Browse all poems and songs in the 'Youth' Category


What Vet Should I Get?

by Hart Seely

What vet should I get?
Who doesn’t put me into debt.
A pitcher like A.J. Burnett…
What vet should I get?

A Price would be nice!
I wouldn’t think twice!
I’d certainly bite
If the Price is right.

I could get a Cole Hamels,
For my best Scranton mammals,
Who might be Allan Trammels!
(Plus a carton of Camels.)

I could get a Martin Prado,
For a year’s supply of Play-Doh.
If I got a new Craig Kimbrel,
My bullpen would be downright crim’nal!

I could get Aroldis Chapman,
What would Boston think of THAT, man?
Or I’d settle for Mike Leake,
Though that name has me feeling bleak.

What vet should I get?
And trade a guy we’ll soon forget.
Who won’t become the next George Brett.
What vet should I get?

 

 Hart Seely is head honcho of the indispensable Yankee blog, It Is High, It Is Far, It Is . . . caught. He does not ghostwrite for the estate of Dr. Seuss.



A Challenge for Poets

by Stuart Shea

What the heck rhymes with Kyle Schwarber?

Well, ’60s jazzer Alan Lorber,
And that dancing Greek named Zorber,
And folk singer Steve Forber(t),
And . . .
And . . .

I’m at the bottom of the pail,
And I don’t want him to fail . . .
But his name is odd, I fear,
So he may not have many poems here.

 



Old Name, New Audience

by Stephen Jones

In The Land of the Second Chance,
Remorseful A-Rod did repentance,
Will not be going to Cincinnati.

Few will shed tears about this, most likely,
But truth be told–he served his time.
Reality is: He’s passed his prime.

Now it’s marquee time . . . for Harper, for Trout.
And A-Rod? He’s simply lost his clout.

 

 



…of All That is Seen and Unseen…

By Stuart Shea

Never got to see
Parc Jarry.
Ebbets and the Polo Grounds
Remained unfound.
Forbes Field
To me unrevealed.

But I did run with glee
Through old Comiskey
And Tiger Stadium
Was like a palladium
And Milwaukee County
An endless bounty.

Dank, damp, and rusty,
Outmoded and fusty,
But to me much more fun
Than Wrigley, say, has become.

 



Rookie Debut (Yankees 14, KC 1)

by Stephen Jones

Yesterday, a kid–Slade Heathcott–
Hit his first big league home run.
In the majors for only a week,
He hadn’t even seen his team win.

But the Yankees put their slide on hold
And waxed KC’S Guthrie but good.
Maybe Steinbrenner’s ghost had paid
The Yankee locker room a visit.

Maybe Slade saw the ghost as well,
Maybe he was just glad to be alive,
Because he smacked a ball over centerfield
And called the experience “surreal”.

 

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