I do love cricket - it's so very English.
quote by Sarah Bernhardt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Win Of Cricket 2011
So I remember this cricket we win
with fresh flower for you Indians
and the wonderful sights you made here
winning the match 2011
Then we 'll go to there
deep under the emotions
and go over a great moments
to skate through our great dreams
and be under the thrill
I love to play with them,
And to watch them with you
I cannot live without cricket
I will never forget playing cricket in those days
poem by Thampi KEE
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Lonely Cricket
In the darkest hollow where
echo giants live,
a Lonely Cricket screams cowardly
in cold boots
Lonely Cricket gasps, hidden
in a musky capsule away from
eager steps
Lonely Cricket falls mute from
the trivial flirt of a monstrous tread
In that cave, Lonely Cricket cries –
spewing shards of gossip to cut
insomniac puppets
“O Lonely Cricket what bulbous grapes you have”
“dimmed reflections of your desolation”
May blind feet find you hermit –
a crusty delight of incarnate shell
Creak not your raspy venom
Lonely Cricket…
“For I too can spit”
poem by Phil de Lange
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Cricket Is Just Another Game
Cricket just like baseball and football and golf is just another game
And though some great cricket players have won Worldwide fame
Cricket for most cricket fans like followers of all other sports
From their life cares is just an escape of sorts
The praises of sports celebrities millions every day do sing
And nowadays sports Worldwide is a huge thing
And those not in some way involved in sport a minority
At least that is how it does seem to me
I've got nothing against cricket I'd like to make that clear
Though on t v and radio so much of it to see and hear
Like every sport for millions of poor people I am aware
A temporary escape from their lives every care
And cricket after all is just another game
Like every other sport it is much the same.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Cricket
Reaching peak is a dream
Cricket is viamedia
To reach the peak
Cricket is a dream.
Reaching peak is a dream
Life is a dream
And dream comes true
Cricket is true.
Reaching peak is a dream
Dream is real
Pursue the dream
To enjoy life.
Reaching peak is a dream
Dream is cricket
Cricket sings the song
That enlightened life.
Reaching peak is a dream
Dream comes true
And in truth only
life becomes sincere and fluent.
Everything is cricket
And cricket that makes
both happy and sad
is the mixture that is life.
Life is cricket
Enjoy it
Sing it
And make hurrah.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Wicket Cricket Critic
If the cricket critics' nagging
Merits stern official gagging
Which I doubt
How would critical ascetics,
With their prosy homiletics,
Shut it out?
And the question then arises:
If more cricketing surprises,
Such as bodyline, begin to threaten cricket,
And another stunt, when sprung,
Call for clicking of the tongue,
Should a cricket critic critically click it?
When the barrackers grow lyric
In a manner most satiric
And profane,
How, one ventures still to wonder,
May the clamor be kept under?
How restrain?
For one barbaric larrik-
In can do a lot of barrack-
In', and cause a lot of worry at the wicket.
But would sportsmen be abusing
Cricket canons in refusing
To supply that cricket critic with a ticket?
As a critic analytic
Of the cricket critics' critic
I would say,
When we criticise their cricket,
Then the players have to stick it,
Come what may.
No specific soporific
May be used; for it is diffic-
Ult to strike a critic partly paralytic.
So there's nothing gained in seeking,
As I know; and I am speaking
As a critic of the cricket critic's critic.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Cricket World-Cup’99 (Indian Style)
The Carnival of World Cricket
Is off to a start this May;
The seventh time, the world teams clash,
For glory, seeking their way!
All will be o’er in six weeks ’time;
Could India pull off a win?
Time will decide if Azhar’s boys,
Can stun the world once again.
No more Cricket’s an English game!
It’s love has caught all men;
The fever is on; game has begun;
The testing ground- England;
The Indian squad has gone ahead,
To get acclimatized;
Eleven kilos is the Cup’s weight!
Anyone gets enticed.
Few hundred pounds
Is the cost of the Cup;
Green light is on; the end will come;
Non one has yet given up!
A huge money-prize is at stake;
And Cricket-lovers are gay!
Glued to their T.V sets all stay;
The young and old, this May.
