Somehow brought up
on the rules of the game
Somehow brought up
to the plate
Somehow brought up
to look straight in the eye
Somehow brought up
to lead off the base
Somehow brought up
to field ground balls
Somehow brought up
to think on the fly
Somehow brought up
alone
— Mark Butkus
fun word play,
ReplyDeleteHappy Rally.
I was pinch-hitting on this one!
ReplyDeleteWhat a sad ending!!! :(
ReplyDeletehttp://lynnaima.wordpress.com/2011/11/19/personae/
keep it up.
ReplyDeletevisit 18 poets from your peers, let us know after you are done.
:)
lynnaima,
ReplyDeleteSad? Really?
I was hopeful that it offered possibilities. That even though some are dealt losing hands in life, in childhood, one can rise beyond their circumstance, their environment, even if done alone.
Yes, I agree with your response-- there is an open door ahead. Nice write!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Marilyn. Yes, there is always a door ahead.
ReplyDeleteinvite you to join poetry picnic today, simply share a relevant or a random piece, and enjoy!
ReplyDeleteHappy Thanksgiving,
Always, your presence is sunshine to us.
Best Wishes!
your talent rocks.
xoxox
I'm in!
ReplyDelete#77 with a bullet!
Lots of good reading this week.
This appealed to all of my emotions
ReplyDeleteMeethimirchi, I'm glad that it resonated with you.
ReplyDeleteThere is sadness but also resilience. The repitition gives it depth. Don't know how you managed that but it works really well. Well done.
ReplyDeleteyou know all the happy baseball thoughts got snuffed like a candle with that last word...made my stomach clench and think of disconnected fathers...
ReplyDeleteBrian, there is a definite disconnect, a disconnect where both parties - father and son - lose out on tender moments shared.
ReplyDeleteAdura Ojo,
ReplyDeleteThank you. We are nothing if not resilient.
Somehow brought up
ReplyDeletealone ...this made me sad and moved me. a hard truth.
alone
ReplyDeleteThat last word made my stomach clench. All through the poem, my thoughts were on team and companionship. That last word made me realize that being raised to fulfill a parent's dream is a lonely state and is the focus of your poem.
Wonderful use of repetition as a poetic device with a twist at the end that no one will forget.
Beth
our past need not dictate the future...
ReplyDeletei find this to be quite inspiring.. much enjoyed this!!
lynne
thewordbar.wordpress.com
ugh..your ending ended the flight abruptly... well penned mark
ReplyDeleteAll the quality of being alone.. and survive... I enjoyed this very much.
ReplyDeleteShashi
ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/11/whispers-sighs.html
At Twitter @VerseEveryDay
Raised by a succession of stepfathers,
ReplyDeleteI trotted along the stanzas as an
outrider, but the last lines zeroed
in on the truth, and I recognized
myself in the piece; nice work.
A sadly familiar story. Great grand slam ending!
ReplyDeletehttp://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2011/12/11/mostly-about-the-past/
wow!!! that ending knocked me off my chair :( how sad!
ReplyDeleteenjoy the gooseberry day!
http://lynnaima.wordpress.com/2011/12/12/a-dream-and-a-whisper/
some sad reality check, well done.
ReplyDelete:)
At this time of year, for some the loneliest time of the year, it would be nice if no one was alone. Regardless of how we were brought up.
ReplyDelete