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Because of the weather, the game was rained out.
Baseball is something many of us can’t do without.
It’s the only sport we get to see throughout the summer.
When the game is postponed, it usually is a bummer.
For a few lucky cities, they can close the roof up top.
When playing indoors, rain will not make the game stop.
However, in most cities, they have to play outside.
When the rain comes down, there is no place to hide.
It doesn’t matter if your seats are in the lower or upper deck.
If the game is called, they will only give you a rain check.
You have to go home if the teams do not play.
Just come back when the game is rescheduled another day.
Rainouts: By Robert Pettit
I chose this poem because it describes rain outs perfectly. It takes
me back to games that I have been in that have gotten rained out.
This poem used rhyme scheme as another poetic device by
rhyming the words at the end of the sentence every other line.
I chose this poem because I do the same thing in the batters box when
I play. This poem uses onomatopoeia by saying the ball “swooshes”
when it goes by third. Simile is also used to compare the ball flying to
the wings of a bird. The mood this poem puts me in is to get right up
and go play baseball.
This poem is good because it tells how Jackie Robinson
changed the game of baseball by breaking the color barrier.
This poem uses rhyme scheme by rhyming every line. I chose
it because I am a big Jackie Robinson fan and love to read
about him. Reading about Jackie Robinson always puts me in
a good mood, like this poem did.
The slits of his eyes hidden in
shadows beneath the bill of his
cap, he watches and waits like a
patient cat to catch what
comes his way.
Crack! and he pounces upon the
ball, his hands flying above the
grass, flinging his prey on its
way across the diamond into a
Shortstop: By Charles Ghigna
I chose this poem because it describes what a shortstop is all
about. It puts me in a mood to go play shortstop. This poem
uses simile by comparing the shortstop to a patient cat.
Assonance is also used when the poem says “crack” of the bat.
This poem makes me think about playing.
The days I miss of the game I love, early
Spring, my Mazeroski glove, my baseball
cards, clothespins, spokes; on Saturdays, I'd
tell my folks that afternoons I must be
gone; I'd race to where the Kelly's
lawn met the endless St Jude's field, where
heavy lumber kids would wield, where
muddy balls were tossed around and mitts
were left upon the ground when innings
changed, so we could share (there weren't
enough for all out there). But we played
those days with all our might til calls to
dinner brought the night (in summer,
though, we might return with bellies full,
more fuel to burn). Baseball then was
everything - you played it, watched it, had
cards to bring down the street to show your
friends, to trade your doubles, though it
depends upon the cards your buddies
had and their condition: good or
bad. Some trades you made, improved your
stack, those yesterdays that won't be
back. My springtime heart's forever full
of the days I miss of the game I love
The Game I Love: By John McCluskey
I chose this poem because it makes me think about the game of
baseball. This was one of my favorite poems because how much it
explains everything there is about baseball. This poem uses rhyme
scheme by rhyming every line. Also, the author uses metaphor to
compare a baseball bat to heavy lumber. The mood this poem puts
me in is as relaxed mood because it makes me think of all the fun
times I have had playing baseball.
OH, WHERE DID IT GO? THAT NICE
FLUID SWING. GONE IN THE
SUMMER IT WAS THERE IN THE
HITTIN' LIKE DIMAGGIO TED AND THE
BABE. MAN, I HIT
EVERYTHING WHATEVER THEY GAVE.
WELL, "0 FOR 30" THAT'S WHERE I AM
NOW. HACKIN' 'N SLASHIN' WAITIN'
MY COACHES AND FRIENDS THEY ALL
SAY THE SAME. KEEP WORKIN', KEEP
SWEATIN' YOU'LL BE BACK IN THE
BUT FASTBALLS AND
CURVEBALLS KNUCKLES AND
CHANGE. THEY ALL SEEM TO
VANISH IT ALL SEEMS SO STRANGE.
OH, WHAT'S IT LIKE TO BE STANDING
ON 1st? WHEN I DO HIT THE
BALL WILL I STILL HAVE THE BURST?
HOURS AND HOURS I'LL SPEND IN THE
CAGE. DOING THE RIGHT
THINGS CONTROLLING THE RAGE.
