Hitting is better than sex.
quote by Reggie Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Riding With Cats Eyes Nine Lives
riding with cats eyes nine lives
riding in dark or moonlight
riding in cloud shadow or rain
riding with a lucky stars roll
riding at speed in night magic
hitting judder bars in darkness
hitting judder bars hard fast
hitting judder bars all alone
hitting judder bars straight on
hitting judder bars at speed
is heightened airborne rush
is riding racing death in night
is riding in night fed wonder
is heightened seconds flying
is ready road rocket launch pad
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Hitting Ali in the body or on the arms was like hitting a piece of cement.
quote by Ken Norton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's not hard. When I'm not hitting, I don't hit nobody. But when I'm hitting, I hit anybody.
quote by Willie Mays
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Hitting a baseball well, as in cricket, is a very rare skill. One of most difficult things to do in the world to do, hitting a ball coming at you at ninety miles an hour with a round bat. Wonderful to watch.
quote by Peter Tork
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Storm...
i remember
i did not stop the car
as i brace myself
for the well announced
storm
large drops of rain
hitting the windshield
there is no
road visible
lightning and thunder
hitting the trees
with a flash of
ghostly images
i was always
ready
i had no one
and no one
had me....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When I'm not hitting, I don't hit nobody. But, when I'm hitting, I hit anybody.
quote by Willie Mays
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I never blame myself when I'm not hitting. I just blame the bat and if it keeps up, I change bats. After all, if I know it isn't my fault that I'm not hitting, how can I get mad at myself
quote by Yogi Berra
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I never blame myself when I'm not hitting. I just blame the bat and if it keeps up, I change bats. After all, if I know it isn't my fault that I'm not hitting, how can I get mad at myself?
quote by Yogi Berra
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Yeah, she was hitting me hard. She was drunk and she was hitting me hard.
quote by David Gest
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There is hard hitting, but the hitting is not nearly as hard as it used to be.
Bouts With Hard Knocks
I wish I did awaken to become intelligent and wise.
As if a crawling on my knees and facing emotional turmoil,
Would have been prevented.
And those experiences did not attached themselves,
To a mind in a head addicted to hitting against walls.
Or fists hitting up against bricks,
And having bouts with hard knocks.
If 'only' I knew I was intelligent and wise,
My life would have been a lot easier.
And I would not have been left so scarred...
Damaged and a bit bruised,
But on the road to recovery with patience and years...
Under my belt.
Or in my head!
Wherever that patience I keep treasured is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Echoing Sounds Of The Ocean Waves
I LISTEN TO THE ECHOING SOUNDS
OF THE OCEAN WAVES HITTING THE SHORE
AND THE SEAGULS FLYING DOWN
TRYING TO CATCH MORE
WHILE MOUNTAINS SEEM SO FAR
AND THE PEOPLE ON THERE SAIL BOATS WAVING
NOT KNOWING WHO YOU ARE
AND TIME DON'T MOVE THE HOURS STAND STILL
WHEN YOUR OUT IN THE OCEAN ENJOYING THE AIR
NOW THE SWEET BREEZE RUFFLES YOUR HAIR
BUT YOU DON'T CARE
YOUR JUST LETTING YOUR SELF BE FREE
JUST LISTENING TO ECHOING SOUNDS
OF THE OCEAN WAVES HITTING THE SHORE
poem by Bruce Martone
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As the Caretakers of 'Your' Interests
Ladies and gentlemen...
It has come to our attention,
Many of you are homeless and starving.
And those of you who are not...
Are close to those experiences.
However...
We wish to inform you,
As the caretakers of 'your' interests...
And well being,
We...
Those you have elected to keep you,
From hitting rock bottom and hitting brick walls...
Are doing our utmost best to impress you,
With the acknowledgement...
That our concerns are 'your' concerns.
And...
Rest assured,
We are 'not' just maintaining those impressions!
But,
We are also...
Spending sleepless hours,
Ensuring our imitation of leaders...
Best represent your expectations!
So until further notice...
Please allow our performances to continue,
With your endorsements.
That alone,
Will help us succeed in keeping your beliefs alive.
Keep in mind...
None of this would exist without your support.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Long Journey Ahead
Blinking at the bright light, I thought
“I’m all set for a long trip! I must!
Through many unfamiliar routs”
“I might have done it before! But
I lost my past at my last horizon
Which I left by accepting a covenant
Of oblivion, before reaching this zone”
Ending my musings, I gazed forward
To find two pairs of cool eyes looking into mine
From two masked persons with Steel blades
Bleeding in their hands! What a bad reception? !
