There is a third baseman named Eric
Whose glove has turned golden from ferric.
Though praises we sing
Of his powerful swing,
His walk rate is merely generic.
Yet one more bloody contusion
Throws the D-Backs pen in confusion
They say he can throw
But what I want to know
Is can the Mantei his shoes on?
I won’t foretell which stars this year will shine
Astrology’s for those who study charts
And reading cards takes braver minds than mine
To say which clubs have diamonds in their hearts.
I won’t predict if pinstripes will prevail
Against the green and golden dreams of youth
Or if when mighty mariners set sail
They’ll find upon the seas some central truth.
For truth, and beauty, spring forward as twins,
Revealed to us in pairs, slowly, unplanned,
Exposed through time by constant waves and winds
Like buried pirate treasure under sand.
Foreknowledge can help simplify the game,
But life is best when mysteries remain.
The grounds crew has caused a sensation
That has swept right across our nation
A raining dead bird
May sound absurd
But it’s the latest in fertilization.
There certainly is no excusing
The year after year of just losing.
So to show that we cared
We retained Allard Baird!
The Royals: We’re simply A-Muse-Ing!
Are Selig and Ken Lay akin?
No, Ken’s is the deadlier sin.
For it’s better to profit
And claim to lose off it,
Than to lose and pretend that you win.
Saguaros, arms raised,
Reach for the desert spring sky
Dreaming, “I got it!”
The Expos new deal will be struck
They’ll play this year as a lame duck
All the fans in Quebec
Wonder when in the heck
Is the ref gonna drop that dang puck?
The Steeltowners got just desserts
For bragging like Yank fans, and worse.
Now the Pats fans are posting;
Lord help us the boasting
If the Babe ever lifted his curse.
Rockies in winter
Covered in a snowy fog
Future is unclear.
There was a young GM named Dan
Who just couldn’t stick with a plan.
He got so refined
At changing his mind
His schemes ended before they began.
is a radioactive
with an imperceptible
can be climbed
like a long stairway
before the call
to come in for dinner
makes the invisible runner
standing on the second base bag
become a beat-up old glove lying out in the street
not even a
to the ancestors.
forgets mother earth
for lack of roots.
the glorified leaves
crumble in the dry wind. the wood
can only sprout
a baseball is born
shiny and smooth
as a baby's cheek
a perfect sphere
in straight lines
a single bloody scar
This is Ken Arneson's blog about baseball, brains, art, science, technology, philosophy, poetry, politics and whatever else Ken Arneson feels like writing about