HE SAID "IT'S NOT EASY" MY FATHER
SAID THAT. "BUT WORK HARD AND
SMILE AND, OH YES, KEEP SWINGING
The Slump: By Chuck Snow
I like this poem because you could not describe a slump in any other way. I
felt this poem was directly related to me. This poem uses assonance by
saying “Hackin N Slashin”. I feel the tone of this poem is comedy. I feel this
because I chuckled while reading it because of how it made a slump sound
like such a comical thing when it is the worst thing ever in baseball.
it is a white ball against
a sky so blue it hurts your eyes
it is thick grass, so perfectly green
day fading into evening
as cheers fade to silence
soft moonlight on an empty park
full of promise with morning light
crack of a bat, the graceful arc
flies over the wall
little white thing, focus of all eyes.
it is breathing hard in soft evening air
running the perfect white line
to reach a base
unending promise, untapped possibility
beyond baseball, beyond a game
it is beauty.
Beyond A Game: By Jewel W.
I chose this because I feel it described the beauty of baseball. Just the
way the author describes baseball just makes you think about it. This
poem has imagery all over it. First it talks about the sky, and how it is so
blue it hurts your eyes. Another example is the soft moonlight shining
on the field. All this just makes me think about baseball.
Poised between going on and back, pulled Both
ways taut like a tightrope-walker, Fingertips
pointing the opposites, Now bouncing tiptoe like
a dropped ball Or a kid skipping rope, come on,
come on, Running a scattering of steps
sidewise, How he teeters, skitters, tingles,
teases, Taunts them, hovers like an ecstatic
bird, He's only flirting, crowd him, crowd
him, Delicate, delicate, delicate, delicate - now!
The Base Stealer: By Robert Francis
I like how this poem makes it seem like you are about to steal a base. Just
makes you think about what goes on right before you steal a base. This
poem uses alliteration by saying “tingles, teases, and taunts them”. Also,
the author uses simile by comparing a base runner to a hovering bird.
Lastly, the author uses alliteration by repeating the word delicate many
I can feel the tension building,
Our team's down by three -
Bases are loaded, it's in the ninth inning,
The batter stands there like a tree.
His steady eyes pierce the man on the mound,
Fierce concentration cuts all of the sound.
He plants his feet, sure of his might,
His grip on the bat, knuckles white.
He takes the first strike, high inside corner,
The second pitch flew - a wicked chin burner.
He could feel the wind but never flinched,
The next curved towards his knees,
They moved not an inch.
A hysterical crowd now wants to see blood -
The noise drowns his brain
Like a powerful flood.
His gut says the pitcher's fast ball will end it,
And when it comes, he'll know where to send it.
His anger whipped the bat around -
A deafening crack, right to the mound.
But it was up and away,
A four run homer that saved the day!
The Batter: By Kenneth Hoffman
I chose this because I was on the edge of my seat when I read it. The
way it describes the situation is great. I couldn’t help but to imagine
the situation and being up at bat in that situation . The tone of this
poem is urgency. The game is on the line and you cant help but feel
nervous for the batter.
The fans in the stands cheered
Sun illuminated the field of play
And the green grass swayed in the wind.
The brown dust settled on my white pants
As the fielders took their stance
The pitcher glared at me, grinding her teeth.
I tapped the aluminum bat against my spikes
And I took my stance.
I shut my mind down and
Concentrated only on the white
Sphere hurtling toward me
I swung my bat in
A perfect arch
There was a reassuring
As bat mated with ball.
A jolt ran up my shoulders
And I stood transfixed
As the ball flew over
The heads of the
The crowd roared as
That perfect ball
The white, picket fence.
Going Home: By Kristin Betzler
I chose this because it describes what goes on while you are in the
box. This poem uses onomatopoeia by saying “thunk” when the ball
hit the bat. The poem also uses imagery by saying how the jolt ran
up his shoulder while he was in the box. This poem just puts it in
perfect words how everyone is before and after the pitch.
Just because I’m a ballplayer
don’t hate me because of my swag
don’t be jealous
still, I know I am better than you
Just because I’m a ballplayer
It doesn’t mean I’m cocky
It doesn’t mean I sit on my butt all day
It doesn’t make me mad when soccer players think they are sweet
Just because I’m a ballplayer
still, I am a great athlete
but not all see the work I put in
Just because I’m a ballplayer – I know I have what it takes
Hitting, throwing, swinging
Bat, hat, shin guards, goals
Running, falling, crying
Baseball is red and white.
It tastes like summer.
It sounds like fans cheering.
And smells like fresh cut grass.
It looks like the most fun thing in the world.
And makes you feel like nothing else matters.
A long baseball game.
Everyone comes to watch.
Winning is no choice.
There was once a man who played baseball.
He was very good and very tall.
But he developed a cold.
He was forced to be sold.
He wrote a book about his fall.