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K-ROB May 6
Steve
April 29, 1967-October 7, 2018
Miss You Buddy

No sunset in this park today.
But of course not, for today is your birthday.
Everywhere I look, all I see is grey!

The Angels are weeping so we don’t have to; that’s not what you would want.
You would want us to share our memories and trust me I have 4 pages front and back,
AT LEAST!

You were taken too soon, no time to adapt
So unexpected and you were the happiest I’d seen you
With Ivan home and Emil good, and Jackson to fill the dull moments
“Action Jackson”, that’s what you called him
And so did my Papa Dale

You loved that he loved music,
You wanted to teach him to play catch.
You were making progress, taking steps

I miss your loyal, honest and witty ***
Oh,and I started studying numerology!
You’ll never guess your number!
#1
But I’m sure that comes as no surprise
You would have loved it!!!

Hope you are up there watching baseball, drinking beer, listening to music,
and telling stories about your family
with your old military pals!
I miss you dear friend
I miss your home, it was my 2nd
No judgement ever
We all had our ****,
Different days, different times
But we rallied together to help, and have a good time
You and I never fought except maybe for a second
We playfully fought about baseball
You were a die hard Cubs fan,
and I was team Cards!

You were getting back on track,
on your way to work
No way is that fair
I miss you dear friend
Your stories, your humor
You making fun of Blair slickly,
us laughing til we cried
I miss your heart, you’re real, you’re true
FAMILY WAS EVERYTHING
and the rest, music, military, beer,
baseball, laughing, and Laura
You were a simple man
You knew exactly who you were at all times
That I always admired
You thought you knew it all; you probably did!
I miss kicking back people watching on the front porch or music in the garage!

Miss your stories, your humor, your strong will
And that 2nd place I thought of as home.

Loved your dad when he was here and loved both Emil and Ivan instantly upon meeting
I hope your kids know if they need anything, to call
You stepped up for Jackson,
That really says it all!

I miss you buddy, til next time...
I raise this beer
One of my best friends passed away too soon, and I wrote this poem for him on his birthday
A True Story
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy Michael Burch

Jeremy hit the ball today
when he and I went out to play.
He hit it, oh, so far away,
a neighbor had to throw it back!

Jeremy hit the ball so hard
it flew into the neighbor’s yard
and caught the other kids off-guard;
they thought it was an air attack!

Jeremy hit the ball again,
above the sun, beyond the wind;
as we watched it soar and slowly spin ...
we gave high-fives for his awesome smack!

Keywords/Tags: baseball, hitting, backyard, child, children, childhood, kids, fence, neighbor, yard, play, air, home run, homer, high-fives
hey pete!
by michael r. burch

for Pete Rose

hey pete,
it's baseball season
and the sun ascends the sky,
encouraging a schoolboy’s dreams
of winter whizzing by;
go out, go out and catch it,
put it in a jar,
set it on a shelf
and then
you'll be a Superstar.

Note: Pete Rose was my favorite baseball player as a boy; this poem is not a slam at him, but rather ironic commentary on the term “superstar.” Keywords/Tags: Pete Rose, baseball, season, star, superstar, sun, sky, schoolboy, dreams, winter, spring, summer, Cincinnati Reds, Big Red Machine, Elite Eight, Charlie Hustle, Hit King
Just Smile
by Michael R. Burch

We’d like to think some angel smiling down
will watch him as his arm bleeds in the yard,
ripped off by dogs, will guide his tipsy steps,
his doddering progress through the scarlet house
to tell his mommy “boo-boo!,” only two.

We’d like to think his reconstructed face
will be as good as new, will often smile,
that baseball’s just as fun with just one arm,
that God is always Just, that girls will smile,
not frown down at his thousand livid scars,
that Life is always Just, that Love is Just.

