Browse all poems and songs in the 'Food' Category


All-Star Clerihews, Part I

Tito Francona
Is a bona
Fide baseball Einstein.
We hope real soon he’ll be feeling fine.

Alex Wood
Pitches so good
He can play in-
Stead of the injured Clayton.

Jonathan Schoop
Is no dope–
For Miami, bought sunscreen
And some Word Search magazines.

Miguel Sano
Bit into a poblano
And let out a roar
Due to a cold sore.

 



Ongoing Failure

By jessicaj

Baseball is a game of failure
I hear people say this daily
Last Friday
I was talking to a guy
About the road to the Final Four
He wants more ESPN
More college hoops
More NHL, NFL, and MLS
At first I’m nodding along
Then I started envisioning
An invisible painting
Hanging before me
A blend of 90% fescue
With freshly raked dirt
Demarcating the infield
Suddenly my mouth waters
I can taste popcorn salt
Smell yeasty beer
Hear drunks arguing
While another batter
Gets punched out
Meanwhile I’m thinking
This isn’t productive
I’m just sitting there
Growing older
Having spent my money
On a long drive and
Expensive parking
But for a few hours
I’ve been transported
Transformed, I’ve escaped
My burdens at work and home
Have accumulated
The ballpark is grimy
Even the new ones
Are gray slabs of concrete
Baseball is a business
Chewing up players
Sucking them dry
A capitalist enterprise
Time is so precious
Why would I waste it
Contemplating the futility
Of a rainy day at the ballpark
When I could be
Getting ahead in life?
But I have a secret:
I know why
The caged batter
Swings

 



Is Baseball Too Slow for Modern Times?

by Stephen Jones

If you breathe analytics
And you eat numeral cryptics…
You will probably say so.

(And don’t forget the younger fanbase.
It wants everything like a race,

Where even a ballpark’s serenity
May get tweaked by “modernity”.)

But if you sit in the stadium,
Where its roar is like an ocean…
Most will definitely say “No”.

(For them, it’s like a small vacation
From the day-to-day vexation;

For them, it’s like a vertical beach,
With dog and beer in easy reach.)

Timeless, baseball’s a contradiction;
That’s a part of its evolution.
It’s a “hurry up” place … to go slow.

 



Elegy in a West Side Ball Park

by Ring Lardner

Published in the Chicago Tribune on April 20, 1916, as a tribute to West Side Grounds on the same day the Chicago Cubs played their first game at Weeghman Field.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight.
Save for the chatter of the laboring folk
Returning to their hovels for the night,
All is still at Taylor, Lincoln, Wood and Polk.
Beneath this aged roof, this grandstand’s shade,
Where peanut shucks lie in a mold’ring heap,
Where show the stains of pop and lemonade,
The Cub bugs used to cheer and groan and weep.

 



Don’t Stop Bee-Lieving

by James Finn Garner

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The Royals lately are a steaming pile,
Batting and pitching quite smelly–
Is this what brought the bees to town?
Or was it the Royal jelly?

 

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Copyright 2007 Bardball.