Browse all poems and songs in the 'Pure doggerel' Category

Playoff Letter to The Yankees

by Stephen Jones

Dear Yankees: You’d better grasp
Your playoff circumstance.

With just a month to play,
It’s time for you to seize the day.

The games you should have won
Now haunt you.  Are you  done?

Wake up offense!  Shake off slumber!
Hello team . . . it’s now September.

Yours truly, and all the rest . . .
But you’d better put out your best.

P.S.: Otherwise, it’s game over -
And a sad end for Derek Jeter.


Full-on Collapse, Rhyming Dictionary Edition, Part 1

by Stu Shea

It’s most un-Athletic
To play so pathetic.
I’m quite empathetic,
But it ain’t copacetic
To lose one’s aesthetic
And become an emetic.
Perhaps a prosthetic
Would cure this pandemic,
Or maybe just someone who can hit a fsckin’ baseball.


Is It Next Year Yet?

by Michael X. Ferraro

Since one hobbled hero punched out the sky
The falls have been dull, or worse yet, just shy.
For 25 years, no Dodger champagne–
The 90s and Aughts both circled the drain.

This once-storied franchise seemed out of sorts,
Under FOX ownership, then… the McCourts.
“O’Malley, where art thou?,” wailed the true Blue,
until, just like Magic, that gang was through.

Now Gonzo is clearing ducks off the pond,
Dee Gordon stole second (while you just yawned).
That Jansen is lights out, Puig’s got a gun
and Kemp, once again, is hitting a ton.

Greinke rings ‘em up, Ryu mows’em down,
and Uribe’s got the best hands in town.
BUT Hanley is gimpy. The bullpen’s thin.
Call a search party, where’s Ethier been?

Can Mattingly manage in the big games,
Or will one more yearbook go up in flames?
The catchers both bat with petrified wood,
Yet Kershaw is crazy, Koufaxy good.

For two point five decades they’ve come up short.
That is the maddening part of this sport.
A bad hop here, or a fluke double there,
can transform confetti into despair.

The stage is now set at Chavez Ravine,
for a typically late Hollywood scene.
Way up in his booth, Vin’s riding catbird
in hopes that the crowd will have the last word.


Michael X. Ferraro’s debut novel, a pro football satire called Circus Catch, will be available on Amazon and elsewhere in October.


Tommy John on the Mound

by Stephen Jones

If it were on New Year’s Day,
It’d be a parade of Shriners;
Instead, it’s big league play
And a procession of pitchers.

This is what I heard on TV
About the numbers “1″ and “3″:

Fully 1/3 – huge any season -
Of pitchers may need an operation.
That’s what actuaries did reason
After watching, so far, this season.

Mind you, future-projection
Is wide open for speculation.
But in truth, elbow wear-and-tear
For pitchers has gone up this year.

That’s just what I heard on TV
About the numbers “1″ and “3″.

Baseball is a game of calculation
And stats rule in the MLB.
Now, so does insurance, inflammation
And season-ending surgery.

“1/3” – it is part of an equation
Of which I would rather not see.


Redbird October

by Steven D. Johnson

I love America
.    I love Fall
.        I love October
.            I love baseball

Now September is here
October is near!
“Let’s Go Cardinals!”
The St. Louis fans cheer

In unwritten October saga
.    who will get the win?
.        Waino, Miller, Wacha,
.            Lackey, and Lance Lynn!

It’s the top of the first and the Cards field with grace
Bourjos in center field to Wong at second base
Then top of the lineup, Matheny will say,
“is Carpenter, Jay, and Matt Holliday”

I love America.  I love Fall.
.     I love St. Louis Cardinals baseball!

Now it’s bottom of the fifth.  Our first baseman is at bat –
last name Adams, first name Matt
With Peralta on deck and Molina in the hole
the Redbirds will surely give it body and soul

In Busch Stadium – baseball heaven
.    “Go Cards!” is our song
.        “Go Waino!”  “Go Wacha!”
.            “Go Yadi!”  “Go Wong!”

Now in the 7th
from the bullpen is sought
Maness or Freeman
Martinez or Motte

The Cards lead by one
and our pitchers get the call
Eighth inning, Neshek
Ninth, Rosenthal!

I love America
.    I love Fall
.        I love October
.            and I love baseball!


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Copyright 2007 Bardball.