Browse all poems and songs in the 'Free Verse' Category


Baseball’s Annual Sellout

by Stephen Jones

Some teams are needy;
Others are bailing out.

It’ll be a feeding frenzy, and
Some team may get a tout.

For those teams who are booming
The trade deadline is looming.

 



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.

 

 



Baseball Off the Field

by Stephen Jones

Sometimes the game’s best catch
Is the one that’s in the stands–

Not the web gem “Wow!” we see
Highlighted on sports TV.

It’s maybe a juggle of beer and . . . snatch,
Making the grab bare hand.

 



Wrigley’s RF Bleachers

by Stephen Jones

The right-field bleacher seats at Wrigley,
A part of stadium renovation, are open
And no longer “under construction”.

Dexter Fowler anointed them,
A solo home-run blessing in the third,
As the Cubs’ won 6-3 over the Reds.

 



Tim Lincecum’s First No-Hitter

by Celeste Johnston

In this lost year . . .

There were moments . . . there was heaven.
One moment of pure bliss, one moment of pure joy.
One moment for which there is truly only one word.

Euphoria . . .

One night in July on the road. Well . . . AT&T South . . .
Time stood still for the beloved, slight one . . .
One affectionately known to the Faithful only by his first name. Timmy . . .
One-hundred and forty-eight pitches to achieve Baseball Immortality.
The wide-eyed one diving full, ensnaring that which would have destroyed the magic.
The slight one captured from behind with love from his catcher, jarring him back to blissful reality:

Iconic Image . . .
No-hitter . . .

First career and 15th franchise for the beloved and beleaguered one.
Brightest spot in a lost year. Teammates overjoyed for the slight one,
Surrounding him. Ever-loved, ever-protected.

Time stood still . . .

Always expected; sweeter now after all that had passed.
Wet from the dousing, stunned happiness smoothed
The all-too frequent worry lines; luminous joy shining through.

Brightest spot in a lost year . . .

 

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Copyright 2007 Bardball.