Friday, May 06, 2016

Poetry Seven Write Tritinas

This month the Poetry Seven crew wrote in the form of the tritina. The tritina is composed of 3 tercets and a final line (envoi) that stands alone. Similar to a sestina, though shorter, it uses a set of 3 alternating end words instead of six. The form is: ABC / CAB / BCA / A, B, and C (final line/envoi).

The words we chose from were selected by Tanita. They were:
sweet, cold, stone, hope, mouth, thread

I think repeating words are hard, so this took some thought. However, it was the final line using all three words at once that proved to be the real challenge. I wrote two poems for this form. The first is a bit melancholy, but that always happens to me at this time of the year. My father’s birthday was yesterday (the 5th). He would have been 90 this year. And tomorrow (the 7th) is the 7th anniversary of his death, so he’s been much on my mind as of late. Therefore, the first poem is for/about him. The second is much lighter.

Without further ado, my tritinas.

Tritina #1 

My father pulled the hook from the mouth
of the bass. I touched its cold
scales, the thrill of catching it sweet.

Memories of my father are sweet,
though sometimes I imagine him, mouth
agape, my mother at his side touching his cold

hands. At the end, the world went cold.
There was nothing sweet
in death. My heart and mouth

slammed shut. Now I fish alone--no dad, no largemouth--just cold, sweet stillness.


Tritina #2

Speed Dating Introduction ... A 30-Second Tritina

I relish the smoothness of a stone
worn by water, the sweet
smell of freshly mown grass, the cold

slide of ice cream down my throat. I long for winter cold,
summer sun, the skipping of a stone
across the lake, that first buttery taste of sweet

corn. I believe in the sweet
hereafter, going cold
turkey, that some things are set in stone.

I’m stone cold sober, so lay some sweet lines on me.

Poems ©Tricia Stohr-Hunt, 2016. All rights reserved.

You can read the poems written by my Poetry Seven compatriots at the links below.
I do hope you'll take some time to check out all the wonderful poetic things being shared and collected today by Sylvia Vardell at Poetry for Children. Happy poetry Friday friends!

Thursday, May 05, 2016

You Can Fly with the Weatherfords

When I was young and learned my father served in the Naval Air Corps during WWII, I became a voracious reader of anything and everything about the war, including the Holocaust, Pearl Harbor, Jackie Robinson, Rosie the Riveter, the WACs, and more. What I didn't find were stories about the Tuskegee Airmen. My young self would have been as thrilled as I am today with the release of an amazing poetry collection entitled You Can Fly: The Tuskegee Airmen, written by Carole Boston Weatherford and illustrated by Jeffery Boston Weatherford.
You Can Fly: The Tuskegee Airmen is a collaboration between award-winning children’s book author Carole Boston Weatherford and her son, debut illustrator Jeffery Boston Weatherford. They have woven poems and scratchboard illustrations into a history in verse inspired as much by World War II newsreels as by modern day graphic novels. The project was nearly ten years in the making. With starred reviews in Kirkus and Publisher’s Weekly, the book for middle grades is off to a flying start.

Here the mother-son/author-illustrator team interview each other.

Carole: When did you first hear about the Tuskegee Airmen?
Jeffery: I first heard about them when I was a young boy. We took family trips to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum in Washington and to Tuskegee Institute, Alabama where we toured exhibits about the Tuskegee University’s founder Booker T. Washington, botanist George Washington Carver and the Tuskegee Airmen. I always had dreams of flight.

Jeffery: Why did you want to write this book?
Carole: I first learned of the Tuskegee Airmen in a magazine article in the 1980s. I was so moved by their story that I saved the magazine. My literary mission is to mine the past for family stories, fading traditions and forgotten struggles. The Airmen’s saga is historically and politically significant. As a children’s literature professor, I knew of at least one historical fiction picture book and of several informational books about the Tuskegee Airmen. I felt that the story would lend itself well to a poetic treatment.

Carole: Tell us about your family’s military ties?
Jeffery: My great great great grandfather Isaac Copper fought in the U.S. Colored Troops during the Civil War. He was one of 17 veterans who founded the town of Unionville on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. My mother’s father Joseph Boston Jr. served in World War II. He was a technical sergeant in the Army Corps of Engineers in New Guinea and the Philippines. My grandmother still has his uniform and medals.

