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Backstop in Bloom

by Jim Siergey

It’s Spring!
Flowers
is blooming
Tyler’s hitting full tilt.
But, Dang!
The hours
are looming
we know Flowers will wilt.

 

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The Game Without A Clock

by Stephen Jones

Critics of baseball always complain:
“Speed it up.  The game’s too slow. ”
Look elsewhere, they often chime,
For proof.  But to a clock-driven show?

Baseball is not the NFL,
Where starts and stops rush pellmell.

Baseball is not the NHL,
Where fights and goals are the sell.

Baseball is not the NBA,
Where endless timeouts hold the day.

Maybe more common sense could be used,
Maybe more strikes should be called . . .
These are arguments on which fans linger
Long after the day’s game is over.

Baseball, a game of numbers, is in play
In a stadium beyond time’s sway.

 

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The Origin of Baseball

by Kenneth Patchen

Someone had been walking in and out
Of the world without coming
To much decision about anything.
The sun seemed too hot most of the time.
There weren’t enough birds around
And the hills had a silly look
When he got on top of one.
The girls in heaven, however, thought
Nothing of asking to see his watch
Like you would want someone to tell
A joke–“Time,” they’d say, “what’s
That mean–time?”, laughing with the edges
Of their white mouths, like a flutter of paper
In a madhouse. And he’d stumble over
General Sherman or Elizabeth B.
Browning, muttering, “Can’t you keep
Your big wings out of the aisle?” But down
Again, there’d be millions of people without
Enough to eat and men with guns just
Standing there shooting each other.

So he wanted to throw something
And he picked up a baseball.

 

From City Lights Pocket Poets Anthology, edited by Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Copyright 1995.