Luke Holm earned bachelor degrees in English and Philosophy from NIU. He is a middle school teacher and a creative writer.
First to Arrive
Stretching under fading light,
laces looped, tied up tight,
bat and ball hand in hand
preparing for the game tonight.
Flooded with false foresight
a boy prepares to fight despite
the field being a ghostly grandstand.
When will the team reunite?
On the mound, center spotlight
he practices pitching, deducing the height
and depth of the plate judged as strikeland,
a place surrounded by subjective sight.
Nearly freezing Fahrenheit,
he steps to bat, American’s birthright.
Imagining the cheering fans,
set to blast like dynamite.
Tossing the ball, prepared to smite,
he swung the bat with all his might
doling out fated reprimand,
and making the sphere a satellite.
He played alone into the night
no longer caring or giving a shite,
his greatest game, better than planned,
the sort of story people write.
© 2017 JourneyHolm
JourneyHolm (author) on July 29, 2017:
Thank you for reading my poem, Jodah. Don't feel too bad. A poem was written about him after all ;)
JourneyHolm (author) on January 23, 2017:
Thanks for the review, Jodah! I wouldn't feel too bad for him, as being content with one's self is part of our journey here on this blue-green (soon to be blue-brown) planet. Have a great week, friend.
John Hansen from Gondwana Land on January 23, 2017:
I enjoyed the story within this poem, Luke. I feel for the boy batting alone.