New Poems

[glasspoet]

Split Finger

Used to throw the screwball
but pronated hands and elbows
don’t make healthy arms
Fernando Valenzuela found this out
too late

Took a while
to stretch my fingers out but I
enjambed a ball
and held it there for weeks
watching Jen on TSN

Then winter came
I threw it in the gym
for six months straight

So what’s it do?
It fades
like memories of Mathewson
It dies
like a wounded skunk
and leaves an odor at your door

When it’s working
no one hits that thang

2011 by Dwayne Brenna

[glasspoet]

Fastball from my Dad

Back in the '50s, my father
played minor league baseball
with the Philadelphia Phillies.

Bruce B. Pope was a lefty, and he hurt me,
hurt my hand bad when I was almost 11 -
after I blurted out something like, “Dad,
throw me one of your real fastballs, will ya?”

I watched his hesitation and the familiar but slightly
different windup this time; it was more pronounced,
just more dramatic, I thought. Then the pitch –
and my barely seeing it fly into my mitt.
I can still hear the hit, the violent Pop!

I tried hard not to cry when I caught it then dropped it.
I started bawling across the front yard, the palm
of my left hand stinging then throbbing,
the glove left on the ground…

me thinking something broken
and blurry like I will nev-er
question the pow-er
of my fath-er
a-gain.

2010 by George Pope

[glasspoet]

The Steal
Todd Wolbers

Signal from shady dugout to first:
Finger-to-elbow-hat-chin-hat-chin-hat-tip-of-nose-eye—
The eye? The EYE! The indicator!—
Knee-and-point the green light
One extra heartbeat
Sidestep to starting block
Set

Thrower eyes The Look with a toss—
Slide back to bag
Reset

Careful shuffle to toe the edge
Lean
Dangling hands with twitching fingers attached
Eyes right then front, left then front.
The discarded hot dog wrapper ballet pauses mid-twirl,
Swiss time ticks and stops
An unfinished breath
Go

Screams scratched out by tearing wind,
Concentration and speed.
Strides catch up
As blockers close in
For the relay
Headfirst hand under
Slide

Tag down dirt sweep
Eyes wait on the dusty scrutiny
Of bloated napoleons.
Safe!

[glasspoet]

A Mile in My Shoes: Joe Jackson

by Don Waldo

I had a uniform that was dirty but a conscience that was clean.
I never laid eyes on a one of them but knew them all by name.
I never spoke to them directly but heard what they were asking.
I told them to go to hell, but they said I was already there.
I asked to sit this one out but was told I would never stand.
I never asked for nothing, but they gave it to me anyways.
I tried to tell them what was going down, but they knew what was up.
I always played to win but somehow managed to lose.
I never learned to read or write, but my signed confession still damns me.
I was owed a living wage, but he’s paying me beyond the grave.
History has called me out, but His is the only call that matters.

[glasspoet]

Who's on First

Coaching Little League was Dad’s greatest joy
My brother Artie always got a hit
Proud Pop would smile and say, “That’s my boy!”
I would cheer too, but then my brow would knit

It seemed unfair that I could not partake
In a sport that consumed much of Dad’s time
“Put me in, coach, a home run I can make!”
But I felt left out of the national pastime

Times had changed when Artie’s daughters were raised
Annette could pitch and Diane played left field
Their success made Artie feeling amazed
For their sports talent had another yield

College scholarships quickly came their way
It wasn’t their school grades that drew acclaim
Honors came for the way they’d learned to play
Girls finally took their place in the game

Soon our whole clan was playing together
At family parties and on holidays
This summer sport’s played through winter weather
In photos you’ll find me smiling at first base

Carolyn Devonshire

[glasspoet]

Baseball Humor:

Runner at first no outs. Young batter was given the sac bunt sign. He took the next blazing baseball squared around and used the bat to deflect it straight into his gonads. While writhing in pain, the manager ran out and started yelling "Dumbass, that is NOT a sac(k) bunt"!!!