The catcher. That’s what he was. He’d could catch anything from a mile away. A bird, a dog, a ball. It didn’t matter. He’d catch them all. He faced the world like he had something to prove and he’d catch everything it threw at him and throw it right back.
Catcher. Catch her. Catch her before she kills again. Catch her before she makes another bleed. Catch her before she ruins another life. Catch her before she gets away with it again. Catch her. Catch her! CATCH HER! …Catch her before I do. Catcher.
to be caught, in the act, of sneaking around. it is scary,that moment your stomach drops to your toes realizing someone is behind you, about to grab you RUN RUN RUN AWAY dash up the steps fast FAST FASTER so they don’t get you get to the top SLAM the door you’re safe.
The catcher was on duty behind the batter, waiting the catch, as that’s what catchers do. But what he caught wasn’t what was pitched, as a girl on the sidelines felt the day too warm and lifted her shirt to wipe the sweat from her face. He didn’t even see the ball and failed to catch what he was supposed to catch.
I was a catcher, a retriever, picking up fallen hearts and floored hopes. In my dreams, I caught you, caught up with you and picked you up. Followed you into the vast forest.
I looked at the pitcher incredulously. “Mate, I signalled you to throw a straight fastball. What the hell are you doing?”
He narrowed his eyes at me and walked away, “Fuck off, you’re just a catcher. I know what I’m doing.”
I’ll surely be surprised if most of the submitted entries have nothing to do with ‘Catcher In The Rye’. J.D. Salinger was a genius & I feel that if the book is interpreted positively it can actually change someone’s life for the better like it did change mine.
The little boy caught the fly in his fist and immediately went running to his mom. “Mommy, I got it! I got it!” he shouted. He couldn’t wait to show his friends the next day.
Off the cliffs. Through the chalky fields and the dust of the dream they run. Run with hems of dresses catching and with sneakers making mountains of the grime. In the city nights with the rain glistening in the corners there are those who dream of the feilds and of the catcher, catching them all, catching all the child voices before they go over the cliffs.
Catcher.. all I can think of is Holden and his crazy antics. Although it is very interesting to compare him to Frankenstein’s monster in regards to the theme: Nature vs.Nurture.
He sneaks. There is no way to hide his trade: his shadow precedes him, and his only hope is to hunt at night. His net held before him, throbbing lightly as though alive when scenting flesh, he stalks the streets.
i’m catching glances everywhere.
no signs of envy, just empty stares.
and once their eyes remove from mine,
i see the sun no longer shines.
a dark black cloud now takes it’s place.
there’s no more room for these mistakes.
so i resort to living in disguise.
and soon those eyes no longer pry.
my life’s a secret. the walls been built.
a border keeps out all the guilt.
the glares still try to get inside,
but i no longer see their eyes.
my own are coated with a veil,
that blinds me from this wicked tale.
so with no story left to tell,
i stay restrained in my crafted hell.
the catcher has to have his eyes opens at all times… one miss and it can change their life. All he needs to do is focus. blur out other surroundings, expect for the one ball.
Catcher in the rye. A book I read sophomore year on English class. It was a good book but it was a little slow at times. Ms. Kempner was my teachers name. I had it 1st period.
a dream catcher. it’s supposed to keep out the bad dreams and let through the good ones. sometimes it doesn’t work. sometimes it’s a disappointment and you wake up in the morning from a nightmare filled with an emptiness and numb with uncertainty and the remnants of that dream’s fears. I use a dream catcher more for decoration than anything else.
Don’t think, just write. Catcher calls to mind baseball, but can not say I know the names of any players, unless Thurmon Munson was a catcher. I told him, when getting his autograph, “We named a hamster after you.” He gave me a look. I was mortified.
Catcher also brought to mind the thought: Catcher in the Rye. I remember liking the book, but not a thing about it.
It had been eons since anyone had called him “Chief”, and Jensen’s heart swelled with a momentary pride. But the moment was vaporized when she put a hand to his chest to stop him and said, “Whoa! careful. There’s a Catcher over there hunting for strays.” Jensen thought, “Strays?”
People often hear many mysteries going on in that hollow street. People disappeared for no reason at all. They believe that there was a catcher loose and they will have to find him no matter what the case or cause is. The whole neighborhood is up to the case.
Someone is always at the short end of the stick, right? Someone is always more invested, has more to lose, yes? When it all rolls downhill, someone is always the catcher.
is what you call them – various hims who shadow hearts with horror stories, holding out for the day they buckle, holding hands with the devil himself in a quest to gather souls.
My first cat was named Catcher, for the mice we hoped he would catch – and he sure as hell lived up to his name. The animal was a damn warrior. He was boss of the block, often returning with gaping battle wounds that he always somehow recovered from.
baseball is so much fun to watch. the catcher is the one who stand behind people and catches the balls that are thrown at them. sort of like a stalkish superhero.
