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BASEBALL POEM
Baseball Is...
Baseball is grass, chalk, and dirt
displayed the same yet differently
In every park that has ever heard the words play ball.
Baseball is a passion that bonds and divides
all those who know it.
Baseball is a pair of hands stained with newsprint,
A set of eyes squinting to read a boxscore,
A brow creased in an attempt to recreate a
three-hour game
From an inch square block of type.
Baseball is the hat I wear to mow the lawn.
Baseball is a simple game of catch and
the never-ending search for the perfect knuckleball.
Baseball is Willie vs Mickey, Gibson vs Koufax,
and Buddy Biancalana vs the odds.
Baseball links Kansan and Missourian, American and Japanese.
Baseball is the scent of spring,
And the face of a 10-year-old emerging from a pile of bodies
With a worthless yet priceless foul ball.
Baseball is a language of very simple words that tell
unbelievably magic tales.
Baseball is three brothers in the same uniform
on the same team for one brief summer
Captured forever in a black and white photo
on a table by the couch.
Baseball is a glove on a shelf, oiled and tightly wrapped,
Slumbering through the stark winter months.
Baseball is a breast pocket bulging with a transistor radio.
Baseball is the reason there are transistor radios.
Baseball is a voice in a box describing men you've never met,
In a place you've never been,
Doing things you'll never have the chance to do.
Baseball is a dream that you never really give up on.
Baseball is precious.
Baseball is timeless.
Baseball is forever.
By: Greg Hall
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