Split-Second

When I’m not writing poetry, one of my favourite things to do is to play Softball. This is a short poem (fittingly) that details the quickest and most thrilling moment in a game, in my opinion.

Slow Pitch.jpeg

(Cr: City of Hot Springs)

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An original poem by Coeur d’un Poète.

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This is the moment
of bountiful anticipation,
that split-second event,
of a momentous decision.
Standing there, bat in hand,
expecting the ball to twirl in reach,
there I stand, in longful demand
of the glory that suceeds the contact pitch.

This split-second holds hope eternal
in a game full of stats and averages.
In this split-second, I can be lethal
and score some serious carnage.
This is the hope within the moment
that fosters my slow pitch ambitions.
Within a split-second, I either make a dent
or simply scratch the surface of expectation.

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