forward...pitCH!

I'm tossing out an old pitch today, a poem from Pumpkin Butterfly that 's just full of those -CHs I love so muCH.  Without further ado (and with deep longing for more of the hint of warmth that we got in Bethesda today)....

Cherry Very

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

Backbone straight

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

        noschool slobberdrool

        spitwhistle summerfun    home run!

HM 2009

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.

--Diane Mayr

Charles gets in the game with a distinctly diamond-shaped pitch--love all the muscular language and the cacophony of metaphors!

PUNCH OUT

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 Pitch

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:

Wow

She sings and she plays baseball.
She really is a witch.
Cause either thing she’s doing
the girl’s got perfect pitch.

—Kate Coombs

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.

--Carol Varsalona

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!

      Homerun!

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
silent.
Was this gonna get violent?
Here's the pitch,......


Pitch Perfect

You need to be
pitch perfect
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!