Not all can win laurels, acclaim;
O Indians, go proclaim;
Thy uniqueness and love of the game,
‘tis a worthy cause and name!
Weather and pressures could decide,
The pitch as well, the game;
With some effort and some Dame Luck,
It is anyone’s game;
Do your job as well as you can,
And pray good things happen;
The LORD decides the Game at Lords!
The Game is much open!
poem by John Celes
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Cricket's Love Song
cricket's shrill
courting love
each shrill digs
at my lonely heart
each shrill
an extra inch
of lonelines
cricket's shrill
a field of love songs
not even one for me
each shrill chills
this lonely heart
cricket's shrill
courting love
i wonder whether
she would come
for this late night tryst
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Butterfly Flutterby
The butterfly was young
Her vibrant wings of delicate lace
Such grace such poise
A hcarming butterfly
The cricket was slick thicket
Moving quick but swift
Yet smart somewhat wise
Proud of his chirp
Hopping through the grass
Butterfly fluttered by till upon a rose
Spreading her wings a dainty show
Slowly sipping sweet
Hopping skipping
Cricket saw
Butterfly glanced
The cricket saw butterfly
The butterfly looked yonder
Cricket hopped and chirped
A jumpety crickety song
Butterfly sighed
And rolled her eyes
Cricket hopped closer
Butterfly laughed
Silly cricket trying hard
Butterfly cared less
Poor cricket hopped and hopped
Butterfly sipping nectar sweet
Cricket sang sonfter sweeter
Butterfly stopped
A song so sweet
Too lovely than nectar
Cricket hopped upon a rose
Butterfly jumped
Almost to fly away
Cricket song too lovely to fly away
Butterfly in a trance
Fluttering her wings lovely
Too charming
Too tempting
Crickect sang
Butterfly in a spell
Too late to break
Lovers forever
Strange couple though
Yet lovely
Yet happy
Suave cricket, Princess Butterfly
Flutterby, flutterby.......
poem by Bella Ravenstar
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John Henry Newman was as English as roast beef, even if he lacked a passion for cricket.
quote by Clifford Longley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Many Continentals think life is a game; the English think cricket is a game.
quote by George Mikes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inspired by Issa - The Cricket hops
our quiet conversation
now where's that intruder
the cricket?
inspired by
the cricket hops
atop the winnowing fan's
dust pile
-Issa,1819
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Undying Angels Love
Cricket’s fly, butterflies die
Angels wings, angels fly
Yesterdays dreams tomorrow will pass by
My angel stays...yes our love wont cry
The time of my soul will wait
And angels won’t fear to let me grieve
I’m here my angel I’m here
Let me lightened your darkest days
I’m here my angel, I’m here
You and I, never let fall our tears
I love you my cricket angel
Love always, your butterfly angel won’t leave..
i love you...
always,
- your butterfly angel -
poem by Tough Angel fly purple butterfly fly
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Patience Is Dying
Five day cricket tests were in vogue;
Then came in the one day cricket match.
Now four hour match is popular.
Is patience or stupidity gone?
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Soccer and cricket were my main sports growing up. I had trials as a soccer player with a few clubs interested, Crystal Palace being one, but it was cricket which became my chosen profession.
quote by Ian Botham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver Treetop School For Boys
Heres the town in which I live petunia green
Heres the shop and heres the man who sold me laces for my shoes
There is mr.marcus. boys they say hes mad
heres the battle that they won silver treetop school for boys
Early days were good as gold
An apple here an apple there
And everywhere a yes sir, no sir
They made me roll the cricket pitch once a day
Ive never been so happy than at silver treetop school for boys
The mowing machine was leaving small piles of grass
That when the ? ? ? had risen to the pipe of mr.marcus
The smell of teaching fell upon the cricket field
Smiling, laughing, rolling about at silver treetop school for boys.
Hey there
They call in the staff room
They call in the canteen
Hey come and look at what I found
I found some boys and masters sitting
On the cricket ground at silver treetop school for boys
The english master, sir, he wores a purple mask
And the head, was usually sad, was swinging from a tree
Mr.brown the physics man is off his head
And everyone just loves the grass at silver treetop school for boys
Lalalalalalala lalala lalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalala
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Bit Of A Mongrel
My full name is David Verdun Harris
and I am bit of a mongrel would you believe.
