accent
Mom's joyful tears--graduation day
As her baby girl walks 'cross the stage
Yes, they would change the world we're living in....
If only they could be.....
All they could have been
Just a chance to be....
All they could have been
Protected by copyright
All rights reserved
ITS RESOLUTION TIME, AGAIN?
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
Well it’s resolution time again, the end of the year
I’ll plan ahead and use my willpower, so that I can steer
Away from some habits that are not good for we
I’ll change my mind set, just wait; and you will see
Those bad habits that have burdened me for years
Will be buried in the trash bin, my goals are quite clear
Yes, I’m gonna be a winner, can’t wait for January one
I’ll be a new person, unrecognizable, it’ll be fun
I’ll improve my health and start going to the gym
Stop eating all that junk food aiming to get slim
Smoking, you know, that’s the first thing to go
Daily walks to get my energy and stamina to grow
I’ll put the seat down when done with my chore
Put the cap on the tooth paste, wipe the floor
Stop getting angry when I don’t get my way
No yelling at the kids when they don’t do as I say
Remember your birthday, bring you some flowers
Be nice to my in-laws treat them like scholars
Everyone will be admiring how I’ll handle this chore
I’m rounding third base determined to score
I know it’s a challenge but I have nothing to fear
Cause it’s the same resolutions I had last year
bunt down third base line
runner on third sliding home
close play at the plate
WARNING: The following poem is a figment of the author's imagination and deals with fictional characters.....FAITHFUL MEN! ;)
(THIS IS FOR FUN, MEN, SO DON'T GO AND GET ALL HUFFY AND PUFFY ON ME!)
Fickle, fickle…men are fickle
Get the women in a pickle
Sweet talk, sweet talk…how they tickle
Treat a treasure like a nickle
Chat up, chat up, and then lie
Sugared bites of ego pie
Flirty, flirty….brew a storm
Dissipate just like the norm
Riding, riding on her wave
Naughty, naughty to the grave
Feel up, feel up where he can
Make her think that he's a….MAN
Swagger, swagger, what a sight!
Thinks he carries...."dynamite" ;)
Tries to see how far he'll get
Up to third base is his bet
Fickle fickle, fizzle….POP
Mess with me, I’ll make it drop!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
A repost. My Muse is still on holiday in Greece. Can't write for the life of me....but I miss community. So...here it goes...
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.