King Of Baseball
As one of the best players ever lived
He is still one of the best icons standing
To him a bat was like a matchstick
Fusing the ball up in the sky burning
Back down like a burning asteroid
6'2" giant waiting to hit the ball
Before the crowd could blink he
Was already putting foot on the
Fourth base he played every game like
A training session but won every one of his games
With full passion living the other teams in concussion noting their heads like bubble heads
while he enjoyed and waved freely like a
Loose thread
Talking behind base ball truth all about Babe Ruth
poem by Atlay Mwenifumbo
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Being odd
They all exalt in normal
they do not like the weird,
they slander anybody
who's slightly out of gear.
They all berate the odd ball
that stands out from the crowd.
You've seen odd balls at parties
hung loose, all odd and loud.
The odd ball talks excitedly
about his odd ball ways
The things that other people fear
or find a trifle strange.
They say that he's not normal,
they snigger and they grin
but he'd rather be an odd ball
than normal, just like them.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Letting it all hang out!
They all exalt in normal
they do not like the weird,
they slander anybody
who's slightly out of gear.
They all berate the odd ball
that stands out from the crowd.
You've seen odd balls at parties
hung loose, all odd and loud.
The odd ball talks excitedly
about his odd ball ways
The things that other people fear
or find a trifle strange.
They say that he's not normal,
they snigger and they grin
but he'd rather be an odd ball
than normal, just like them.
poem by Ruth Walters
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At The Minor's Field
The Li'l Leaguer's now in uniforms,
And the ball game is ‘bout to begin.
My young hero in position one,
For the Orioles against the Indians;
Kevin stepped on the pitcher's plate,
"Go! Orioles, " the parents cheered.
"Batter's in, " the umpire yelled,
He pitched, the ball went wild.
"Ball, " the umpire called. Again,
He pitched to the batter's shin.
Hit by pitch, the batter walks on base,
Still at first when the catcher missed.
"Ball, " 2 and 0, the umpire signed,
And some parents began to whine.
Bases are loaded but all walks,
And their slugger is up to bat.
Pitch by pitch, she tried to hit,
A foul, a tip, the third, she missed.
With one out on the score board,
The outfielders are getting bored.
The next batter, my neighbor's son,
He tried the same as hard as he can,
Swing after swing, he lost his chance;
The ball was caught, two out at once.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Faded Photographs
Some pictures hang upon my wall
Of baseball players from the past-
Gionfriddo’s catch of DiMaggio’s ball-
Lou Gehrig standing at the mike-
Babe Ruth pitching in the Bronx-
And the one place that links them all.
They happened at the lumberyard
The place on River Avenue
The place where Bombers came to play
Now sad, diminished, and by Fall-
a victim of the wrecking ball.
One other theme is intertwined
Within the pictures on my wall
Each enshrines the final time
These men enjoyed a curtain call..
Babe was pitching his last time
The season ender (33’)
He never pitched another game
A complete game shutout
Against the Sox.
Gehrig speaking at the mike
A hot July 4th holiday
At home plate for the final time
He stood on the unaccustomed side
Gionfriddo’s speed won the game
By making his miraculous catch
But next day he sat on the bench
And never played a game again
How bittersweet these moments are
for a scrub or a superstar
To know, at last, you’ve reached the end
To still have done the best you can.
Their time has passed, these men have died
And now their park has seen its day
I’ve only photographs to show
Perfection never fades away.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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My soccer team
I see men standing next to each other
in a line
and they wear yellow and green.
The national anthem plays
and its like nobody honours it
or know the words,
but maybe they are caught by the great moment.
The whistle blows
and the ball is kicked to and fro
and there are men attacking
and others that defend.
The goal is open
and the ball flies past in a wide arc
and it’s as if my team
can’t score any goal.
The opponents have the ball
and shoot it right over the field
and one of their front players
hits it with his head.
