How about some baseball haiku in honor of the World Series?
extra innings
a runner’s shadow
down the third base line
sunday afternoon
as the ball game ends
geese return to the outfield
Does anyone have baseball haiku to share that’s not from the Norton Anthology?
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little league cast-offs
coached by a black bus driver
magic summer
World Series!
running home after school because
this is the Dodger’s year!
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Fans’ hands are wringing
GM’s phones are not ringing
Another day gone
Money is flowing
Agents and players waiting
For someone to call
The seats are empty
The players are all healing
New season coming
my fifty-third spring
once again I carefully
oil up the old mitt
(Baseball Hall of Fame Haiku Contest, 2003 — one of six winners)
ball game
the peanut vendor’s tosses
accurate as ever
(Fenway Park, Sept.,, 2013)
national anthem
the boys on the scoreboard
stand at attention
Can’t remember who wrote this one, but I love it!
Garry
boarded-up ballpark
a dust devil swirls
along a base line
Yay, BoSox!
Message:
crack of a bat
the hot dog boy
ignores my wave
Frogpond “Seasoned Haiku” Nov. 1990
republished:
WHA Anthology 2001
Haijinx Vol. 1, No. 2 (2001)
Peeling an Orange, haiku by Peggy Heinrich with photographs by John Bolivar, MET Press, 2009
the pitcher spits
the natter spits
the umpire spits
the breeze off the bat
clearing the dust in the air
from the catcher’s mitt
– Voice of the River Valley (April 2013)
gnats in a tizzy…
older brother
takes the mound
-The Heron’s Nest
old-timer
his strike zone
shrinking
Modern Haiku XXXV.3 (2004)
stealing second base—
the middle of a rainbow
lost among storm clouds
Cherie Hunter Day
7th Annual Mainichi Haiku Contest – honorable Mention (July 2003)
1/
spring practice
—
a baseball lost in the summer grass
2/
a long way
before the horizon ends–
the outfield chases the ball
1 first published in Haiku Canada Review (Feb 2012) and 2 from Zillah (Sep 2005).
A long time ago, when I was a first-year teacher of a primary class for children with special emotional and learning needs, an older Kindergarten teacher observed my class on the playground, and said in a very kind way, “Your children don’t know how to play.” The principal, staff, and parents welcomed the new program with so much support – the early days of special education.
Recess was one of the hardest classes. I was taught to teach them reading etc. We would learn to play together too. The children all had special gifts as well.
So, I’ll try a haiku for today’s theme. I imagine this is a common memory.
watching the game
memories of being
the last chosen
Ellen
another strikeout
the hometown announcer
mutters ‘shit’…
birthday picnic—
grandma’s throw
half way to the toddler
cows in the outfield—
country little leaguers
waiting in the rain
home from work—
a scuffed baseball
among shards of glass
tail gate party—
playing catch
with an empty bottle
in the upper bleacher
a stranger waves
at another stranger
runner off first the pitcher’s tight jaw
seventh-inning stretch
dust
on the catcher’s knees
pop fly sound of clapping chairs
rolling down the ballpark steps
a paper bag
the shape of a bottle
last out—
my candy bar wrapper
falls under the seat
these are great!
rain patter
the infield
goes silent
-michele l. Harvey
Published: Moonset,
Johnny Baranski,Guest Editor,
Spring/Summer 2010
warm beer—
heat lightning flickers
beyond the outfield
Frogpond XXVII:2 (2004)
nearly dark—
snow deepens
on the baseball field
Acorn 15 (2005); Runner-up for December, The Haiku Calendar 2007 (Snapshot Press)
the pitcher’s focus—
just a mitt and a ball
at its diamond center
(spring 04′, Spitball Magazine)
youth league strikeout —
the batter’s baby sister
calls the ump — dummy
( spring 04′, Spitball Magazine)
first gone grand slam —
her father retrieves the ball
for a keepsake
(spring 04′, Spitball Magazine)
dying sun
a sacrifice fly
holds the light
the world series –
think about it
america
#baseball #haiku