Baseball


Opening day, it’s now time to play the game found in cornfields and parks.
American way, a game that will stay, the home run you want before dark.

Hammering’ Hank, Mickey, the Yankee Clipper, Smokey Joe, and all the greats,
brings every little boy hopes and dreams as he enters for the first time their gates.

DiMaggio and Galvin echoes at the bat as America starts the baseball season’s fun.
Major Leagues, Minors, town teams and little leagues all strive for the famous home run.

A moment of summer in sweltering heat, the sun changes position at your back,
Let’s cheer our team and share a time of America with peanuts in a paper sack.

One, Two, Three Strikes “You’re Out”, they yell as another approaches the bat.
Root toot, toot for the home team, as the dust cloud forms at the mat…

copyrighted: 2001 CMM

Summer Dreams


A little boy sits quietly at his desk
the summer breeze blows the curtain
from the window pane…

He has become unaware of the snapping of the clothes
on the line from the hot Midwest breeze,
the distant trains breaking the sounds as they clack through towns.

He fingers his baseball glove, following his imagination,
of diamonds that glitter from home runs
and glistens from sunsets after loaded bases.

The smell of leather takes him to locker rooms,
sounds of cheers with
the snapping this time of baseball bats hitting the ball.

Symphony sounds that make up dreams
that feed the body and soul of the little boy
at his desk, freckled face; looking past.

Past the ‘Hopalong Cassidy’ lamp sitting on his desk,
past the plaid sheets spreading his bed,
past the books that pile in waiting for homework.

He imagines all sounds real with promises;
“What a home run that was!”
“What a pitcher I am!”

Swirling winds of dreams of a little boy
at his desk, in his room,
in the Midwest…dreaming baseball.

Copyrighted: 2001 CMM

(Dedicated to a friend who played in the Minor Leagues, wrote of baseball and ethics.
RIP 2012.  Also, to my son who loved the game of baseball.

Intelligence


Intelligence

Einstein played with imagination and sought

deep in reason, deep in thought.

No one to match his statistical mind

no one dead or alive, so far in time.

Mozart’s fingers crossed over the keys,

giving them melody and symphonies.

Practiced till his days were long

celebrated now in concert and song.

Freud who delved deep in the mind,

knew he had found the perplexed kind.

The id, Ego, and Super Ego distinct

put them together, the missing links.

Yet we look for original thought,

seeking harshly by scientist wrought.

Brilliant in their ways of thinking

only disappear among the sinking.

What is to say, what is smart,

if we only finish with what we start?

Or apply what is already known,

moving an inch from where its grown.

Time and space and Neanderthal man

has carried history from where it began.

Intelligent mind and the brain has grown,

yet still with intellect so little is known.

Copyrighted:  CMM  June 2007IMG_2290