The ball flies twisting
and with a swing in the air
and is accurately aimed at the goal
As from the ground
the goalie rises
and the onlookers are silent
and just before it’s too late,
the ball is caught
and the crowd cheers.
It is as if something sweeps into
the men with yellow and green
and they play perfectly,
like only a good team can.
There’s passion to win
and the ball is passed
from player to player
and a mighty kick,
launches it accurately past the goalkeeper
to get entangled in the net.
The crowd cheers and go nuts
and vuvezelas are blowing
and flags are swept to and thro
and the players grab each other.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I don’t know if God plays ball
I don’t know if God plays ball
soccer or foosball or bacci ball.
Well, I’m a Frenchman and
boules is the name of my game.
Being on the ball is like playing
with Gigi little girls. When God
created Eve I wonder did He
have in mind dirty old men
and did He mean putting man
behind the eight ball
and did He know that eons later
round the corner of the square ball
someone hooks up with
a hooded guy who sells 3.5 grams
of meth and coke and damn,
that 8 ball is already gone!
I wish I had another!
I start singin’ a tune, I don't drink
brass monkey, like to be funky
and my name ain’t Eazy-E
your 8 ball junkie.
We did an eight ball of blow and
danced until next morning.
I ain’t never goin’ out
With an eight-ball Chiquita
Cuz I got balls and I ain’t
givin’ her mine and
she ain’t playin’ with mine.
I wish God had more balls
and my brain marinate
in mothballs.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Aug©2010
AD Something
poem by Alex Nodopaka
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One Meat Ball
(l. singer-h.zaret)
The little man walked up and down
To find an eating place in town
He read the menu through and through
To see what fifteen cents could do
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
He told the waiter near at hand
A simple dinner he had planned
The guests were startled one and all to hear
That waiter loudly call
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, this here gent wants one meat ball
Little man felt very bad
One meat ball was all he had
And in his dreams he hears that call
Ya gets no bread with one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, you get no bread with one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
All he could afford was one meat ball
One meat ball
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Ball
At home
my dog and child
play the foot ball
Dog kick the ball
Clild also kick
Ball was...
Run to run...
Suddnley dog
Bite the ball
The ball was blast...
Chil was cry
Dog was wow...wow...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Definitions As An Intention To Describe
Definitions as an intention to describe,
Can be so confining to the mind.
Case in point...
Having to 'some' a meaning.
But...
To those probing their observations,
Making little sense to make sensible...
A reason to find a rhyme.
I remember when I heard the term,
'Baseball' used.
And when I went to my first game,
I was not overwhelmed with excitement.
I couldn't get the 'bat' out of my head.
'Why isn't this game called 'Batball'...
Instead of baseball? '
I kept thinking of that.
Without the bat,
There wouldn't be any baseball played.
Unlike basket...ball.
I can understand that.
Foot...ball,
Okay...
I'm sold.
Base...ball?
And all that the bases do,
Is just lay there?
Home...plate?
That's not a home...base?
And the hitting of a 'homerun'...
That's out of the field of play?
Whoever created this game,
Is a genius.
The terms used as they are applied,
Makes absolutely no sense.
I can understand,
Why it's one of the most favorite sports.
Like golf!
When a player hits that ball,
That might endanger onlookers...
A shouting of 'fore' is heard.
Fore...what?
If one is hit...
Be-fore the word is heard,
That's it.
And even after 'fore'...
What difference does it make?
The other day...
I watched a player of 'baseball' lose his bat.
It went flying into the stadium...
To hit someone in the head.
No one warned the 'victim' at all.
No one shouted...
'Watch 'that'.
It's a flying bat.'
Hmmm...
Flying bats?
At a baseball game?
Where the selling of hot...dogs,
And pea...nuts with beer...
Is a tradition.
And someone wishes to keep the writing of poetry,
To restrictions?
By whose definition?
