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(Mike Allen)
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To Honor The Season by Andy Bowen

Every spring we play ball
From the Dodgers to the Sox
We never keep score.

When the grass is green
Enough to stain the laces,
My cleats will dig in.

Where did I leave it?
My glove! Have you seen my glove!
There’s a game tonight!

Dad throws underhand.
Little boy throws over hand.
No one catches it.

The bleachers are hot!
So are the dogs and pretzels.
But the beer is cold.

Mom unzips the bag.
The smell defies poetry.
Jr. learns laundry.

“GO GO GO GO GO!!!
WHAT ARE YOU BLIND? HE WAS SAFE!”
“Honey, please sit down.”

Stare, throw, swing, crack, run.
Don’t take your eyes off first base.
Gonna have to slide!

Dog pile on the mound.
Everyone gets a trophy.
“No thanks. You keep it.”


 

The group Short Order Poems attended the NonDoc “launch party” on Sept. 10. Here are six poems they created on the spot and on their typewriters.

 


(Editor’s Note: To submit poetry, prose, short stories, art or other creative writing for Sunday Funday, please write to editorial@nondoc.com.)