That match was late evening and I had the experience of the electricity of the Centre Court because it was packed, a full house for the whole match. It had been a great year for me, first time there and I had the full taste of Wimbledon.
quote by John Newcombe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Match-ball!
Match-ball!
Everywhere;
Match-ball, match, ball, at;
Everywhere!
Miscellaneous,
Cat, hat, hall, ham, call;
Into the clefts of the rocks! !
Holes, moles, ploes, soles;
To the moles and bats!
Exiles,
Exits,
All, mall, tall, mat, bat;
Pastures,
Pictures,
Tab, bam, lam, cam, act, batch;
Kindled,
Justifies!
But, like a flint;
Boles, voles, roles!
At Royal Victoria Place Shopping Centre;
However, it was like a match-ball.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A coach can only teach.
A coach is not a match to his players.
Stamina matters.
A teacher cannot match his students;
Memory matters.
A preacher cannot match his disciples;
Staunchness matters.
A husband cannot match his cuckold;
Curiosity matters.
Can a ladder match the climber?
30.09.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The previous year it had taken England all their time to beat the full German team in an international and I had taken with me the programme from that match.
quote by Dixie Dean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life To Me Is
life is full of memories
life is full of hurts and pains
life is bitter like tangerines
life is a box of chocolate
it melts away
life is a match that has just been lite
life is fast so run or you'll be late.
life is not a waste of time
oh how do i love this life of mine.
poem by Jamaya Ewing
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The F.A.Cup Final
When I was a kid it was a big day
all the family around the television
I'd watch hours of the build up
seeing how both teams got there.
My father telling my mum the rules
my sister pretending she was interested
even the dog barked at the screen.
I'd kick every ball during the match
dreaming of being there one day
this was the best day of the year.
After the match I'd be over the fields
I'd pretend i was one of the players
who had played that day at Wembley.
The F.A.Cup Final was a great occasion
the biggest day in the football season
the best cup competition in the world!
poem by Kevin Halls
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My Worship Of Sorrow - Original By Rabindranath Tagore
My worship of sorrow is not yet over;
I shall lit up all the lamps of my sorrow
At the end of the day for my last prayer.
When birds return to the nest
In the shadow of the evening,
When the bell of evening worship is rung in the evening
Then this life will lit up its last flame-offer
And my worship of sorrow will be over.
So many words of my so many days
So many yearnings in so many ways
My mind is full of these things now-a-days!
When in the sacrificial fire
They will burn like the stars
And they will rush towards the sky ignoring barriers
Then my arrangement will match sunset’s color
And my worship of sorrow will be over.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Hole In The Road
They're digging a hole in our road, yet again,
And I really must say that it's becoming a pain.
The drone of their drill is driving me totally mad;
I have got the worst headache that I've ever had.
The electricity has now been cut off for hours;
I can't cook a meal, or take a nice, hot shower.
Electricity is something which we all rely on;
We don't realise how much, until it has gone.
I can't surf the net, or snuggle up in front of the TV;
And I can't even listen to my favourite band on CD.
Packed full of food, I daren't open the freezer door,
As, if I do, all of my frozen food will thaw, for sure.
I can't boil the kettle, and enjoy a nice mug of tea;
I can't listen to the classical music on Radio Three.
Oh, how I wish, the sound of drilling would end;
The noise is driving me slowly round the bend.
Come late afternoon, when the day isn't as bright,
My hand instinctively reaches to switch on the light;
But, my mind, very suddenly, realises that, of course,
At the present time, we don't have that power source.
When the power was restored yesterday, it was late;
This endless disruption is something I really do hate.
Workmen were here yesterday, and the day before;
I wish they'd finish the job: I can't take much more!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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You Blame Your Baby's Mama
You're one of the 'could ofs'...
With an 'if' attached.
And a 'would of'...
As a perfect match.
With a 'should of'...
And a private stash If you had 'moolah',
Packed in stacks.
Oh you're one of the 'could ofs'...
With an 'if' attached.
And a 'would of'...
As a perfect match.
With a 'should of'...
And a private stash If you had 'moolah',
Packed in stacks.
But you blame your baby's mama.
And she's tired of your drama.
Yes!
You're one of the 'could ofs'...
With an 'if' attached.
And a 'would of'...
As a perfect match.
With a 'should of'...
And a private stash If you had 'moolah',
Packed in stacks.
But you blame your baby's mama.
And she's tired of your...
DRAMA.
You're one of the 'could ofs'...
With an 'if' attached.
And a 'would of'...
As a perfect match.
With a 'should of'...
And a private stash If you had 'moolah',
Packed in stacks.
You are afflicted,
To dump on your baby's mama.
You're a kid afflicted.
Bringing her nothing,
But all of your drama.
You're afflicted,
To dump on your baby's mama.
As if she wishes,
Not a man...
But a boy of high drama.
You're one of the 'could ofs'...
With an 'if' attached.
And a 'would of'...
As a perfect match.
You're afflicted,
To dump on your baby's mama.
As if she wishes,
Not a man...
But a boy of high drama.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The Moment
In the empty stands
Our champion sat.
Sans fans
and sans applause.
He mulled over
The match just past;
Its aces
and its flaws.
To have come so close
And not prevail-
A lesser man might cry.
But Murray knew the glory
That comes when Mortals vie.
