I had to look up 'batting cage' (no baseball played in Northern Ireland!) and I was immediately filled with melancholy as I remembered playing rounders in the park opposite my grandmother's house with my cousins. Amazing how memories come flooding back because of something I'd never heard of! Thank you. :]
October 24th, 2012 at 5:01 pm
dawn
autumn's desires
deepen
October 24th, 2012 at 5:02 pm
Good to see your work here Chad!
Alan
October 24th, 2012 at 6:17 pm
first gone grand slam —
her father retrieves the ball
for a keepsake
First published spring 04' in Spitball: The Literary Baseball Magazine
April 23rd, 2013 at 2:37 am
Wonderful poems!
October 24th, 2012 at 7:08 pm
dawn
wiping the blood
off his baseball bat
October 24th, 2012 at 9:19 pm
above the Polo Grounds the sound of rain
October 25th, 2012 at 9:48 am
boarded-up ball park
a dust devil swirls along
a baseline
November 23rd, 2012 at 2:47 am
I had to look up 'batting cage' (no baseball played in Northern Ireland!) and I was immediately filled with melancholy as I remembered playing rounders in the park opposite my grandmother's house with my cousins. Amazing how memories come flooding back because of something I'd never heard of! Thank you. :]