Umpiring Poem

I, along with four other siblings (making us the Jackson 5 of the group) have taken upon ourselves to umpire. Never did we know it would be so frustrating to complete this test–I mean we did, but not this much! Here’s a scenario we were given:

The bottom of the first inning, a batter hits a home-run. Coach Drew of the other team, however, wants to protest the game, saying the batter batted out of order. Coach Williams says it is written on his own card–but not according to Coach Drew! He hands over fifty dollars to protest and you start writing up the game sheet.

The question: Is this a protestable call?

The answer: YES! Because it is protesting against a rule and not a judgment call. It is protestable and you cannot deny that coach a protest, even though talking him out of it would be ideal.

We got a lot of discussion in our class about this–because the coach would loose his $50. In the ASL, the batting order is not established until the first batter bats again. And so, the people grading the test said it wasn’t protestable–but actually it is! Only the Jacksons got it right! And we finally made that clear in class–the call is protestable! And we gave ourselves a round of applause when it was finally finished, yes.

So! Here’s the fun part about this test, he were told to give our answer and back it up with an explanation. I did so in a way–I bet they’ve never had before! I wrote my explanation as a poem. ^_^ Yes, yes, I am very pleased with myself. Just so you know before you read it, Barry and Drew are two of our teachers, and Billy is my brother.

A song came to mind, to explain this tale
I just hope that because of this, the test is not failed

Mr. Drew makes an assertion, what first inning, and a fight?!
Such snobbery, arrogance–don’t you know that I’m always right *

What a harebrained, faulty thing to stake your money upon
It’s just a batter out of order, Mr. Drew, COME ON!

But I’ll just pat my head and rub my chest
To inform the field dude that I am doing my best

A protestable call? It is so, it is so
It does not require judgment, but the coach must be slow (in his head, you know)**

In this league that we umpire, the decrees do say
The lineup can be altered in a certain way***

Some coach he must be! Not to grasp this straightforward rule
Mr. Williams (wait, is that Billy?) would not be such a fool

When the batters have not batted the whole lineup through
It is subject to change, and can fluctuate or move
(So long as the batter has not batted before, but I wouldn’t let that happen, would I Mr. Drew?)

So, a protestable call it is, guess I’ll jot it all down ****
But from here and on after, you’ve earned a sizeable frown

A sigh do I heave, a roll of my eyes
People argue with me, is it really a surprise

Mr. Drew, if you are sure that this is what you want to choose

(Please remember Mr. Barry, Mr. Drew, and the rest,
The skill of this poem is my own very best.
You wanted something professional, but you got this instead
Just recall that there is something very bungled in my head.)

* Asl 10-B–Umpire is in charge
** Asl 10-B–Cannot protest a judgment call
*** You guys said so in class 😉
****Asl 10-H–must fill out the game sheet
***** Asl 3-A-2–they must pay $50 

Okay, and guys! I am not a poet! This poem truly is my very best, and as you can see, it’s not very good–just enough to make me laugh and give me the guts to put it on my test. And yes, it did pass, I got %95 on the test–even though they failed my answer! (They counted my explanation. And I should have gotten 2 more points for getting the question right.)

26,826 and counting

Electric Bubbles

[Edit: I still can’t believe I actually put this on my test! Okay, I can, but I’m so weird. LOL]

The Chase, poem

Another attempt at poetry and it isn’t very consistent in rhythm or rhyme, but it’s kind of exciting, perhaps, maybe, if you read it right. Leave a comment and tell me what you think. And do you have a name for it?

With bloody cuts and painful scraps
I gallop hard across the planes
I raise my blade to sweep away
A fast pursuer in my wake

My heart is pounding hard and fast
My horse he labors through and past
The enemy camp that swarms the path
It falls away, we leave at last

A shrill high call near makes me fall
The dreaded sound of a trumpet’s call
My steed he quakes and then he balks
He gallops faster than the hawks

With a sudden cry I feel a shot
It starts on my back and sears through my heart
An arrow is killing me there on the spot
My race is now over, my battle a loss

But one hope yet flickers, one last hope is mine
I wrap my fingers around my horse’s mane
He gallops he struggles he runs and flies
I know he is going for his home to find

The trees whip around me I cannot last long
The wind is still whipping and whistling a song
My vision grows blurry, I see but a fog
And what I am hearing I know to be wrong

I hear a battle cry just up ahead
It streaks through the air and over my head
My horse now is tiring and his strength is fed
He stumbles and slows now, I know I’ll be dead

He slows to a stop and I hear my own name
I struggle to sit up amid all the pain
But to my great anger and greater my shame
I collapse on my steed, my face in his mane

An arm goes around me and I’m lifted down
Gentle hands touch me, hands I have known
My people, my friends, my army has come
And whether I live is in their strength alone

I now wake up slowly with sleep on my face
But grateful to be here, I know I am safe

Electric Bubbles

First attempt at Poetry

Okay, so I don’t often do poetry. I’m not really that great, but I have wrote a few that I am proud of. At least enough to post them on here. So here is my first. I have what I think to be better ones, but I thought I should post the first first. It was a long time ago and it didn’t win me a spot in the library’s poetry contest so don’t expect much. (Never do, for that matter.)

A Tree is a Majestic thing

Gently swaying, gently moaning
Ever breathing, ever growing
Bending under wind and blowing
A tree is a majestic thing

From a seed into a sapling
First aware of what is happening
Meeting Sun, its life long friend
And hearing wind first sing

Leaves first growing on a bough
Swinging fiercely high and low
Leaves that fall replaced by snow
Four seasons every year

What it’s seen in those years I wonder
What it thinks and what it ponders
For without longing and without hunger
What has it got to fear?

Watching Robins raise their young
Hearing notes in morning sung
Hiding squirrels who up it run
What friends has it made?

What will it find? What has it found?
What will it hear? What kind of sound?
Soon to whither or be cut down,
And on the ground be laid
Leave a comment!

-signed Electric Bubbles