View Full Version : My 2005 World Series Poem

03-28-2007, 07:28 PM
Various colors of the spectrum explode in the sky
One after the other as the mob roots onward.
“Na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye!”
The mob sings in tandem with the organ.
Qualls is relieved of his duties.
The side is retired heading for the eight.

Later in the ninth….
Jenks get’s the call from the penn.
Things have gotten out of hand.
Second and third, two outs, Viscaino at the plate.
The ball’s pushed into left, one run scores,
Another runner is waved home.
Podsednik scoops it, and fires.
Play at the plate, SAFE!
The gangs are even
The cheers turn to groans.

Onto the ninth…
Podsednik strolls to the box with a
Stoic, detached expression.
“Man swings his stick like
It were the dead ball era.”
Many think, with a single on their minds.

The unexpected happens…
Into the crisp wind, the little
Orb sails, splitting each falling

The mob in the stands hug
Their loved ones and touch
Hands with strangers, like at
Sunday mass.
The mob on the field jumps with pride.