(Verse 1)

I’m the goal that you think you’re gonna score

A little bit of teasing got ya pleading for more (Yeah Yeah)

If you end up a loser no need to be sore (No No Nooo)


Givin’ up on trying to get me to stay

Like it was gonna happen anyway

You’ve run out of dumb lines to say

Well save em’ for a rainy day


I’m the judge and you’re the case

What you’re true intentions are it’s time to investigate

You wanna play hardball then step up to the plate

Cause we both know you’re just trying to get to third base



Tryna go camping in my spot

With that tent in your shorts

Tryna get your ball in my court

Well you must love games

Cause you tryna play sports

Somebody call the referee

Cause I gotta and I wanna (Wanna) hear that whistle blow

You really think you can handle me

Well we'll just have to wait and see


(Verse 2)

You wanna touchdown so baby go long

Now come on and show me what you got (Got)

It's a foul if you hit it wrong

Can ya get it can ya get it up (Up)

Like a jockey yeah giddy up (Aye!)


Like tennis

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Warning: Young poets read at your own risk. A raunchy about how men and women (but mostly guys I think use sports euphemisms when referr to or talking about sex or sexual encounters.


Baseball Everywhere

Elvin and Leroy were baseball players
From the time they were six years old
And best friends since the early days
A million baseball stories to be told

Their entire lives had been consumed
By the game of baseball which they
Played together all through school
Then pro-Negro league as Blue Jays

Even in retirement baseball was key
Games at the ball park and on the t.v.
Indeed – it was a sad day when Elvin
Passed away from a cardio infraction

Poor Leroy was hurt and felt so alone
He had always had Elvin by his side
And now without – was totally thrown
Unable to handle that Elvin had died

Leroy missed Elvin so much that he
Kept talking to him – always his plea
“Please let me know how you’re doing
So I can quit all my silly brooding”

But nothing – no answer from Elvin
Until late one night – in the kitchen
Leroy was talking - asking his friend
For a message – some sign to be sent

Leroy was sitting at the table and
Heard Elvin so asked – “that you man”
Without hesitation the voice of Elvin
Clear as day – “It’s me – good friend”

Leroy was both shocked and ecstatic
He started talking and then did ask
About baseball in heaven – and Elvin
Said – “Leroy – it really is heaven”

“They got baseball everywhere and
You should see the fields and parks
Just like we used to dream and plan
And got beautiful lights after dark”

“That is wonderful news” – said Leroy
“Wonderful – is there any bad news”
Elvin began tentatively – “well old boy
There is some bad news I brought you”

“What bad news - Elvin ” – Leroy asked
“Tell me – whatever - be what it might “
So Leroy started slow then said it fast
“Elvin - you’re pitchin’ tomorrow night”

Watching Paint Dry

I've always been an enthusiast for the
Fine game of baseball.
I am quite lonely in this league, or so
it seems, as most of
my associates are keen to liken it to
observing the freshly
splashed whitewash of a skilled painter,
which I suppose is a
fair comparison. Both spectacles are
drawn out, repetitive,
and tend to the esoteric within: each
one who is drawn to
enjoy the fanhood of our pastime has
their own personal
mantras, and standards with which to
judge. Every action,
however agile or daring, is but a flicked
brushstroke, adding
to the tapestry of a solitary game.
We are the judge
and jury, the unblinking eye that haunts
the gladiators, the
roving observers who deftly pinpoint
the flaws in a patch
of perfectly white paint. For, perfection
is unattainable, and
knowledge of this is why we don't watch
paint dry, and why
we watch baseball.

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All I Want is a Pitch

I want to play baseball.
The game isn't the true face at all.

I've watched since
I was a small child.

My heart always went to
thos most passionate and wild.

I fell in love with the
stories of triumph and success
Lose or win, triumph or fail
they were great games, and the best.

I wanted to be like that,
be a star, a player of the game.
I started to watch closely
and they all were not the same.

There were three differnet
games that I identified.
The ones in the majors and
the minors, and then the weekenders outside.

I've watched games
and I've picked up a bat.
I've swung and I've practiced
I've got on my batting hat.

It's my turn up
in this imaginary game.
But its not like I've seen
nothing is the same.

I'm ready to go
and confident I can play.
I've practiced and practiced
and its a perfect day.

I'm not so presumptuous
to think I'm super great.
I just want to take a swing
before it gets too late.

I don't even care if
I don't make it to first base.
All I want is a pitch!
I'll swing with a happy face.

Alas there isn't
even a pitcher on the mound.
I'm waiting all ready at the
plate, no pitcher to be found.

All I want is a pitch,
I'm so eager to play.
Please, someone
come and play.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 4/19/09.  April Challenge Day 17: a poem titled "All I Want is____".  This poem has a dual meaning.

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