Shocked, I remained in timid quietude
Then came an unexpected knock on my back
Someone has started hitting me, first with some heed
Then started speeding up, with sounds like
Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud
I wanted to say, “Hey! Stop it! You freak!
My mumbled lips produced no sound
The hitting continued; with brisk strokes
This time on my belly as well
I felt vulnerable and weak
I wanted to weep; get out of this hell
I tried once again; this time with a crack
With full force I expelled, a shrilling yell
Now the hitting’ as slowed down to a somewhat
Systematic patting; to a more measured rhythm
Heartened; I shrieked again; with full throat
Louder and louder, hysterical, up to the acme
The hitting did cease, all abrupt
After a minute of silence I heard
My captors shouting with delight
“The baby has cried! The baby has cried! !
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Tendulkar's 100th Ton
My father gave a chocolate
when I walked hundred steps
In eighth standard, in maths
I got hundred out of hundred.
The hundred meant me more
When I watched Tendulkar,
hitting his hundredth century
after previous, waiting almost a year.
Delighted every spectator
watching the great cricketer,
either in the ground or television
hitting historic hundredth ton.
Since last ton hit in March last
waited eagerly every fan and sportsman
March 16 of twelve was set
to witness that great moment.
Every one was waiting fully excited
date would go down in history of cricket
Tendulkar would score hundredth hundred
setting the milestone of achievement
(C) S D Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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On the other side of the Lomba river
There are flashes hitting in the distance,
bad weather hanging on the other side of the Lomba river
with tanks standing ablaze
nothing can stop the war clouds
(while the shots of enemy tanks resound)
or stop the slaughter of the angel of death
and Fapla, Cubans and Russians perish
and we also receive deadly shots.
There are flashes hitting in the distance,
where we teach them a final lesson in Africa
when the enemy appear
but olifant tanks and Ratel armoured cars are stuck in a landmine field
and howitzer canons fire
at the beginning of the slaughter
with tanks standing ablaze
and there are olifant tanks and Ratel armoured cars disappearing in the bush
with rockets raining down
when the enemy appear
which rip enemy weaponry into pieces
and division after division comes under restraint.
There are flashes hitting in the distance,
and the canons of howitzers, tanks and armoured cars fire continuously
while the smell of death is everywhere
with rockets raining down
with few enemy being still alive,
with some leaving intact tanks, fleeing to survive
with tanks standing ablaze
and I am conscious of the inhumanity
and feelings of powerlessness
while the smell of death is everywhere
and the slaughter goes on and on
and human life isn’t important.
There are flashes hitting in the distance,
with tanks standing ablaze
and whatever you do or mean
nothing can stop the war clouds
and feelings of powerlessness
or stop the slaughter of the angel of death.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Measure Of Men
what is the measure of one man
is it the measure of one's strength
I think not
is it the measure of one's stature such as height
I don't think so
is it how wealthy one is
not even close
or is it how much power one possesses over another
not impressive
can a measure of a man be measured with a yardstick
well it can but that park doesn't show he's a man
the tolerance of a man for another man hitting him
can be measured with a ruler
the tolerance of a man for another man attacking his country
can be measured with a grain of salt
the tolerance of a man for another man hitting the one's he loves
now that can only be measured within a whisper
you can only measure a individual man or woman
with how big their heart is and
what qualities lie within that heart
such as dignity for what he works for
such as a stable household for his famly
compassion for people in need
the understanding of what's right and what's wrong
the pride of not what he has done but what
his wife and child has done
the sweat
the blood
and the tears he spars
to keep his marriage from falling apart
once you find a way to measure those things then
and only then will you be able to say
that is
because that is certainly
the real measure of all men
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Game of Cricket
Cricket is a game of fun
Throughout the television is on,
Especially when Sachin and Sehwag are
Making run.
It is worth to watch cricket,
When Pathan brothers are taking wicket.
When Rohit is going out on zero,
Mahendra Singh Dhoni is declared as the hero.
When Tanveer and Gul are in fix,
Dhoni and Yuvraaj are hitting six.
When Raina is hitting a four,
Rival team can do nothing to check the score.
When by Harbhajan the ball is caught,
Entire team of opponent are in thought.
When there is a big target to chase,
Every player is enthusiastic to win the craze.
When Sehwag is double digit score,
Heart beat of every captain is increasing
More and more.
When salman Butt is dropping an easy catch,
Ishant and Sreesanth awarded man of the match.
So in short, cricket is a fun,
But only when India has won.
poem by Prabhudatta Kar
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But now there are more concussions due to not being used to the hard hitting.
He could not see a belt without hitting below it.
quote by Margot Asquith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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