A pitcher that goes oft to the well is broken at last.
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Potters' Clay
Though the pitcher that goes to the sparkling rill
Too oft gets broken at last,
There are scores of others its place to fill
When its earth to the earth is cast ;
Keep that pitcher at home, let it never roam,
But lie like a useless clod,
Yet sooner or later the hour will come
When its chips are thrown to the sod.
Is it wise, then, say, in the waning day,
When the vessel is crack'd and old,
To cherish the battered potter's clay,
As though it were virgin gold ?
Take care of yourself, dull, boorish elf,
Though prudent and safe you seem,
Your pitcher will break on the musty shelf,
And mine by the dazzling stream.
poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whether the pitcher strike the stone or the stone the pitcher, the pitcher suffers.
Whether the pitcher strike the stone, or the stone the pitcher, woe be to the pitcher.
Whether the pitcher strikes the stone, or the stone the pitcher, it is bad for the pitcher.
If the pitcher knocks against a stone, woe to the pitcher; and if the stone knocks against the pitcher, woe to the pitcher.
I'm always amazed when a pitcher becomes angry at a hitter for hitting a home run off him. When I strike out, I don't get angry at the pitcher, I get angry at myself. I would think that if a pitcher threw up a home run ball, he should be angry at himself.
quote by Willie Stargell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every great batter works on the theory that the pitcher is more afraid of him than he is of the pitcher.
The pitcher that goes too often to the well is broken at last.
The pitcher goes so often to the well, that it gets broken at last.
The pitcher goes often to the well and gets broken at last.
The pitcher goes so often to the well that it is broken at last.
And then when I went to stay in '68, I can honestly say that I was not focused on my career and on what it took to be a major league pitcher and to be a starting pitcher.
quote by Nolan Ryan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The pitcher goes so often to the well that it comes home broken at last.
The pitcher doth not go so often to the well, but it comes home broken at last.
No matter how often a pitcher goes to the water, it is broken in the end.
No matter how often a pitcher goes to the water it is broken in the end.
A torn rotator cuff is a cancer for a pitcher and if a pitcher gets a badly torn one, he has to face the facts, it's all over baby.
quote by Don Drysdale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Broken Salt Pitcher
Something happened, one I never forget.
Whether caused by a Demon or an Angel I cannot tell.
‘Cos a moral lesson was taught from a sin so grave.
This farted in my mouth and poured in honey.
Honey I love; fart nobody cherishes.
My siblings and I were playing like normal kids,
In the visitor's chamber after mama left for her trade
Papa never came home easy, for his work;
Itinerant trading; from coast to coast went he.
That fateful day, whether Devil's or God's work I will never know
Bang, bang, bang, the ball I threw went
The direction we could control not.
Set in motion for fate to decide.
With a loud crash, the pitcher hit the floor.
Salt and enamel all mixed together.
Just then papa stepped inside.
Who broke this pitcher? Nobody responded.
Straight to the room he went.
I, conscience pricked did the confession later.
But papa said something else was broken.
With confusion all over my face I said nothing was.
He shook his head bitterly and said there was;
And it was something bigger and greater than a jug.
Trust, he said was broken, ‘cos my confession came
Just a little late after I killed his trust in me.
poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Thirsty Crow
Have you ever heard this story before?
Of a wise and clever thirsty crow?
Well, if you haven't then listen
The famous tale of this hero, now let's begin,
It happened when in a spell of dry weather,
The poor birds could find very little water,
This crow, when he felt thirsty,
Searched for some water desperately,
But in summer, as it was great famine,
Even a dropp of water he couldn't find,
This unfortunate fellow thought that he must,
In despair surely die of thirst,
Then suddenly he spied an old pitcher,
Filled with very little water,
But oh! The pitcher was so high with a narrow neck,
The little water, the poor crow could never get,
He was unlucky, thought the crow,
His beak couldn't reach the water as it was low,
Then suddenly a brilliant idea flashed into his mind,
Around him some pebbles he could find,
He picked some pebbles and threw into the pitcher,
And finally the water raised its level,
This clever fellow then threw more pebbles
Until the water was higher in the pitcher,
Higher enough for his beak to reach the water,
The thirsty crow now took a sip of water,
Then drank more water from the pitcher,
Until he was no more thirsty,
The genius crow then flew away,
To tell the world about his victory!
poem by Sadia Maqsood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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