The Monday Sonnet

In this series I endeavor to capture the weekend’s action in the form of a sonnet. Shakespeare famously used this poetic form to express passionate feelings, often of love and lust, while I am using it to recap baseball games. Please don’t tell your high school English teacher.

At Friday’s close, an hour later than norm,

A one-time ace ‘neath the lights of the lone-star,

Lonely, starless, far from his past form,

Threw pitches which moved little, but traveled far.

Sev’rino soared in place of lost hits,

‘Til one rookie rose to deliver the loot,

The speed-man returned to the role he had missed,

A closer, perhaps, for whom ‘tis hard to root.

Upon Sunday’s dawn woke slumb’ring lumber,

Bombs, delivered via youthful faces:

Sanchez, then Judge, each twice making thunder,

Yet when the dust cleared, no one had changed places.


A weekend of toil, blasts, sweat, and struggle,

Still stuck in the mire of that wild card bubble.


Related Articles

Leave a comment

Use your Baseball Prospectus username