You couldn’t catch me. I can’t save what was taken away. I guess we’re all damaged in our own way, as fixed as I am. This isn’t just another eulogy thrown in the air. You know what you did.
one who holds, he who finds the wrongdoer, the binding point, the limitation, the one who is responsible for making sure that the valuable things don’t fall and shatter into oblivion to be lost forever
I always wanted to play catcher on the girl’s softball team. We were the “Mahar Shoes”, I suppose because the Mahar Shoe Store was our sponsor. I would shout “We are good souls!” to rattle the opposing team. I wonder if that’s why they put me in right field.
I never read that book, you know? Somebody small, somebody pitiful, somebody hateful. I missed out on that, but I guess I’ve still got my chance. Reminds me of his greatest regret. He was so dejected over that missed ball, the fly right over second base. Reminds me how he died, unfulfilled, that that was his dream. Remember when that mattered?
I don’t even remember that story. I vaguely remember reading it in High School, thinking about bleachers and the hill at our football field, and remembering that the book was supposed to be controversial. But I don’t remember why. Nor do I think I knew at the time, so how shocking could it have been? Mostly I remember being bored by it. Really painfully BORED. I hated it.
(Sorry to any JD fans or family! It just wasn’t my thing. I’m also not a big reader, so take that into consideration too!)
catcher in the rye…..couldn’t help it; it was the first thing that popped into my head. I really should read that book. I’m adding it to the never-ending list of literature that I need to read. Books are windows into the world of the imagination : ) .
Like a catcher on a field
glove on fire
a single sweep across the air
seems an art print to the crowd
the swirl of light, the point against the sky
the neon ribbon streak across his face
as the ball breezes past
out to the car park
The catcher. They’re the one who brings the game home. They’re the one who brings a person out and decides the destiny of a game. They catch the fast balls. They wait for the hit. They are the ones who are a net, a safety net for the ball. The ball goes home to them.
a dream. butterflies dancing over the sea of meadows. the catcher only chases them because he hates freedom. he too, once used to be free. but time changes, the clock of his life stopped almost as suddenly as it began. his freedom was taken away by father time.
therefore creating the catcher of freedom.
I hope to be a catcher of silences; to hear all the words you can’t say
The catcher. That’s what he was. He’d could catch anything from a mile away. A bird, a dog, a ball. It didn’t matter. He’d catch them all. He faced the world like he had something to prove and he’d catch everything it threw at him and throw it right back.
Catcher. Catch her. Catch her before she kills again. Catch her before she makes another bleed. Catch her before she ruins another life. Catch her before she gets away with it again. Catch her. Catch her! CATCH HER! …Catch her before I do. Catcher.
to be caught, in the act, of sneaking around. it is scary,that moment your stomach drops to your toes realizing someone is behind you, about to grab you RUN RUN RUN AWAY dash up the steps fast FAST FASTER so they don’t get you get to the top SLAM the door you’re safe.
catcher is so crazyyyyyyy………. imn a catcher yoooooooo………..the thing abt catching iis tht its fun and recreational.
The catcher was on duty behind the batter, waiting the catch, as that’s what catchers do. But what he caught wasn’t what was pitched, as a girl on the sidelines felt the day too warm and lifted her shirt to wipe the sweat from her face. He didn’t even see the ball and failed to catch what he was supposed to catch.
I was a catcher, a retriever, picking up fallen hearts and floored hopes. In my dreams, I caught you, caught up with you and picked you up. Followed you into the vast forest.
I looked at the pitcher incredulously. “Mate, I signalled you to throw a straight fastball. What the hell are you doing?”
He narrowed his eyes at me and walked away, “Fuck off, you’re just a catcher. I know what I’m doing.”
I’ll surely be surprised if most of the submitted entries have nothing to do with ‘Catcher In The Rye’. J.D. Salinger was a genius & I feel that if the book is interpreted positively it can actually change someone’s life for the better like it did change mine.
The little boy caught the fly in his fist and immediately went running to his mom. “Mommy, I got it! I got it!” he shouted. He couldn’t wait to show his friends the next day.
Off the cliffs. Through the chalky fields and the dust of the dream they run. Run with hems of dresses catching and with sneakers making mountains of the grime. In the city nights with the rain glistening in the corners there are those who dream of the feilds and of the catcher, catching them all, catching all the child voices before they go over the cliffs.
Catcher.. all I can think of is Holden and his crazy antics. Although it is very interesting to compare him to Frankenstein’s monster in regards to the theme: Nature vs.Nurture.
Poor old Holden ! & his rad red hat haha
He sneaks. There is no way to hide his trade: his shadow precedes him, and his only hope is to hunt at night. His net held before him, throbbing lightly as though alive when scenting flesh, he stalks the streets.
i’m catching glances everywhere.
no signs of envy, just empty stares.
and once their eyes remove from mine,
i see the sun no longer shines.
a dark black cloud now takes it’s place.
there’s no more room for these mistakes.
so i resort to living in disguise.
and soon those eyes no longer pry.
my life’s a secret. the walls been built.
a border keeps out all the guilt.
the glares still try to get inside,
but i no longer see their eyes.
my own are coated with a veil,
that blinds me from this wicked tale.
so with no story left to tell,
i stay restrained in my crafted hell.
the catcher has to have his eyes opens at all times… one miss and it can change their life. All he needs to do is focus. blur out other surroundings, expect for the one ball.
