The Baseball Sonnet
by Estrid Balslev
.
I felt: A bee was swarming in my bonnet!
A voice said, “You’re a bard, so you must write
A real poem, full of spunk and bite.
In other words, you have to write a sonnet.”
“And what about?” I asked the eerie voice.
“On baseball,” was his firm and clear reply.
“Excuse me that I have to ask you why,”
I answered, but he said I had no choice.
“Of baseball I know less than does my cat,”
I said to him. “Come, let us have a chat
On other things that I might write about.”
He told me I had better close my snout
And just get going. Curse him! All the same,
I’m sure that baseball is a splendid game.
.
Estrid Balslev is a poet and performance artist from Denmark.
Posted 6/10/2010
To-Do List
By Ember Nickel
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There’s more than clocks that must be cleaned in spring:
Some clocks were cleaned, but we don’t need them here.
There’s new faces to meet, all who will bring
Something different to their team for this year.
.
So say hello to Halladay. Don’t say
That Placido need be placid, though. Greet
Greenhorns around the leagues. Proudly call “hey”
To Justin Heyward and each star you meet.
.
Try your best to keep up with Garrett Jones.
Welcome back Marcum. Spring’s glories fade fast
So soak it all in before it all drones
Into no more than murmurs of the past.
.
Learn more of phenoms that you may have heard
Just briefly of. Say hi. Welcome a Byrd.
.
Posted 4/21/2010
“And He LINES to Third for the Second Out of the Inning!”
by Todd Herges
Harry Caray, a cup ‘o Bud and thou:
A day-game audience tuned to Channel 9.
With Stone up in the booth to keep it sane,
Up to the plate steps Galarraga now.
The bums in left all crowd around The Man,
Girls topped in bikinis fight to kiss his cheek.
Harry would like to do this every week
But risks abound: beer vendors in the stands.
(He can’t quite hold it like he did in youth.)
Late in the game, while drinking his last pitcher -
Though bleacher visits each time thrill the crowd -
Steve must correct his mis-call from the booth:
“Um, Harry, that was thrown from the catcher.
The Big Cat, Galarraga, just struck out.”
.
Posted 6/15/2009
Canvas of a Season
By Ember Nickel
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The first bright streaks are quiet now. Above
The brash background, the paintbrush sinks into
The paint. This is just the beginning of
The season. Time for layer number two.
It won’t look like this when the year is done.
Most paint will cover over what’s below.
The topmost layer will display who won,
And only what shines through will let us know
What else took place. X-rays might let us see
Archives and dry box scores. But from a glance
The peaks and valleys will be brightest. We
Might forget what’s partly just random chance
As it’s overpainted. But that is how
All seasons go. We’ll enjoy the streaks now.
.
A former contributor to Baseball Toaster, Ember’s blog is Lipogram! Scorecard!.
Posted 5/7/09
Kissing HER on the Strikes
By Todd Herges
With apologies to Dizzy Dean.
Spring Break is time for training to play ball
For players and a college couple, too.
But not on sun-drenched South Padre Isle,
And not in Havasu or cheap Cancun:
This boy and girl chose Cactus League for fun.
It could’ve been Vallarta for few pesos.
Instead, like pitcher’s wife and baby son,
They sit on metal bleachers swapping besos.
The sun shines down, the pitchers look for signs.
The umps yell “Foul!” when balls cross outside lines.
The batboys all learn what there is to know.
The shortstops practice how to cut a throw.
While players wait for cut lists, pace the halls,
One schoolboy hopes she’ll kiss HIM.
Posted 3/9/09.
