A Long Season

by Doug Fahrendorff

In first place
Since April 9th
Can Milwaukee continue
To stun the skeptics
Or will the Brewers
And their fans
Find the season lasts
Two months
Too long


Published in Milwaukee Brewers | Link to this poem | 1 Comment

Springertime in Houston

By Stuart Shea

This George Springer–
A real humdinger,
From-the-heels swinger,
Highlight bringer,
Bad-pitch stinger,
But for all we know
He’s not much of a singer.


Published in Houston Astros, Players, Pure doggerel, Stu Shea, Youth | Link to this poem | No Comments

Dream Come True

By R.J. Lesch

With two men out, Glen Perkins turned to look
toward the third base stands, and then he smiled.
The local boy, as in a storybook,
or sandlot fantasies of any child,
could hear the Minnesota crowd. And they
were chanting out his name, their joy undamped
as he closed out the All Star Game. They say
the Nordic folk don’t often get so amped.
And closers should be ice and stone, you see.
But out there on the diamond, who could blame
A boy who once hit baseballs off a tee
For grinning big and wide? But all the same,
the closer and the catcher, not done yet,
went back to work, with one more out to get.


Published in Minnesota Twins, Sonnets | Link to this poem | No Comments

Deep Thoughts (Inner Monologue of a Gopherball)

by Michael X. Ferraro

Giancarlo, when I approached,
Via soft-serve toss of a coach
I foolishly said, “Let’s be friends!”
But instead I now have the bends.

As I rocket o’er Target Field,
McCutcheon gasps and Gordon squealed.
My path now is parabolic
Forget ‘roids– are you bionic?

Mr. Stanton, I hold no grudge.
I’m a baseball, not a judge.
The fans swoon like they’ve seen Kirby
as I leave this Home Run Derby.


Published in Florida Marlins, History, Players, Pure doggerel, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | No Comments

All-Star Clerihews #3

By Hugh Encrye

Adam Wainwright
Played the “unwritten rules” right,
Grooved the Captain a pitch to hit,
Then found himself in a world of trouble.

Miguel Cabrera
The greatest hitter of our era.
Pitch the pill behind his back
And still he’ll give that ball a whack.

Mike Trout
Didn’t hit one out,
But a double and a triple
Ain’t kibble.


Published in Ballparks, Detroit Tigers, Fans, History, James Finn Garner, Los Angeles Angels, New York Yankees, Players, Pure doggerel, St. Louis Cardinals, Uncategorized | Link to this poem | No Comments

Deep Thoughts (Inner Monologue of a Gopherball)

All-Star Clerihews #3

Mockery on Hold for Now

All-Star Clerihews #2

AL East

NL East

Extra Innings

AL Central

NL Central

Poems by Type

AL West

NL West

Heavy Hitters

Copyright 2007 Bardball.