Jeffery: Which poem was most challenging to write?
Carole: “Operation Prove Them Wrong” was by far the toughest to write. It was like plotting scenes for a war movie. I had to boil down Operation Corkscrew and Operation Diadem to a few lines that captured the battles. It might have been easier if I were gamer like you or at least a World War II buff.

Carole: You were a serious gamer growing up. Did your background as a gamer influence how you illustrated the battle scenes?  
Jeffery: Yes, absolutely. I had lots of residual visual references from battles across galaxies.

Jeffery: What is your favorite illustration from the book?
Carole: I like the one opposite the poem “Routines.” It shows a dogfight in which one plane gets bombed and explodes. The explosion is quite animated, like something out of a comic book. I almost want to add an action bubble: Boom!

Carole: Describe your creative process.
Jeffery: For inspiration, I viewed documentary photographs from the Library of Congress and National Archives collections. While researching picture references, I had some dreams of meeting Tuskegee Airmen. I also watched the movie Red Tails. For each illustration, I drew a graphite study to layout the composition. Once that was completed and approved by the publisher, I refined the image and transferred it to scratchboard. I used various nibs for different effects.
Jeffery with Airman portrait

Jeffery: What do you want readers to take away from the book?
Carole: I want them to be inspired by the courage and determination of the Tuskegee Airmen. I want them to understand that the sky is no limit if they are willing to prepare themselves, practice and persevere. The book aims to lift the ceiling off of young people’s dreams. 
P-51 Mustangs flying in formation over Ramitelli, Italy.

Did you know? The Tuskegee Airmen got the name Red Tails when their ground crew painted the tail of the P-47 red.

WWII by the numbers: Before the Tuskegee Experiment began, there were only 130 licensed African American pilots in the U.S.

Here's one of my favorite poems from the book.

Train Ride to the Clouds

All aboard for Tuskegee Institute,
where Booker T. Washington uplifted ex-slaves
and George Washington Carver 
is working wonders with sweet potatoes!

If Carver can make paint
from clay and plastics from soy,
then the school Booker T. founded
can surely make you a pilot.

If you did not believe that were true
you would not have packed your bag 
and boarded the train for Alabama
with a Bible and a box lunch from your mama.

If your faith were not vast as the sky,
you would never have taken this leap.

Poem © Carole Boston Weatherford, 2016. All rights reserved.

The poems in this volume are moving, vivid, and packed with information.  The poem in the Epilogue describes the race barrier breaking moments that came after the Tuskegee Airmen paved the way for integration of the U.S. military. The backmatter includes an author's note, timeline, and extensive list of additional resources and primary sources. 

You can find helpful teacher resources for this work at: https://cbweatherford.com/books/youcanfly/teacher-resources/

*****
My thanks to Carole and Jeffery for sharing their conversation and their work. You Can Fly: The Tuskegee Airmen was released on May 3rd and is available now. Don't miss it!

Monday, May 02, 2016

Monday Poetry Stretch - Ae freslige

Today I'm sharing a form known as ae freslige. Some say it's Irish, others Celtic. Some spell it ae freslige, other ae freslighe. There are even different descriptions of the form. Here are two I've seen.

From The Shapes of Our Singing, by Robin Skelton:
The Ae Freslige may be summarised as follows: the numbers in the brackets indicating th enumber of syllables in the last word of the line:
     Syllables:     7(3)     7(2)     7(3)     7(2)
     End rhymes:  A         B          A         B

From The Poets Garret:
Each stanza is a quatrain of seven syllables. Lines one and three rhyme with a triple (three syllable) rhyme and two and four use a double (two syllable) rhyme. As was stated earlier. the poem should end with the first syllable word or the complete line that it began with.
x x x x (x x a)
x x x x x (x b)
x x x x (x x a)
x x x x x (x b)

I hope you'll join me today in writing some version of an ae freslige. I love the added challenge provided in the form as escribed by The Poets Garret. Please share a link to your poem or the poem itself in the comments.

Saturday, April 30, 2016

NPM Celebrations - National Adopt a Shelter Pet Day

April 30th is National Adopt a Shelter Pet Day. This day was created to raise awareness of the thousands of pets living in shelters that are waiting for adoption and permanent homes.

