In an ongoing series, the editors, former contributors, and readers of Eclectica have been invited to write a poem containing four pre-chosen words. The words for this issue are arm, patch, center, and strike.

If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the new words are brew, indigo, paper, and cruise.

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(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole poem)
 

Taking Casey Out
 
The mightiest arm,
hit dead center
 
Ken Gosse

 

My last game with Dad
 
Dad's a champion. I'm his daughter, and I know nothing of carrom.
 
Michelle D'costa

 

Shoulders
 
Some
spume of pride reared in him then.
 
Judy Kaber

 

Baseball with the Boys
 
Come spring we crashed the boys' baseball
games, goaded them into letting us play
by accusing them of being scared we were better.
 
Lisa McMonagle

 

Trans-Europe Express
 
The family elders always thought
It was just a rough patch
Something Prince would grow out
Of eventually
 
M. A. Dennis

 

The Recruit
 
It will be an eager recruit
about your age
with a patch of an eager moustache
who comes to the door
 
Elizabeth Boquet

 

Survivors
 
But spring struck
armed with wet vengeance
and the first dry day
sees violets
 
Nancy Jentsch

 

Back When Chicago Bars All Had Old Style Signs Hanging Outside
 
I was eight. Scared shitless.
I stood in front of the door for a while
listening to what was on the other side
 
David Mathews

 

Bell Ringing in the East Bronx
 
Bell song rockets
out into the splash of rain on a city street. Everything
is the color of steel: shadows, stones, the sky and all
 
Christine Potter