Be sneaky, be cheeky
Pinch from the kitchen
The reddest, the roundest there are
A bowl full of cherries
a bowl of the very
most cherriest bombs by far
Step up to the plate
Puff up your chest and lungs
Swallow the fruit
Ready to shoot
Put the pit in the groove of your tongue
One more tip:
Round your lips
To launch it without a hitch
Don’t get tense
Aim for the fence
Wind up like you’re fixing to pitch
Now blast it hard
Across the yard
Kissing that missile goodbye
It’s over the fence!
It’s out of the park!
It’s a letloose cherryjuice
spitwhistle summerfun home run!
all rights reserved
And what cherry pits are you spittin' I mean pitCHing at us today? I heard a rumor that we might have some kids' work coming our way today....CHampion!
Diane outdoes herself and just about wears out the word with her tale of a pirate taleteller:
Mr. Peeps a.k.a. the Pitch Perfect Pirate
Filthy from pine pitch and stinking
of rum still his mateys love
the timbre and pitch of his voice.
They spend hours rapt in his tales
of heroics and winsome lasses.
Like the pitch of a snake oil salesman
Mr. Peeps grabs their attention and
doesn't let go until the sale is made.
Any helmsman who dares steer
into a swell will find himself
pitched overboard if he causes
the vessel to pitch and roll.
Ship mates brought to
an emotional pitch become
testy if a story is interrupted.
The captain knows the pitched
battle will ne'er be fought when
Peeps is telling tales, but he
no longer pitches a fit, for in
the pitch black night no one
notices him sitting listening
with thumb in his mouth
thinking of his dear, old, mum.
Mr. Peeps' stories'll do that to a man.
Charles gets in the game with a distinctly diamond-shaped pitch--love all the muscular language and the cacophony of metaphors!
Tattered mound caked in cleated footprints,
Dirt soaked uniform clings to my flesh,
Arm dangles like spaghetti being hoisted out
Of a colander. I blink; wipe sweat out of eyes,
Identify my battery mates signal, #1,
The Heater. Fingers pressed across crimson
Colored sutures, I breathe deep, rear back, let fly
This ruby pearled orb, the pitch whizzes by
As the batter stands frozen as
An Alaskan winter, “Strike 3!” Game over.
I slouch in happiness.
(c) Charles Waters 2015 all rights reserved.
Mary Lee's taking it to the retail sector where pitching a fit might lead to a moral dilemma:
RIGHT AND WRONG
The customer is always right
except when they're wrong
and so determined to get their way
that they go over your head to your boss
and next will be your boss' boss
if you don't pitch your scruples
in order to keep the peace.
The customer who is the biggest bully is always right.
And that's just wrong.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2015
Donna returns with another how-many-pitches-can-we-fit? story (so glad not to be on this trip):
The salesman made the perfect pitch
and sold me on a tent ;
I called my friends they all pitched in
and in the van we went .
We drove down to the town boat launch,
put rowboat in the lake
A storm came up as we set out
which was our next mistake!
Our little rowboat pitched and rolled
more than a little bit -
We tossed our cookies in the lake
and pitched a whiny fit!
We tried to sing some sailing songs,
our voices swayed off key
Along the way to camp, I fear,
Our pitch was lost at sea!
To shore we rowed and rowed some more
and pitched the boat on land.
We tried to pitch our tent upright
But we were on wet sand.
Pitch black, and raining pitchforks
and hammer handles, too,
No flashlight, nor a candle,
What were we all to do?
The home-run pitch to pack it up
Was uttered from some lips
We crossed the water to the van
parked under pitch pine drips.
We pitched the tent into the back
to head home for a towel.
I aired the tent and washed the van -
proclaimed the pitch was foul.
©Donna JT Smith, 2015
Keeping it tight, Kate's got it right:
She sings and she plays baseball.
She really is a witch.
Cause either thing she’s doing
the girl’s got perfect pitch.
Carol brings us just the Concluding Poem of her Spiritual Journey Thursday post:
So let me pitch an inviting plea
to find the road to positivity
and discover what falls along your way
that allows one new discovery each and every day.
Joy's pitch is the dark pine-type:
The night is dark,
as dark as pitch.
Mosquitoes are flying
and I've got an itch.
And perhaps most excitingly, Kim Doele, a 3rd grade teacher and Poetry Club Advisor from Wealthy Elementary School (would that they were all Wealthy!) in Grand Rapids, MI, has linked to some pitch-perfect poems by her students. Follow THIS LINK to continue reading poems by Teagan, Eli and Hania!
The batter's at home.
He taps his bat.
The pitcher's arm swings
Here comes the pitch-.......
Sa-Wing bada bada
The pitch is coming down the lane
The crowd is shouting, "Sa-wing bada bada."
Bathroom using, I had ta!
Suddenly the crowd went
Was this gonna get violent?
Here's the pitch,......
You need to be
You look quite ugly to me.
Look at you. You're a mess!
Go put on your dirty dress.......
We just love it when "The Naturals" get in on the poetry game! Thanks, Ms. Doele and kids!