And when does prose not become poetry?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Beautiful Game
As you step on to the muddy field,
You feel the joy rise inside you,
The crowd roars as the players take up there positions;
And your team gets ready to kick off.
As the game commence all nervousness is lost,
Replaced by a sudden adrenaline rush,
The play goes back and forth, forth and back;
But you run on still,
nothing else concerns you but the ball.
It goes on as such for many minutes,
Until your rivals get a chance,
Your goalie tries but to your despair the ball finds the back of the net;
The crowd boos in anger and frustration.
The very next play the ball comes to you,
You run up the wing blasting by defender after defender,
You see an opening in the keeper’s defences;
You wind up to shoot and…
TWEET! You’re tackled by a defender,
Penalty shot declares the ref,
To the opposition’s protest.
You place the ball on the penalty spot,
And the once roaring crowd goes silent,
Thousands of eyes are upon you unspeaking and unforgiving,
As you wind up to shoot all time seems to stop;
And Suddenly time resumes to the roar of the crowd
And your teammates swarming around you,
At this moment you think to yourself,
Soccer, the beautiful game.
poem by Joseph Conlan
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Sounds From The Baseball Field
Batter in the home place,
That was nobly done;
Try and get the first base-
Run!
Run
! RUN!
Ah, there, short stop, will you miss?
Hear the people cheer and hiss,
Hear them yell and shout.
Twinkling legs and flying feet-
(Oh, I wonder who will beat!)
Faster, faster, out!
Umpire, umpire, go along;
That was wrong, sir, that was wrong.
Pitcher pitches, four balls,
'Take your base, my man.'
Toward the second now he crawls-
'Steal it if you can.'
Oh, the ball has gone so high,
Can they catch it on the fly?
Ah, there is no doubt,
He will get his third, I vow-
Pshaw! the ball has got there now,
'Two men out!'
Umpire, umpire, that was wrong;
Go along, sir, go along.
One man on the first base,
Not a single run.
Boys are warming to the race-
Now look out for fun.
Pitcher's arm maybe is tired;
Batter sudden seems inspired,
Grounds the ball to win.
Run there, run there, run your best,
I am screaming with the rest
'Two men in!'
Umpire, umpire, go away;
Dead wrong, dead wrong, sir, I say.
What's the matter now, pray?
Taking breath, that's all;
But the restless people say
'Play ball, play ball.'
One ball, two strikes, two balls-'Foul.'
Umpire calls, and people howl:
'What is he about?'
Run, run, run, run, Run,
Run
, RUN!
Half the inning now is done,
'Three men out!'
Umpire, umpire, go along;
You are always, always wrong.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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My Very First Football Match
Holding my Fathers hand
walking to the ground
crowds of Football fans
making lots of sound.
Standing on the terraces
players warming up
maybe a League game
or even the F.A.Cup.
Dad said I just stared
but that I enjoyed it all
and when I got back home
went straight out with my ball.
And when I too became a Dad
I went and did exactly the same
taking both my young sons
to nearly every home game.
So if your looking down Dad
and you spot me in the crowd
you'll see I've carried on the tradition
and I hope it makes you proud.
poem by Kevin Halls
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God Works in Circle
a ball lover
is our god
a soccer player
he is
the whole universe
his field
the planets,
the stars,
our earth
all shuttling
through space
like balls
shove from
one corner
to the other
our heads,
our eyes,
the balls
that the gods
give us
to play
all
the games
in his world
the moon
in its
lunar journey
round and round
good and bad
too come
in a circle
what goes around
comes around
kindness begets kindness
do bad and
it comes back
in a circle
cos our god
is a lover of
a ball game
start walking anywhere
in the universe
and you get back
to your own place
cos our god
loves the circle game
the circle game
the circle game
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Kick Off Ball
Kick off ball,
Kick the ball to win the game!
But, with fair play.
Player,
Lyricist,
Arranger,
Keeper,
Composer,
Winner! !
