"homerun" poems
I drop four ice cubes into my coke out of habit.
I kiss my sweet love four times for good luck so our team can win the game.
I catch myself counting to four when Im ready to speak up, I don't count to three or even ten I count to four.
It was on my back in big white letters when dad looked through the chain linked fence and said with every ounce of his pride "Take it for a ride lex."
That's the day I got my first homerun.
That's my old man's favorite number and mine too.
Ill never know why I look at him like hes god.
He spelt my name wrong two years back.
The letters said L-e-x-i,
I whispered that's not how you spell my name it's spelled L-e-x-i-e.
I whispered because I didn't want to embarrass him, I thought if I talked quiet enough no one could see my lips break around the words in shock.
I was 5 when me and mom left him.
The number 5 is my most unlucky number it always takes something from me, like my dog, she was in my arms on the fifth of may when heaven called for her to go home.
Dad came the next day to burry her, the hole he dug was to shallow.
Days after her funeral foxes came and
scattered her bones across the field.
It was a treasure hunt to find all of them, I tried to save her one last time.
I should really give that man a call.
I'll do it tomorrow , or I'll wait for him to call.
I'll count to four before I answer.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 4:50 AM UTC
Iridium fastball pitches
from Zuni serpent mound,
bottom of the 9th walk-off homerun
over 30ft diving moai.
Slide to home base in volcanic lava
to congratulatory ***** Gatorade bath
from Kubla Kahn forefathers,
chanting psychedelic clubhouse anthems.
Levitate from home plate
and land atop Pyramid of Cholula for victory dinner;
for since we’re all artists in our dreams,
true dreams never come true.
Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 10:34 PM UTC
She laughs as I tell her how
The way she devours her stadium dog
Is so *******
I can’t concentrate
Only we are interrupted by
The crack of gunshot over an open plain
It is followed by a hoorah hurricane
So unison I stop trying to make her laugh
Think about the car ride later
And being stuck in traffic
And sliding gently into home
I want to tell her about years from now
Ninth inning deathbed passion
When my red seems finally begin to burst their cotton
About the splinters living inside of my hands
I was living with them inside of my hands
That’s why I was so rough sometimes
How the scotch guard kept the **** off of my knees
I loved to trace the outline of her ***** diamond
Until there were grooves in there
And my initials in her catchers mound
We are so much hoarse voices
Lost in the noise of ***** hands clapping
How I imagine
As I am sliding into home
In our shower
The soft patter of water on the curtain is stadium applause
Let me run grooves in your shapely pattern
Your laughter is a full circle homerun from heartache
Save me again sweet music
Open plain gunshot buildup
And then a noise so booming it is silence
And us
Ninth inning deathbed lovers
Gently sliding into home
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
The ***** back in play.
The crowd is cheering.
You're under pressure.
You freeze.…………
The pitch is thrown.
You swing and miss.
Strike one.
The ball is thrown....
You let it go.
Strike two.
People in the stands yelling and screaming.
The pitch is thrown.
You swing and you hit it.
Home run.
The first homerun of your life.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 7:20 AM UTC
Stepping up to the plate,
I knew what was coming next,
Hot and fast,
A little curve at the end,
I could get to first base,
I guessed,
Rounding the corner,
maybe second.
A little hustle in my step,
A slide perhaps,
A double on opening night.
Anxiety as I approached,
Ready to swing away,
'can I do this?'
I stepped out of the box for a moment,
My turn to shine,
Stepping in,
Choking up,
Relaxing my shoulders as I prepared to follow-through,
Eyes fixed on the pitch,
A homerun would be nice,
Then I realized,
Just getting to first-base would be a home-run for me,
This rookie,
My god,
Dating is sooo hard.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 6:59 AM UTC
Back, back, back, it's gone!
I hit a homerun in life.
My sweet family.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
aka... to those who crave limelight
There seems to be this growing
social stigma
for individuals to need to
acquire the attention of others
and hit a homerun.
This very desire can lead one to ruin.
You see,
if you want to stand out so much
it will only be a matter of time before you do, one way or another.
And to stand out is to separate one's self, and eventually enough separation
leads to...
...isolation...
...and then you're alone,
amongst your own,
and you will have put yourself there!
The trick to winning within the tribe,
is to become one of the tribe,
and be one with the tribe.