As I write this post my buddy Cooper, our latest rescue dog, is on the couch beside me snoring away. His predecessor was also rescued from a shelter. We were fortunate to call Sydney ours for nearly 16 years. When she was put to sleep, I swore it would be a long time before another one graced our doorstep. I lasted all of one month before needing to fill the space she left in our lives. All of you pet lovers out there know what I'm talking about.

Today I'm sharing poems about some pets lucky enough to find their forever homes.

Stella, Unleashed: Notes From the Doghouse (2008), written by Linda Ashman and illustrated by Paul Meisel, is a collection of poems told from the point of view of Stella, a dog rescued from the pound and brought to live with a family. The poems cover topics as varied as her rescue from the pound, selecting a name, the family members, other pets, eating, sleeping, the dog park, and more.

Lost & Found

Metal bars.
A cold, hard floor.
No window seat.
No doggy door.

Countless strangers come to call—
I listened,
watched,
and sniffed them all . . .

then turned away
and curled up tight
Nice enough but not quite right.

Then, one day, I sniffed a sniff
and got the most delightful whiff:
dirt and candy, grass and cake.
I stuck my paw out for a shake.

A boy knelt down.
I licked his face.
He rubbed my head.
I'd found my place.

That's how I chose this family.
Not perfect, no.

Except for me.

**
Water!

I swim in the ocean,
no matter how rough.
In rivers and lakes
I can't get enough!

When I see a pool,
I dive like a sub.
I LOVE the water
but not in the tub.

Poems ©Linda Ashman, 2008. All rights reserved.

Won Ton: A Cat Tale Told in Haiku, written by Lee Wardlaw and illustrated by Eugene Yelchin, is the story of a shelter cat and how she acclimates to her new home, told entirely in senryu. Won Ton's story is divided into sections, including The Shelter, The Choosing, The Car Ride, The Naming, The New Place, The Feeding, The Adjustment, The Yard, and Home.

No rush. I've got plans.
Gnaw this paw. Nip that flea. And
wish: Please, Boy, pick me.

Dogs have hair. Cats, fur.
Dogs whine, yip, howl, bark. Cats purr.
I say: No contest.

Scrat-ching-post? Haven't
heard of it. Besides, the couch
is so much closer.

Poems ©Lee Wardlaw, 2011. All rights reserved.

Won Ton and Chopstick: A Cat and Dog Tale Told in Haiku (2015), written by Lee Wardlaw and illustrated by Eugene Yelchin, is the sequel to Won Ton: A Cat Tale Told in Haiku. In it, Won Ton again narrated and shares with readers what life is like with a new and annoying puppy in the house.

Ears perk. Fur prickles.
Belly low, I creep . . . peek . . . FREEZE!
My eyes full of Doom.

Don't bother barking
your real name. I've already
guessed. It must be . . . Pest!

Breaking news: YOU SNORE.
Twitch and whimper too. Yet you
make a soft pillow.

Poems ©Lee Wardlaw, 2015. All rights reserved.

Dogku (2007), written by Andrew Clements and illustrated by Tim Bowers, is the story of a stray dog told through a series of 17 haiku. While not about a shelter dog, it is about a pet in need of a home. The story begins with this poem.

There on the back steps,
the eyes of a hungry dog.
Will she shut the door?

The door is opened and the dog welcomed in. Eventually he earns the name Mooch and becomes a part of the family. Here are two additional poems.

Scratch, sniff, eat, yawn, nap.
Dreams of rabbits and running.
Could life be sweeter?

Family meeting.
There are words and words and words.
Did someone say "pound"?

Poems ©Andrew Clements, 2007. All rights reserved.

The PBS series Martha Speaks produced a nice list of books about dogs, including shelter dogs.
Well, that's a wrap for this year's National Poetry Month project. I hope you've enjoyed exploring celebrations with me. Check out the NPM 2016 Celebrations page for a complete listing of this month's posts. 

Friday, April 29, 2016

NPM Celebrations - Arbor Day

April 29th is Arbor Day, a day dedicated annually to public tree-planting in the US, Australia, and other countries. In the United States it is celebrated on the last Friday in April. Trees are so important. They provide us with two things we cannot live without: food and oxygen. They also offer the added benefit of serving as a source for shelter, beauty, and a wealth of wood products.