He thought:
'I'm getting closer,
Than I ever have before'
A silver cup
At Centre court
Was the vision
That he saw.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Wimbledon
I used to love Wimbledon so
With Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe
Now it’s just a big pain
With gals from the Ukraine
They’re all interchangeable now
The game used to have lots of zest
Not just about who played it best
It was pure TV delight
To watch them all fight
But with such - a lot of finesse
Borg wore the Wimbledon crown
McEnroe threw his racket around
Becker’s joy when he won
Nastase’s sense of fun
While Connors was centre court clown
Pat Cash (for me) caused a foul
When he blew his nose on his towel
Federer’s real good at hitting
But his habit of spitting
Has me - emitting a howl
copyright Victoria George
poem by Victoria George
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Uncertain match plays in the ground of Radiation!
The whole World is sick and in the Asylum
Patients were given the Tranquilizers!
And they watch the match with Doctor Confused!
Thank God! The Sea is calm and there won't be any Tsunami?
The head umpire is not certain whether the ball touched the bat
And it's an out?
He's requested the decision from the match Referee.
An Alien comes with a deep cry from a different Planet.
Doctor asked what can I do for you?
'I am a fortune teller' He replied.
'Oh! You came in the right time and is it out? '
'I am not sure.'
'Then who wins the match? '
'That's uncertain.'
'I have a hole in the heart since my childhood and it's very painful
Even the Tetanus scared to approach and finish this sad story.'
Doctor gave him a Morphine injection!
And all is quiet now, match goes on!
I too watch this entertaining game from infinity!
To all the Cricket fans in gratitude!
(Including my friend JVL.)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Rose, Fall
Rose of many petals that fall at gentle touch,
you cannot match up to my love-who with touch does not fall
Rose of the green stem, who withers when is dry
you cannot match up to my love, who with age, never dries
Rose of thorny flaws, who pricks me at the lips
you cannot match up to my love, whos lips contain no thorns
Rose like any other rose, who with them does not stand out,
you cannot match up to my love, whose beauty stands outloud
Rose of limited colors, who can only bloom one tone
you cannot match up to my love, who blooms of every hue
Rose, who only appeals to eyes, to those who see its beauty
you cannot match up to my love, who appeals to every sense
Rose fall down, and bow to my love-she is the one with grace
Rose wither away to my love, whose beauty outlives yours
Rose turn 'way, when in presence to my love-
for she holds something you dont hold
and that is my steep love
poem by Afrodita Alkline
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The Year Of The Rat
A Chinese friend informed me that
This is the astrological year of the rat
Though an animal lover I’ve always been
A year full of rats will cause me chagrin
A pup or a kitten would be more to my taste
Their barks and their mews I’d more easily face
With our two legged rats we seem to prefer
We’ve vermin enough, I think you’ll concur
If we skip over this rat laden calendar year
I don’t believe it would cause too many a tear
But tearful or not, I think we should heed it
That a year full of rats is really not needed
poem by Stanley Cooper
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The mind is no match with the heart in persuasion; constitutionality is no match with compassion.
quote by Everett Dirksen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memory Of Eva Gore-Booth And Con Markiewicz
The light of evening, Lissadell,
Great windows open to the south,
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.
But a raving autumn shears
Blossom from the summer's wreath;
The older is condemned to death,
Pardoned, drags out lonely years
Conspiring among the ignorant.
I know not what the younger dreams -
Some vague Utopia - and she seems,
When withered old and skeleton-gaunt,
An image of such politics.
Many a time I think to seek
One or the other out and speak
Of that old Georgian mansion, mix
pictures of the mind, recall
That table and the talk of youth,
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.
Dear shadows, now you know it all,
All the folly of a fight
With a common wrong or right.
The innocent and the beautiful.
Have no enemy but time;
Arise and bid me strike a match
And strike another till time catch;
Should the conflagration climb,
Run till all the sages know.
We the great gazebo built,
They convicted us of guilt;
Bid me strike a match and blow.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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I was in the main draw from the start, my opening match was on Court One against Jan Eric Lundquist of Sweden who was about eight in the world at the time.
quote by John Newcombe
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At least with me, the match starts much, much earlier than the actual match.
quote by Sachin Tendulkar
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The Godlike
In one great man we view with odds
A parallel to all the gods.
Great Jove, that shook heaven with his brow,
Could never match his princely bow.
In him a Bacchus we behold:
Like Bacchus, too, he ne'er grows old.
Like Phoebus next, a flaming lover;
And then he's Mercury-all over.
A Vulcan, for domestic strife,
He lamely lives without his wife.
And sure-unless our wits be dull-
Minerva-like, when moon was full,
He issued from paternal skull.
R. et R.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Little Jimmy's First Football Match
Jimmy just couldn't sleep
he was too excited for that
he hadn't felt like this
since he stroked a Meerkat.
His mother said as a treat
for being such a good lad
he could go to the football
on Saturday with his Dad.
His nan knitted him a scarf
in the colours of the team
and on the morning of the match
he was so happy he could scream.
So the big day had arrived
and off he went to the match
he sat with his dad in the stands
with a cup of tea and a batch.
This was Jimmy's first game
as he was only just seven
but sitting there with his Dad
he was in football heaven.
The match was brilliant
Jimmy's team scored four
and if it wasn't for their keeper
it would have been a lot more.
Jimmy's world changed that day
football was to become his life
as an adult it cost him a lot
eventually his long suffering wife.
So let this serve as a warning
football can be bad for your boy
so instead of taking him to a match
take him fishing or buy him a toy!
poem by Kevin Halls
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I have found a flat on Merseyside and am settling down here. If I can keep playing and get back to full match fitness, I know I have a lot to offer still.
quote by David Ginola
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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