That's all
Easy. ;^)
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 4:14 AM UTC
bring it
little Louisville Slugger
poised for action
hits just the right spots
crack of the bat
such simple satisfaction
smack down
straight
into the crowd
hungry for the win
eyes light up
its another
homerun baby
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
be your own light of encouragement,against the darkness of failure and discord.keep swing until a homerun is hit.victory is a mighty tide to overcome crashing limbs of defeat,belief wins out when all else fails.know who you are in the world, wise beautiful victorious great informed,not ignorant nor intolerant,you are awesome daily.all of these are seeds within to use.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
He’s sitting there, Beats on music bumping
Losing himself in the rhythm letting the flow
Psych him up, his coach walks over and yells
At him GET YOUR *** OUT THERE. He takes
Off his headphones the final beat bringing
Back a memory
He was sitting there, the coach told him to
Take the bench, the other starter was out
There, where he should be. Gym class picked
Last again told he ***** no one wants him.
He’s tired of not being good enough he vows
To never let it happen again. And so he dedicates
Himself, pushing, driving, putting in the work
Needed to be a star, almost giving up
He never did
The ref looks at him and tells him to step up.
He steps up to the mat, he skates to the line,
He breaks from the huddle, toes the invisible
Line, steps up to the plate, steps Up next to his
teammate, steps up to the foul Line
The whistle blows
He shoots for the legs, he passes the puck
He throws the spiral, he throws his hands up
He swings his bat, passes the ball, takes the
Shot…..
He pins him in 30 secs and wins the championship,
He puts the puck in the back of the net for
The win, He throws another touchdown
Pass, He pulls down the most amazing catch
He crushes the ball for a homerun,
He kicks the ball into the net, he swishes
The ball, nothing but net
They call him the legend, champion
The monster, invincible, hall of famer
They ask how he done it?
He never gave up on that vow and he
Step up
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 12:43 PM UTC
Silence comes
from bones
that rot in the Earth
beneath a wet stone
with a carved name
white as good teeth
in a hard jaw.
Silence is
a homerun some kid
hit in Tennessee
in 1973 and a father
remembering the ball
going like a bullet
deep into left center.
Silence is
a brother grimacing
whispering your name,
through salt
and tears on his cheeks,
one last time.
Silence, it just is...
quiet, like pain.
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
preemptive strike
batting zero
i don’t want to walk
this one
i want a homerun
covered in dirt and
sweat because i
slid on home
yeah that’s where
my mind goes
when i dream about you
i’ve already picked
out our anthem
and i haven’t even
kissed you yet
girl
let’s take over
the world
right now
come on
what’re we waiting
for
and you got me
thinking that
maybe we just might
it isn’t a promise
it’s a threat
it may not be
forever but at
least it’s a start
i’m swinging
with my eyes closed
hoping just
hoping i’ll
hear that
crack
smack
connect
like a firework
point to the sky
and maybe with
you
i’ll hit it out of the park
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 1:26 PM UTC
Hair in a pony tail, ball cap on.
Wearin’ my team colors, ready to rock on.
Husband agitated cause I’m makin’ him wait.
Hey, gotta have my face on, I gotta look great!
Finally at the ballpark, game already rockin’.
Peanut shells crunchin’ quickly walkin’.
“Excuse me, Pardon me”. Finally to our seats.
Hot dog and a beer. This is hard to beat.
Into the first inning and our team at the plate.
Ooh, it’s my favorite player and he is lookin’ great!
Strike one. Ball one. Strike two and then,
A crack as wood meets leather and that ball is gone forever.
As one, the crowd roars and on our feet we stand and grin,
We watch our hero round the bases and bring that first run in.
Back and forth the score goes; it’s the bottom of the ninth inning.
Two outs already, bases loaded, our last chance at winning.
Crowd silent, on our feet as my hero takes his stance.
Only down by one, we know this is his chance.
They’ve brought the “closer” in, the one with all the skills.
He’s throwin’ heat, he’s throwin’ low, he’s going for the ****
A nasty strike zooms o’er the plate and a collective gasp is heard.
My guy steps back, deep breath in, and not a single word.
Ball one is what the next pitch is and the crowd begins to whisper,
My batter glares toward the mound, “That all you got there, Mister?”
The pitcher shakes off two signals from the catcher,
Checks the runners on the bases, winds up the widow maker.
Like lightning that ball leaves his hand, and with a mighty swing,
He hits the best grand slam homerun that we have ever seen.
Our team has won, the crowd goes wild, the stadium is rockin’!
Our boys are roundin’ those bases and not a one of them is walkin’!