Just how many trees are there in the world?
In thinking about trees today, I'm sharing snippets of poems in a form borrowed from Wallace Stevens. You'll recognize it as Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Trees

I.
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

From Trees by Joyce Kilmer


II.
Trees know the soft secrets of clouds
       the dark siftings of soil
The hear the high keening of squalls
           the deep rumbling of rocks
Trees whisper for the sky's damp blessings
       and the earth's misty kisses

From Go-Betweens by Marilyn Singer
in Footprints on the Roof: Poems About the Earth, written by Marilyn Singer and illustrated by Meilo So 


III.
Trees need not walk the earth
For beauty or for bread;
Beauty will come to them
In the rainbow—
The sunlight—
And the lilac-haunted rain;
And bread will come to them

From Trees Need Not Walk the Earth by David Rosenthal


IV.
Major tree traffic today—
commuters in both directions,

rippling up and down,
tails unfurled.

The treeway is
heavily squirreled.

Tree Traffic by Kristine O'Connell George
in Old Elm Speaks: Tree Poems, written by Kristine O'Connell George and illustrated by Kate Kiesler


V.
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
he recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

From The Trees by Philip Larkin
in The Collected Poems, written by Philip Larkin and edited by Anthony Thwaite 


VI.
The cherry trees bend over and are shedding
On the old road where all that passed are dead,
Their petals, strewing the grass as for a wedding
This early May morn when there is none to wed.

From The Cherry Trees by Edward Thomas


VII.
Buds, which the breath of summer days
Shall lengthen into leafy sprays;
Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast,
Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest;

From The Planting of the Apple-Tree by William Cullen Bryant


VIII.
O white pear,
your flower-tufts,
thick on the branch,
bring summer and ripe fruits
in their purple hearts.

From Pear Tree by H.D.


IX.
This is the way that autumn came to the trees:
it stripped them down to the skin,
left their ebony bodies naked.
It shook out their hearts, the yellow leaves,
scattered them over the ground.
Anyone could trample them out of shape
undisturbed by a single moan of protest.

From When Autumn Came by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
in The True Subject: Selected Poems of Faiz Ahmed Faiz, translated by Naomi Lazard


X.
Thus having prepared their buds
against a sure winter
the wise trees
stand sleeping in the cold.

From Winter Trees by William Carlos Williams


XI.
Years love trees in a way we can’t
imagine. They just don’t use the fruit
like us; they want instead the slant

of sun through narrow branches, the buckshot
of rain on these old cherries.

From Remaking a Neglected Orchard by Nathaniel Perry


XII.
Think finally about the secret will
Pretending obedience to Nature, but
Invidiously distinguishing everywhere,
Dividing up the world to conquer it,

From Learning the Trees by Howard Nemerov
in The Collected Poems of Howard Nemerov, written by Howard Nemerov


XIII.
With strong and graceful outline,
With branches green and bare,
We fill the land through all the year,
With beauty everywhere.

From The Heart of the Tree by Henry Cuyler Bunner


Here's a handout of poems about trees from the Arbor Day Foundation.
I've written about trees and poetry before. Check out my Thematic Book List on Trees. (You'll find poetry books at the very top.)

That's it for today. I hope you'll join me tomorrow for our last celebration of the month. I can't believe it's almost done.

Poetry Friday - Cartoon Physics, part 1

Last week I shared the poem After Reading a Child's Guide to Modern Physics by W.H. Auden. I'm still thinking about physics and poetry this week.

Cartoon Physics, part 1
by Nick Flynn

Children under, say, ten, shouldn't know
that the universe is ever-expanding,
inexorably pushing into the vacuum, galaxies

swallowed by galaxies, whole

solar systems collapsing, all of it
acted out in silence. At ten we are still learning

the rules of cartoon animation,

     Read the poem in its entirety.


If you haven't been here before, or haven't been following my National Poetry Month project, here are the posts from this week. Feel free to poke around.

24 - Sky Awareness Week
25 - World Penguin Day
26 - Richter Scale Day
27 - Babe Ruth Day
28 - National Blueberry Pie Day
29 - Arbor Day

I do hope you'll take some time to check out all the wonderful poetic things being shared and collected today by Buffy Silverman at Buffy's Blog. Happy poetry Friday friends!