But it was only yesterday that i found you;
And like the game ball in the land of your muse.
Face to face,
Again and again!
But pay and take it;
And, play the match to win the game! !
Play the ball,
Kick the ball,
And like the African Cup of Nations!
Race, ace, face, brace, mace, place, lace;
But words are things upon a thought,
And like something long lost! !
However, play the ball into the net to win the game.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Ball & Chain
I've been on this roller coaster just too many times
And always it seems like
The blind keep on leading the blind
Tried to get them on the 'phone
Tried to find my way back home
Tned and failed, and tried and failed, again
But baby i don't want you 'cos you look so good
I don't want you 'cos i know i should
I don't want you to come in f rom the rain
I want you to be my ball and chain
I want you to be my ball and chain
Ah just lately i've been roaming from town to town
I've been setting them up, setting them up
And i've been knocking them down
I was born to live, it seems, a fugitive dream
Make things always better than they seem
And i stop and start, and stop and start
And stop and start again
Baby i don't want you for your money
I don't want you 'cos i love you honey
I don't want you to ease this memory pain
No, i want you to be my ball and chain
Yes, i want you to be my, be my ball and chain
When i see you in the garden once again
Baby you'll be standing in the summer rain
Laugh and cry and say what it's all about
You can even jump and shout
And you'll smile and say how are you again
I don't want you 'cos i'm so blue
I don't want you 'cos you know what to do
I don't want you because all my love seems in vain
I want you to be my ball and chain
I want you to be my ball and chain
I want you to be my ball and chain
I want you to be my ball and chain
Oh, be my ball and chain
Be my ball and chain, be my ball and chain
Oh, be my ball and chain
I want you.....ball and chain, etc.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Analysis Of Baseball
It’s about
the ball,
the bat,
and the mitt.
Ball hits
bat, or it
hits mitt.
Bat doesn’t
hit ball, bat
meets it.
Ball bounces
off bat, flies
air, or thuds
ground (dud)
or it
fits mitt.
Bat waits
for ball
to mate.
Ball hates
to take bat’s
bait. Ball
flirts, bat’s
late, don’t
keep the date.
Ball goes in
(thwack) to mitt,
and goes out
(thwack) back
to mitt.
Ball fits
mitt, but
not all
the time.
Sometimes
ball gets hit
(pow) when bat
meets it,
and sails
to a place
where mitt
has to quit
in disgrace.
That’s about
the bases
loaded,
about 40,000
fans exploded.
It’s about
the ball,
the bat,
the mitt,
the bases
and the fans.
It’s done
on a diamond,
and for fun.
It’s about
home, and it’s
about run.
poem by May Swenson
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The Ball
What it ain't y'all?
Welcome 2 the Crystal Ball
Got any notion about the way things are? Give 'em up!
Come on y'all
(Ball) {repeats in BG}
Ooh wee! (Party!)
(Get up, come on)
All pound on the 2 y'all
Shake the weakest peach (Get off and party y'all)
If U got a weak heart, split now
We got 2 be funky
Everybody, say it
This is your Crystal Ball (Get up and party) (Yeah)
One time, say it (Ball)
(Come on, get up and get down, yeah)
Check it out if U want 2
Listen 2 a brand new sound
Peachy beat and harmony
Shake your body down
No time 4 attitudes
No, we don't wanna fight
All I wanna do is get yo' peachy stuff
And have some fun 2night ... people!
(Ball) {repeats in BG}
Ouch! (Come on) Come on, Ball
(Party) (Come on) Yeah
(Get down) Come on, come on, yeah (Ball)
Jam in the 3 y'all
Ain't no couples allowed
Unless U wanna do it right mama
And get married like a bull and cow
No time 4 attitudes (No time)
I said we don't wanna fight
All I wanna do is get pumped mama
And have some fun 2night ... people!
Ball, it's a party
Everybody get loose
Ball, shake your body
Just like a goose... goosey
(Ball) (Ball) Everybody
(Ball) (Ball) Ooh aah
Oooh wee!