Catcher in the rye. A book I read sophomore year on English class. It was a good book but it was a little slow at times. Ms. Kempner was my teachers name. I had it 1st period.
a dream catcher. it’s supposed to keep out the bad dreams and let through the good ones. sometimes it doesn’t work. sometimes it’s a disappointment and you wake up in the morning from a nightmare filled with an emptiness and numb with uncertainty and the remnants of that dream’s fears. I use a dream catcher more for decoration than anything else.
Don’t think, just write. Catcher calls to mind baseball, but can not say I know the names of any players, unless Thurmon Munson was a catcher. I told him, when getting his autograph, “We named a hamster after you.” He gave me a look. I was mortified.
Catcher also brought to mind the thought: Catcher in the Rye. I remember liking the book, but not a thing about it.
It had been eons since anyone had called him “Chief”, and Jensen’s heart swelled with a momentary pride. But the moment was vaporized when she put a hand to his chest to stop him and said, “Whoa! careful. There’s a Catcher over there hunting for strays.” Jensen thought, “Strays?”
People often hear many mysteries going on in that hollow street. People disappeared for no reason at all. They believe that there was a catcher loose and they will have to find him no matter what the case or cause is. The whole neighborhood is up to the case.
Someone is always at the short end of the stick, right? Someone is always more invested, has more to lose, yes? When it all rolls downhill, someone is always the catcher.
is what you call them – various hims who shadow hearts with horror stories, holding out for the day they buckle, holding hands with the devil himself in a quest to gather souls.
i went to go catch a ball but then i missed. i used to be a good catcher…. until i broke two of my arms.
to catch something
cough
IDK
My first cat was named Catcher, for the mice we hoped he would catch – and he sure as hell lived up to his name. The animal was a damn warrior. He was boss of the block, often returning with gaping battle wounds that he always somehow recovered from.
baseball is so much fun to watch. the catcher is the one who stand behind people and catches the balls that are thrown at them. sort of like a stalkish superhero.
I am the catcher of our team and I will do my best to catch every ball.
I caught the bridal boquet, so that make me a catcher?
a catcher could be someone who plays in a team sport, it could be a dog that catches birds
there’s a book called catcher and the rye.
You couldn’t catch me. I can’t save what was taken away. I guess we’re all damaged in our own way, as fixed as I am. This isn’t just another eulogy thrown in the air. You know what you did.
one who holds, he who finds the wrongdoer, the binding point, the limitation, the one who is responsible for making sure that the valuable things don’t fall and shatter into oblivion to be lost forever
The Catcher in the Rye, of course. No question. The great American novel. Read it, then read it again!
I always wanted to play catcher on the girl’s softball team. We were the “Mahar Shoes”, I suppose because the Mahar Shoe Store was our sponsor. I would shout “We are good souls!” to rattle the opposing team. I wonder if that’s why they put me in right field.
In the rye.
I never read that book, you know? Somebody small, somebody pitiful, somebody hateful. I missed out on that, but I guess I’ve still got my chance. Reminds me of his greatest regret. He was so dejected over that missed ball, the fly right over second base. Reminds me how he died, unfulfilled, that that was his dream. Remember when that mattered?
Catcher
In the Rye?
I don’t even remember that story. I vaguely remember reading it in High School, thinking about bleachers and the hill at our football field, and remembering that the book was supposed to be controversial. But I don’t remember why. Nor do I think I knew at the time, so how shocking could it have been? Mostly I remember being bored by it. Really painfully BORED. I hated it.
(Sorry to any JD fans or family! It just wasn’t my thing. I’m also not a big reader, so take that into consideration too!)
catcher in the rye…..couldn’t help it; it was the first thing that popped into my head. I really should read that book. I’m adding it to the never-ending list of literature that I need to read. Books are windows into the world of the imagination : ) .
Like a catcher on a field
glove on fire
a single sweep across the air
seems an art print to the crowd
the swirl of light, the point against the sky
the neon ribbon streak across his face
as the ball breezes past
out to the car park
Catcher, catch this; I don’t love you any more, selfish bitch. Yes, you want to know why? You don’t really deserve all this meat.
I think it’s the greatest and funnest position on the field
The catcher. They’re the one who brings the game home. They’re the one who brings a person out and decides the destiny of a game. They catch the fast balls. They wait for the hit. They are the ones who are a net, a safety net for the ball. The ball goes home to them.
a dream. butterflies dancing over the sea of meadows. the catcher only chases them because he hates freedom. he too, once used to be free. but time changes, the clock of his life stopped almost as suddenly as it began. his freedom was taken away by father time.
therefore creating the catcher of freedom.