"Fields of Bliss"

So I just found a bunch of poems I had to write for creative writing class a few years back. I hated writing them, but some of them are kind of decent, so I figured I would post some for fun. And the funny thing is, they are all either about God, film, or the Yankees. Go figure. Here's the longest and my favorite. I'll post some shorter ones some other time.

“Field of Bliss”

The field is green with perfect blades;

The paths are carved into the earth;

The painted lines are white and straight;

For the sprint from home to first.

The sun shines down warm and clear

Upon the picture-perfect view;

And unfurls in the breeze

The brilliant hues red, white, and blue.

The stands fill up and cheers do swell:

Out come the heroes on the field

Like gladiators of this age,

But wooden are the swords they wield.

“Play ball!” The cry rings out so clear,

Throughout the place it does resound.

The batter steps towards the plate

As the pitcher climbs the mound.

The first duel begins in such a way:

The pitcher stares in for the sign.

The batter swings his club around;

Living for this very time.

All watch and wait for one to throw

The white sphere at reckless speed.

From the front to third deck up

All eyes follow that small, white bead.

In heaven are fifty thousand fans

In the time that follows this.

Watching the battle on the field

Is for them three hours of bliss.

On this field are legends made,

And on this field is sorrow felt.

Tears of loss do stain the dirt;

And shouts of triumph do ring out.

Times of joy and times of pain

Are what many must endure.

But in these trials is there found

A bliss of sport, oh so pure.

The field is torn and is now brown;

The blades of grass have gone amiss.

For this is the price it pays

To become a field of bliss.