We just don’t want to hear that he will shave
at six, to raze the leg hairs from his cheeks,
that lips aren’t easily fashioned, that his smile’s
lopsided, oafish, snaggle-toothed, that each
new operation costs a billion tears,
when tears are out of fashion.
                                                O, beseech
some poet with more skill with words than tears
to find some happy ending, to believe
that God is Just, that Love is Just, that these
are Parables we live, Life’s Mysteries . . .

Or look inside his courage, as he ties
his shoelaces one-handed, as he throws
no-hitters on the first-place team, and goes
on dates, looks in the mirror undeceived
and smiling says, “It’s me I see. Just me.”

He smiles, if life is Just, or lacking cures,
Your pity is the worst cut he endures.
But hack him down and still he’ll always rise,
lifting his smile to the sun or the star-filled skies.

Published by Lucid Rhythms, The Eclectic Muse and Victorian Violet Press, then nominated by the latter for the Pushcart Prize

Keywords/Tags: Angels, baseball, ****** reconstruction, surgery, operation, God, scars, tears, courage, mirror, smile, date, dating, dog, attack, dogs, happy ending
Ethan Feb 11
So baseball starts soon and pitchers and catchers reported today. This is the most excited i've been since the Kansas City Chiefs won the Superbowl. I know that's not long but baseball is just amazing and an awesome display. Baseball is that sport that you can't run the clock out and don't have total control. Anything can happen in baseball. It's amazing to see the comebacks that can happen. If your the Astros you'll just want to forestall. Baseball is always somebody's passion. Some people say is boring. Others say it is a smart person's game. How can it be boring and lame if all those fans are roaring. Baseball every season relights the same flame.
Carlo C Gomez Jan 21
Rose was a Red
Dodgers are blue
We're stealing signs
How 'bout you?

Cheat like this
Not like that
One's okay
The other picked at

Keep to tradition
Not technology
Yeah it's confusing
So is most any ideology
Travis Wilson Dec 2019
It's a studied eye that starts it off
That sees the ball and knocks it rough
But chance has had no love for thee
For tis Simmons bent the knee
His eye is quick, his arm is long
And it's a bead on first he's drawn
Quick! He's down into the dust
And quicker still the run's a bust
For Andrelton's had his way today
And made yet one more famous play

The shouts come now from those who won
And the chant is An-drel-ton
Mark Toney Oct 2019
flipping baseball cards
in the flippin' school yard
pictures up, stats down
Drysdale, Koufax, Mantle, Spahn
or vice versa all around

retirement income source lost on the playground...
6/8/2019 - Poetry form: Light Verse - Back in elementary school we used to flip baseball cards on the school grounds.  Today, a Gem mint PSA 10 1952 Topps Mickey Mantle baseball card, may well be worth $10 million. Who knew? - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Sadie Aug 2019
you don’t know what it’s like,
watching a person you love, love something else.
partaking in what they want,
pretending to love it too,
hiding how you really feel.
it seems justified when you see how happy it makes them.
their eyes light up with joy,
they can’t help but smile,
they wear the look you do when you think of them,
but then it fades.
not their happiness, but yours.
you feel trapped,
changed into what they want.
slowly forgetting what it was that used to make you happy,
slowly forgetting what the happiness even felt like,
so you close yourself off.
following along faithfully.
all they wanted was to share the thing they love with the person they love,
but you can’t hold on forever.
so they fall out of love with you,
seek a new person to share with,
leaving you alone,
lost.
chasing after the object of their affection in hopes to win them back.
forever distancing yourself from the person you used to be,
forever trapping yourself in the world you so desperately want to escape,
forever following hopelessly in their footsteps.
JT Nelson Jun 2019
Sometimes dads can amaze us
With feats of athleticism
That we didn't think they had in them

My dad once snagged a foul ball
With his hand outstretched
And didn't drop the beer in his other hand.

I just stared in disbelief at this man
Standing there like he did it everyday
This day was my lucky day as he flipped me the ball.
Remembering my dad as baseball season gets rolling.
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