Hand slappin’ our seat mates and huggin on each other.
A long night of baseball ended. Don’t you just love those boys of summer?
Copyright, 9/8/09 Peggy Montgomery
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 9:38 AM UTC
Sometimes it's best to just let the words flow,
Out of your mind and from your soul.
Human communication has evolved in a way,
Millennium, after millennium, into what it is today.
Does it not seem odd in strange and quirky way,
That even us people sometimes don't know what to say?
We speak.
We listen.
We know.
We learn.
Yet often, we are left speechless without a word in mind.
Like when you witness a fight.
Or watch someone hit a homerun.
You see your dad cry.
Trying something you love for the first time.
A loved one dies.
Hearing an unbelievable secret.
Having *** for the first time.
Falling in love.
Getting your heart broken.
It's one thing to know what to say.
It's another to know how you feel.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 5:15 AM UTC
you know that feeling you get when you wake up
right before the alarm clock goes off?
that is us.
we are as carefully constructed as sand castles...
always one grain away from the hour.
just one inch too short of making the rollercoaster,
and tippy-toes now just won't cut it.
we are a missed flight.
i ran my fastest, carrying along our bags, bulky and heavy.
my palms keep getting blistered,
and i know for sure its not the monkey bars
or that baseball bat,
i kept swinging.
one homerun for every hundred fouls.
we are one mile short of the marathon.
a violin strung too tight to symphonize.
a micrometer short of the ratio--the golden
green of nature. but Frost knows best
that nothing gold can stay.
we are the silver medal,
and never could i settle for second best.
we are tired, weighted eyes
longing for closure,
and peaceful slumber.
but our lids are taped wide open
and we have stared too deeply,
too certainly and stubbornly,
into the past that
like an orphan on his birthday,
there never came a present.
we are that feeling.
we are the breaking point,
that moment right before you lean in
for a kiss you'll never get to steal.
the longing after lightning
for the thunder,
only ever finding silence.
and no law of physics can explain
this hole now.
we are a dead and ancient language,
a star that burned out just one century too early
to ever shoot into a wish.
a wave lost in the ocean,
a tree fallen in a forest so vast,
so pure, so untouched,
it didn't even deserve to make a sound.
we are two figments of one imagination.
a dream we are both too afraid to wake up from,
a grip so tight that everything just slipped...
...away into the wind that caught
your hair
and mine
and the wing of a seagull,
soaring steady above the coast
into a sunrise
we will never arrive in time to catch.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
At the time
Only a sing-song of words
A small poem
By a grandma
Could not have been more loved
By a young girl who got a ribee
‘A ribee
A ribee
Melissa got a ribee’
The poem chanted from the stands
Of the small softball field
A fleck in the eye of nature
And the world in the eye
of a young girl
A young girl who had the love that
Middle aged men wake up
In the middle of the night
Crying out
For
But all Melissa knew
Was that she had
a ribee
And a few verses to praise such a small feat
Which watered it into a moment of glory
In this way
Life’s moments of glory
Are only so
Because of great strokes of love
Painted on their grain
So a few years later
And a few moments wiser
And a few words more thoughtful
A young girl thanks you
For your great stokes of love
Which have turned her life from a ribee
Into a homerun
For I hope you know
How your soft curls and kind blue eyes
Tell the story of a self-less love
The kind of love
So gentle that it sneaks up behind you
And warms you up
Like socks after ice skating
and laughter after dinner
and holding hands after a long day
and a poem after a ribee
the kind of love that tingles
not burns
and is steady
not infrequent
For you, my lovely grandma,
Are fluent in a language
That breathes in every country
A language many labor for lifetimes to comprehend
And for centuries to speak
But, you speak this language
In natural whispers
A stream to a pond
A horse to a field
A chime to a summer’s afternoon
You speak this language through
Small actions and fluid motions
Easing the stress of the world
With yet another moment of love
For even in a hospital bed
You ask about my bed
And my adventures
My foolish problems of a young heart
Running around the world
Running into pretend issues
Running into new nouns
And wanting so much to run into your arms
So you can welcome me home
And so I can thank you
For your thousands of moments
With one small moment
And I think of that moment
A kiss on the cheek
An ear for your words
A moment with your love
Because I love you
And because I want to love
Like you do
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC
Shhhhhhhhh, shh, shush!
They can hear you!
The sun is shining and you’re excited
but you’re missing the point!
It’s about change, something new.
It’s about the sport bamarama homerun
outta the park and into their eyes.