I have a lot of different blood
running through my veins.
My middle name is French
and there is English, Irish, Scots and Canadian
and even a bit of Spanish Gypsy from way back when.
That could account for my love of flamenco music.
I had an uncle who was a gunman
for the IRA in the 1920’s.
I am a distant relative
to one of the most decorated
American soldiers of the Vietnam War
who has 61 medals to his credit.
On the other side of the family
I am informed there are Admirals and a Lord
and not forgetting a famous cricketer
who is in the Guinness Book of Records
and played for the first English cricket team.
Then you come to me
a pretend Preacher and a wannabe writer.
Therefore, when I call myself a mongrel
that’s exactly what I am, a real mixed breed.
They may even enter me into Cruffs next year.
You never know I may even win a blue ribbon
in the mixed breed section.
4 March 2009
poem by David Harris
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yes, what if God does not speak english at all?
you were not born yesterday
and probably heard it before
that if your God does not speak english
then he must not be God
of course, something arrogant
hangs in the air
of this effortless superiority that
'englishers'
'english-plongplangs'
clai m, which, of course, we
always oppose and dub
as prettry dumb silly
but anyhow, yes, we are asked again
what if?
what if, this God, does not really speak English?
well, of course, he is still God
and he must not have considered the english language
that important
and i agree, even if i speak it,
i still have this language
of my soul,
albeit, in english, for you,
who does not speak my own language,
yes, of course, for you to perhaps
understand,
but i like it though, this thought
that God does not speak
the english language, lest, he may sound
so englishly, oh well,
arrogant.....
dear God
do you really...not speak english?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dreadlock Holiday
I was walkin down the street
Concentratin on truckin right
I heard a dark voice beside of me
And I looked round in a state of fright
I saw four faces one mad a brother from the gutter
They looked me up and down a bit and turned to each other
(I say) I dont like cricket-a oh no I love it-a yeah
I dont like cricket-a no no I love it-a yeah
Dont you walk through my words you got to show some respect
Dont you walk through my words cause you aint heard me out yet
Well he looked down at my silver chain
He said Ill give you one dollar
I said youve got to be joking man
It was a present from me mother
He said I like it I wan it Ill take it off your hands
An youll be sorry youd crossed me
Youd better understand that youre a long, a long way from home
(and I say) I dont like reggae-a no no I love it-a hey
I dont like reggae-a yeah yeah I love it-a oh yeah
Dont you cramp me style dont you queer me pitch
Dont you walk through my words cause you
Aint heard me out yet
I hurried back to the swimming pool
Sinkin pina colada
I heard a dark voice beside me say
Would you like something hotter
She said Ive got it you wan it my harvest is the best
And if you try it youll like it and wallow in the
Dreadlock holiday, dreadlock holiday, dreadlock holiday
(and I say) dont like jamaica oh no I love her hey
Dont like jamaica oh no I love her oh yeh
Dont you walk through my words you got to show some respect
Dont you walk through my words cause you aint heard me out yet
I dont like cricket-a oh no I love it-a dreadlock holiday
I dont like reggae-a oh no I love it-a dreadlock holiday
Dont like jamaica hey I love her dreadlock holiday
I dont like cricket-a oh no I love it-a dreadlock holiday
I dont like reggae
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Isn't cricket supposed to be a team sport? I feel people should decide first whether cricket is a team game or an individual sport.
quote by Sachin Tendulkar
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The Language That The Poor Wants To Speak
do you speak good English?
do you take pride in it and then use it to impress others
and swindle them
into a belief that they are inferior?
they have feelings too
of humiliation
which even in such a sad state
wish that their humiliation
speak good English still
they always think that English will give them
a good job
a better standing in the society
a flare of fashionable tongue
you make them cry
but still they want to speak that cry in English too
foolish!
but can you blame them?
you who hold that power and might
you who have taken all what they once had
and made them
worse within
themselves
despite which,
they still want to be like you
to speak like you
a god
how sad!
you have never known the language of love
the grammar of generosity
the syntax of sympathy
that language that good English
sometimes has forgotten
to utter
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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