Say it y'all, come on (Oooh wee!)
(Yeah, come on, get up)
(Join the party, get up, get up, yeah)
What it ain't y'all?
Welcome 2 the Crystal Ball
U got any notions about the way things are?
Give'em up and come on y'all... oh!
Any peaches in the house?
Sing with me y'all, come on
Whoa!
2 funky, say it again
Whoa!
Yeah ooh
Woo!
This is your Crystal Ball
All 4 fun, fun 4 all
Ow! Ow!
Crystal Ball
Alright, everybody on the one y'all
I want U 2 say "Ball"
(Ball) {repeat in BG}
Say it like U mean it, come on, say it
Woo, yeah
Say it y'all, come on
Baby?
Baby, do U wanna? Yes
This is your Crystal Ball
All 4 fun and fun 4 all, woo!
Keep singing y'all {x2}
Come on
What U wanna do? {x2}
Woo! Yes
Oh! Don't try and stop me!
Hit me girl!
Welcome 2 the Crystal Ball!
{crowd noise segues into "Joy In Repetition
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ball Chain
Ive been on this roller coaster just too many times
And always it seems like
The blind keep on leading the blind
Tried to get them on the phone
Tried to find my way back home
Tned and failed, and tried and failed, again
But baby I dont want you cos you look so good
I dont want you cos I know I should
I dont want you to come in f rom the rain
I want you to be my ball and chain
I want you to be my ball and chain
Ah just lately Ive been roaming from town to town
Ive been setting them up, setting them up
And Ive been knocking them down
I was born to live, it seems, a fugitive dream
Make things always better than they seem
And I stop and start, and stop and start
And stop and start again
Baby I dont want you for your money
I dont want you cos I love you honey
I dont want you to ease this memory pain
No, I want you to be my ball and chain
Yes, I want you to be my, be my ball and chain
When I see you in the garden once again
Baby youll be standing in the summer rain
Laugh and cry and say what its all about
You can even jump and shout
And youll smile and say how are you again
I dont want you cos Im so blue
I dont want you cos you know what to do
I dont want you because all my love seems in vain
I want you to be my ball and chain
I want you to be my ball and chain
I want you to be my ball and chain
I want you to be my ball and chain
Oh, be my ball and chain
Be my ball and chain, be my ball and chain
Oh, be my ball and chain
I want you.....ball and chain, etc.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Games Being Played Today
The games being played today,
Are are old as those used...
By the kid who refuses,
Others to play ball in the schoolyard.
IF he doesn't get his way.
And as those stand by to watch one confident,
And prepared to hit homeruns...
The one who has let others use his equipment,
Will take all of it away and threaten to run...
To ensure even his own team will be defeated.
If his way isn't eventually pleased.
'What are you doing?
Are you nuts? '
~That's my ball and that's my bat.
And if you all had realized that...
I'd be the one to be the focus of your praise.~
'But why should we all suffer,
Because you want 'him' seen the one defeated?
We all came out here to play ball...together.'
~But does he have to brag about what he can do? ~
'We all have done that.
And you have done that before too!
But the others kids who are here to see us play,
Could care less who equipment is used.
To delay or stop the game we came to play.'
~But I am the one who wants to be seen as the winner.
Not him.~
'Your misdeed is perceived as unfortunate.
Since your actions have left no one interested.'
~I don't care.
You all hate me because my family is rich.
Well...
We did pay our taxes!
And I know it.~
'What?
What on Earth are your talking about, Skip? '
~I know what's been said behind my back.
I'm not the one here who is stupid.~
'Prove it.'
~What is the reality of 'our' relationship? ~
'Skip...
You are making absolutely no sense.'
~Prove it.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Made Okay To Do It Your Way
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.
You complained,
That you couldn't take the weight.
And a waiting too late makes it okay.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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