Thursday, April 28, 2016

NPM Celebrations - National Blueberry Pie Day

April 28th is National Blueberry Pie Day. I am not a fruit pie lover (sorry!), but I do adore the blueberry. Last summer I heard a terrific story on NPR about blueberry history in New Jersey and how the blueberry was bred and "tamed" into the version we all know so well today. You can hear that story at How New Jersey Tamed The Wild Blueberry For Global Production.

I buy my blueberries when they are available at my local farmer's market. I'm lucky if I can get them home before popping one after another into my mouth. And really, isn't that what you want to do with sweet, fresh, juicy fruit?

Fresh Delicious (2016), written by Irene Latham and illustrated by Mique Moriuchi, is a collection of 20 poems (21 if you count the back cover) about the farmer's market and the amazing array of produce you can find there.

Blueberries

Blueberries
are sweet
but not
too
sweet.

One fits
perfectly
between
finger
and thumb.

They burst
like flavor-filled
fireworks
in waffles
and muffins.

Poem © Irene Latham, 2016. All rights reserved.

Yum! ¡Mmmm! ¡Qué Rico!: America's Sproutings (2009), written by Pat Mora and illustrated by Rafael López, is a book that combines factual information about edible plants native to the Americas with crisp, sense-filled poems, all in the form of haiku. The foods are listed alphabetically, beginning with blueberry and ending with vanilla.

Blueberry

Fill your mouth with blue.
Share a bowl heaped with summer.
Chew indigo O.

*****
Blueberries are delicious, healthy treats. Originating in North America, they were eaten fresh and dried by Native Americans. They also ground blueberries into spice rubs and used the berries in medicines. European settlers in North America made gray paint by boiling blueberries in milk, and today the United States is the largest producer of blueberries in the world. Wild blueberries, the official state berry of Maine, are sometimes harvested using traditional handheld rakes. Plan a blueberry party in July, National Blueberry Month.

Poem and Text © Pat Mora, 2009. All rights reserved.

Here's a long and lovely poem by Robert Frost.

Blueberries
by Robert Frost

 “You ought to have seen what I saw on my way
To the village, through Mortenson’s pasture to-day:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
In the cavernous pail of the first one to come!        
And all ripe together, not some of them green
And some of them ripe! You ought to have seen!”

Read the poem in its entirety.

Lettuce Introduce You: Poems about Food (2008), written by Laura Purdie Salas, is a collection of  food-themed poems that are written in a variety of poetic forms. Each poem is accompanied by a vibrant photograph. Next to blueberries in my hand, this poem describes my favorite way to eat them.

Too Early!

Mom says to wake up
     I don't want to
It's the middle of the night
Right?

     Wrong

Dad makes me a
"Cheer up!" waffle-boy
with blueberry eyes and
a fresh citrus smile

     What's he so happy about?

Poem © Laura Purdie Salas, 2008. All rights reserved.

In addition to blueberries on and in my pancakes, I do love a good blueberry muffin. My favorite recipe is this one for Jordan Marsh's Blueberry Muffins.

This last poem isn't really about blueberries, but the imagery reminds me of them.

Blackberry Ink (1985), written by Eve Merriam and illustrated by Hans Wilhelm, is a collection of poem for young children on a wide range of topics.

Berries on the bushes
In the summer sun.
Bring along a bucket
And pluck every one.

Look at my teeth,
They're raspberry red.
Look at my fingers,
They're strawberry pink.
Look at my mouth,
It's huckleberry purple.
Look at my tongue,
It's blackberry ink.

Poem © Eve Merriam, 1985. All rights reserved.

That's it for today. I hope you'll join me tomorrow for our next celebration.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

NPM Celebrations - Babe Ruth Day

April 27th is Babe Ruth Day. On April 27, 1947, the Yankees hosted Babe Ruth Day at Yankee Stadium. The event was held to honor the ailing baseball star, who was in failing health due to throat cancer. You can read the New York Times article from the following day at On This Day.

George Herman Ruth, Jr. (1895-1948), best known as "Babe" Ruth, was an American baseball player who spent 22 seasons in Major League Baseball playing for three different teams, the Boston Red Sox, the New York Yankees, and the Boston Braves.

