Glory Days

Written for Living Poetry. Bart asks
us to write a poem with the words
field, game, and husband.

My husband is glued to the baseball game,
Each pitch is either disgrace or fame.
He cheers so loud, you’d think the field
Was in our house and victory sealed.

The popcorn’s done and his beer’s gone flat.
Now he’s yelling “What kind of pitch was that?!”
I ask “Honey, how’s the game? What’d I miss?”
He says “Shh!” So much for marital bliss!

NAR©2026

This is “Centerfield” by John Fogerty

Monday Poetry Prompt: Field, Game, Husband

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