Welcome to the world of baseball poems, where the letters and words turn into players running around. Reading a baseball poem is like going on a treasure hunt. Baseball poetry captures the drama, excitement, and occasional disappointment of the game.
Baseball was developed in the United States. It is one of the most famous sports in Japan, Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, and Japan. Baseball is a team game played by two teams of nine players just like poetry,telling the inside stories.
Baseball is not just a game. It’s an art, and people love to enjoy this art through some interesting poems about baseball. On this page, I am sharing some inspirational and short poems about basketball, perfect for fans of all ages and backgrounds.
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Robert Frost
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
Dreams
Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
Passing Time
Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk
One paints the beginning
of a certain end.
The other, the end of a
sure beginning.
“Faith” Is A Fine Invention
Emily Dickinson
“Faith” is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see—
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency.
Strong Game
Fresh-cut grass, the crowd cheering on
The roar in excitement, helps me play the game strong
I spit to the side, then turn my hat around
As I roughly tap my bat, close to the ground
The ball comes towards me
As I nearly missed
Wham, whoosh goes the ball
As the ball gets hit
Champion
A game for champion hitters
Major and minor league
A shortstop to the scoreboard
A fastball for the team
A slugger from the batter
A pitch to wow the crowd
A centre-fielded curveball
From the pitcher’s mound
Baseball Is A Fun
To reach first base is a joy
That leaves you with a thirst for more
Second base is exciting
Pride is on the horizon
Third base is so tense
Don’t want to sit on the fence
Fourth base is a home run
Winning brings the team fun
A Question
Robert Frost
A voice said, Look me in the stars
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars
Were not too much to pay for birth.
Infield Pop Fly
Pop up to the sky
Infielders under the ball
Catch, infield fly rule
The Sweet Spot
Crack of the bat rings
Hitting ball’s sweet spot sends it
Soaring to great heights
Batter Up
Pitcher winds up, throws
Batter swings with all his might
Baseball soars away
Clothespins
By Stuart Dybek
I once hit clothespins
for the Chicago Cubs.
I’d go out after supper
when the wash was in
and collect clothespins
from under four stories
of clothesline.
A swing-and-a-miss
was a strike-out;
the garage roof, Willie Mays,
pounding his mitt
under a pop fly.
Bushes, a double,
off the fence, triple,
and over, home run.
The bleachers roared.
I was all they ever needed for the flag.
New records every game—
once, 10 homers in a row!
But sometimes I’d tag them
so hard they’d explode,
legs flying apart in midair,
pieces spinning crazily
in all directions.
Foul Ball! What else
could I call it?
The bat was real.
Seventh-Inning Stretch
Rising to our feet
Seventh-inning stretch begins
Stretching out our limbs
The Pitcher by Robert Francis
His art is eccentricity, his aim
How not to hit the mark he seems to aim at,
His passion how to avoid the obvious,
His technique how to vary the avoidance.
The others throw to be comprehended. He
Throws to be a moment misunderstood.
Yet not too much. Not errant, arrant, wild,
But every seeming aberration willed.
Not to, yet still, still to communicate
Making the batter understand too late.
The Pitcher by Robert Francis
His art is eccentricity, his aim
How not to hit the mark he seems to aim at,
His passion how to avoid the obvious,
His technique how to vary the avoidance.
The others throw to be comprehended. He
Throws to be a moment misunderstood.
Yet not too much. Not errant, arrant, wild,
But every seeming aberration willed.
Not to, yet still, still to communicate
Making the batter understand too late.
The Game We Play
The crack of the bat, the roar of the crowd
The game we play, where teamwork is loud
From the pitcher’s mound to the outfield wall
Each player working together, standing tall
For baseball is a sport that requires a team
Each player with a role to fulfill, a dream to dream
From the catcher to the shortstop, the first baseman too
Each one working together, to see the game through
The pitcher throws, the catcher calls
The batter swings, the fielder falls
Each player knowing their job well
Working together, they create a spell
For teamwork is the heart of the game
A bond that links players, the same
From the dugout to the diamond, they unite
With every pitch, with every fight
For baseball is more than just a game
It’s a family, it’s a team, it’s a name
A sport that binds us, a sport that inspires
A team that stands together, as it aspires
To greatness, to victory, to the win
Each player giving their all, within
And as the game unfolds, we see
The beauty of teamwork, the beauty of we
For baseball is a game that unites
A sport that brings us to new heights
A team that works together, to achieve
A goal that’s bigger than we can conceive
So let us play this game with pride
Let us work together, side by side
For in the end, it’s not about the fame
It’s about the team, the game we claim.
Poems About Baseball Pitches
The Pitcher by Robert Francis
His art is eccentricity, his aim
How not to hit the mark he seems to aim at,
His passion how to avoid the obvious,
His technique how to vary the avoidance.
The others throw to be comprehended. He
Throws to be a moment misunderstood.
Yet not too much. Not errant, arrant, wild,
But every seeming aberration willed.
Not to, yet still, still to communicate
Making the batter understand too late.
FAQS
A baseball game tells a story inside the confines of its form, just as a poem does. Its balls and strikes, hits and outs, runs and innings are very like the echoes and rhymes, stresses and stops, lines and stanzas of a poem.
Baseball’s very rhythms are those of poetry, acknowledging that if everything can change in a moment, then attention to those moments is an essential duty.
Like life– baseball is a series of ups and downs. There are times when we strike out, and there are times when we hit a home run. There isn’t a player out there, even in the Hall of Fame, that hasn’t experienced all of life’s lessons while playing the game; losses and wins, joys and sorrows, successes and failures.
What Important Life Lessons Does Baseball Teach?
How to Deal with Failure. You aren’t always going to hit a home run when you step up to bat. …
How to Deal with Success. No one likes a braggy winner, whether it’s on the field or in life. …
How to Deal with Pressure. …
Working as a Team. …
Taking Direction. …
Importance of Hard Work.
It is the national pastime, the American sport, one cherished and loved by an entire nation. In many ways, it symbolizes not only America, but the American spirit.