Huuuuushhh!
We can’t be a bunch of buzzing flies,
Mean, disturbing cries disguised as whiny babies.
Well, I guess this whole thing is a baby,
But also a promise, to the future.
Shhshshhshhh.
Call it Heaven,
because once they give us the key
the pearly gates open wide.
Let my angels sing with their large white wings.
We got a future to fly for.
Shhhhhhhhh!
Don’t you get it?
Freedom of speech doesn't unlock your voice box.
It strings your arrow and pulls it back,
shooting through the hearts of grey suits.
Hush.
Now you know,
don’t give away your position with your battle cry,
shoot your arrow into the source.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC
A shield --
That's what the alcohol is for me
While I force a smile
As she jostles you
While soaking up the place with her laugh.
I smirk and jest and guffaw
While we besiege you
With relentless questions and merciless teasing
Like how they used to do to me
In Seoul.
Now I'm right here
Where they used to be
Bleeding behind bravado and brofists
Interrogating you
With half-meant jokes.
*'Have you gone to third base yet?'
'How about a homerun?'*
Sorry.
What we are
Are just ghosts
Of yesterday.
Cheering you on,
Laughing and shrugging,
Tasting the sweetness of the past
And sharing that look of,
'I know that feel, bro.'
Now it's your turn.
And it's just a matter of time
Before you come to us
With tears in your eyes
Shards in your heart
A ready spiel of
*'You'll never guess what happened,
you guys,'*
All set to go.
Yeah, we've been there
Done that.
Me being the latest addition to their ranks,
Yep,
We do know.
And we do understand.
So trust us
When we say
When the time comes
Just wait and see.
A delay is not a denial.
I really hope this works out for you, though.
If not,
Well,
You'll see.
Three days is nothing.
I've been there.
All those wasted hopes and plans
For nothing.
It's fine.
You're fine.
All good in the hood.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
My heart is in confusion and as torn up as it is its feeling love
The only thing I can see is the rose petals dropping and a sky full of doves
I really want to get back in the game but I'm afraid I'll drop out again
I'd rather love and be in the skies than touch the ground and let my feet descend
My heart is nothing more than broken glass waiting to be restored
But now I see it, someone who's worth drawing my sword
I want to her to plug into my lifeless outlet to bring back the electricity
Because then I'll know the depths of her authenticity
There was a mistake in the past but there's still hope for a new beginning
If it were a baseball match I'd want this homerun to last more than nine innings
I don't think I can express my words until I tell her who's inside
But now that their here these are the feelings I just can't hide
I'll just have to tell her up front and hope she feels the same too
Because I need to take action and stop asking myself What Do I Do
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 6:36 PM UTC
The Catcher In the Rye reboot trilogy; sequels comprise Pitcher In the Rye and part 3: Batter In the Rye. The love story of a ball and a glove, whom a bat tried to separate. Stay tuned for the spicy novel 50 Shades of Homerun, where the characters go through all the bases, all the way to the home...
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 4:56 AM UTC
You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take
Regret
The feeling that makes your stomach ache
Regret
There’s no way to shake
Regret
You can try to change until you’re blue in the face
Regret
No steps back in time
No second chances
Regret
Go with your gut
No regrets
Take that shot
No regrets
Be yourself
No regrets
Stand out proudly
No regrets
No hesitation no second-guessing go for it all
No BS’ing
Climb the mountain
Take that homerun swing
Just remember this one little thing
No regrets
Go big or go home In whatever you do
Don’t let that feeling overcome you
Because once you do it will hold on tightly
It will weaken us all even the strong and mighty
And so I leave you with this please don’t forget
Live life to the fullest
No regrets
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC
Today I pulled a plum,
Apart with my fingers and my thumb.
I did not use a knife,
But held it open to examine life.
And when I finally ate,
It tasted all the more richer.
Fuller, and the texture
Was a virtuoso in visceral sensuality;
Vibrant and mouthful.
The enveloping heat emanating from the sun
Moved through my body like a home-run,
Sounds exploded in my eardrum,
Replacing the peace with a sweet hum.
yum **
Apr 30, 2025
Apr 30, 2025 at 10:47 PM UTC
You ******* started it.
I told you once to stop and
You refused to quit.
I drew a line in the sand
You stepped up to the plate
I took a homerun swing when
You reached out and grabbed me
I hope you ******* regret it
You got what you deserved and
I will not feel sorry for it
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 2:05 AM UTC