ball three–
the manager’s foot
on the dugout steps
Published by
Tim Jamieson
I am Canadian, born and raised in the province of Saskatchewan and living in Winnipeg, Manitoba. I first began writing haiku in 1983, and have had work accepted in Canada, the U.S., Japan, Australia, New Zealand, England, Ireland and Belgium.
View all posts by Tim Jamieson
No forrow
behind the canoe…
only memories
home run
hands on hips the pitcher
stares at the dirt
called out on strikes
shaking his head all the way
back to the dugout
Comingday of spring.
My haiku
Blooming with buds.
Unhappy nests below the balcony.
Swallows came
and went without address.
The late autumn
A field on slope
has torn its carpet.
the suspense and anticipation are
palpable in this piece. truly a small
poem that says a whole lot. excellent.
late innings
the shortstop backpedals
into fireflies
game three
all the eyes
on his ball
green light
the hitter waits
in the box
popup
lost in the sun
beyond reach
pop fly—
playing catch
with the sun
pop fly—
moonviewing
in a field of dreams
outside the park
the bag lady works her glove,
the game in her ear
homerun fireworks,
the Japanese batter bows deeply—
August 6 stats
summer waning …
in my daughter’s eyes
seeing mine