Mama's Pride at Baseball
Ronda Grassi
He is 3 years old.
I pitch, he swings, I duck, beam.
Rippin them out’ the infield.
He is 3 years old.
I pitch, he swings, I duck, beam.
Rippin them out’ the infield.
Dedicated to the writing of those invited to participate in a baseball poetry project. Those invited were asked to 1) go to a baseball game, any game and 2) create a poem, in any shape or form about that particular game or some memory of baseball, for the purpose of developing a collection. Most baseball poetry collections are ones culled from the works of famous poets; this one is designed to be more democratic, inviting some established poets and others moved to write baseball poems.
2 Comments:
At 10:02 AM,
David Schaafsma said…
Full disclosure: I have a personal relationship with the "ripper" in this haiku: my nephew and namesake, David, who looks to me to follow in the athletic prowess of his mother. I like this sweet "mother's pride" poem to which any parent can relate.
At 10:08 AM,
Dan De Vries said…
Very Sweet. Love it.
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