One of my favorite baseball movies is The Sandlot (1993). Here's a favorite scene side-by-side with the NY Yankees, in a commercial they did for the opening of the 2015 season. In it, the boys school their friend on just who Babe Ruth was.
You can learn more about this commercial in this Inside Edition video.

Let's start today with a poem sent to me by J. Patrick Lewis for this month's project.

The Battle Hymn of the Babe
by J. Patrick Lewis

George Herman "Babe" Ruth, Jr.
1895 – 1948

[Note:  To be sung to “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”]

He’s American as Jell-o, apple pie, and ice cream cones.
He’s synonymous with magic, miracles, and milestones.
He’s the nemesis of Beantown where they hate him in their bones.
Babe Ruth is marching on.

Watch him nonchalantly waving, as he steps up to the plate,
To the spectators applauding for the Yankee head of state.
Will the Sultan swat one out today? They won’t have long to wait.
Babe Ruth is marching on.

The pitcher eyes him cruelly, the Bambino eyes him back,
Like a bike with training wheels up against a Cadillac.
When he points a warning finger at the useless warning track,
Babe Ruth is marching on.

He swings so hard you almost feel sorry for the air.
The second strike is in the dirt. The Babe? He doesn’t care.
But the umpire shrinks a little from the heat wave of his glare.
Babe Ruth is marching on.

Now here it comes, the best forkball the pitcher’s thrown all year . . .
Rainbowing to the right-field bleachers as a souvenir.
That pill could make it hail throughout the Western hemisphere.
Babe Ruth is marching on.

Poem © J. Patrick Lewis, 2016. All rights reserved.

Pat may not remember this, but he also sent me a baseball poem back in 2008. It's one of my favorite baseball poems.

A Baseball Poem
by J. Patrick Lewis

A baseball poem
should swerve
like a sidearm curve

or tease a designated reader
with sublime
off-rhyme.

A baseball poem
should be as unexpected, say,
as an undetected
squeeze play

or explode like a six-run
bonanza and a grand slam
into the leftfield stanza.

Poem © J. Patrick Lewis, 2008. All rights reserved.


When I think of baseball poems in general, three come to mind.

1. Every year when spring training begins and on opening day, I read the poem Analysis of Baseball by May Swenson. Here's how it begins.
It’s about                
the ball,                  
the bat,                                    
and the mitt.
Ball hits                    
bat, or it                  
hits mitt. 
Read the poem in its entirety
2. This poem that I memorized in middle school. It ends this way.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.
If you don't recognize it, the poem is Casey at the Bat by Ernest Lawrence Thayer.

3. I'm also quite fond of this poem by Ogden Nash. Line-Up for Yesterday: An ABC of Baseball Immortals was written for the January 1949 issue of SPORT Magazine. The poem pays tribute to 24 of the games greatest players. Here's how it begins.
A is for Alex
The great Alexander;
More Goose eggs he pitched
Than a popular gander. 
B is for Bresnahan
Back of the plate;
The Cubs were his love,
and McGraw his hate. 
C is for Cobb,
Who grew spikes and not corn,
And made all the basemen
Wish they weren't born. 
Read the poem in its entirety.
Creative Editions published this poem, illustrated by C.F. Payne in 2001.

I'll wrap up with this poem by Franklin Pierce Adams.

A Ballad of Baseball Burdens
by Franklin Pierce Adams

The burden of hard hitting. Slug away
      Like Honus Wagner or like Tyrus Cobb.
Else fandom shouteth: “Who said you could play?
      Back to the jasper league, you minor slob!”
      Swat, hit, connect, line out, get on the job.
Else you shall feel the brunt of fandom’s ire
      Biff, bang it, clout it, hit it on the knob—
This is the end of every fan’s desire.  

Read the poem in its entirety.

I've written numerous times about my love for baseball and about baseball poetry. Check out the post Poetry in the Classroom: Take Me Out To the Ballgame from 2011 and Poetry A-Z: Day 27 ... Baseball from 2013.

You'll also find a wealth of baseball poems at the Baseball Almanac. Be sure to check out the poem Frosty and the Babe by John Robert McFarland.

I'm ending today with this gem.

That's it for today. I hope you'll join me tomorrow for our next celebration.