Cricket
Cricket, cricket
chirping all the night.
Why don't you sleep
until the morning light?
I lay there abed
listening to you.
Sometimes you stop.
I think you are through.
But no, chirp, chirp
you start in again.
I'm up searching your sound
but it's then
you are silent
'til I'm back in bed.
You are relentless
and so it is I dread
another sleepless night.
I'll find you in the morn
and when I do,
You'll wish you'd not been born.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Crickets
Chirping cricket families talk
Under the midnight moon
But chirping cricket children
Hide when it is noon
They don’t make a sound when the sun comes out
But they are lively at night-
For when we come out they hide,
So they are like us in the daytime at night.
Sleepless Night
Oh, there's a rude little lady
Livin' next to me.
Oh, she sure loves someone,
But it ain't me.
Ev'ry night at twelve o'clock,
They start to rock with all they got.
They keep it up all night.
It just ain't right.
They O.K. by me, I'm not.
He and she, they all right.
Once they start, they never stop
Through this sleepless night.
Once I was her lover.
It was so good to be.
Now she's got somebody else and I can't sleep.
Ooh, nothin' hurts people more than other people do.
But what can you do?
Meanwhile, upstairs, they O.K.
Ev'rythin' is all right.
I wish that I could find a way
Through this sleepless night.
Ooh, this sleepless night.
Ooh, this sleepless night.
Ooh, that wicked lady,
She's got a hold on me.
Ooh, she doesn't want me,
But she won't let me be.
They play that music ev'ry night.
It rocks my bed; it shakes my light.
They ball with all their might.
It just ain't right.
Ooh, this sleepless night.
Ooh, this sleepless night.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem about Poetry - the bird belting out a poem
twilight amusement
the different IQs
that make their way
to my room
dividing the world
in the form of chirp
chirp, chirp, chirp
twitter, twitter, twitter
in so many styles
and tones and syllables,
some extended,
some short broken notings
as diverse as the blooms in the garden
warbling, twittering, twit, tweedling, chirping
chirping, chirp
the singing IQ chart
try, try, try, you never know
how good you are if you never try
the varying quality bird songs
from the large garden tree
each bird's chirp
a humble contribution
from a little creation
each chirp divides the world
at morn, at dusk
what a delight to the ears, mind
simple short noted twitter
long extended mutli-toned varied tweedle
the varying quality poems
those chirpy nature poems
by celebrity birds
the like of sylvia plath,
and proletarian birds
the like of impoverished citizens
of the world
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleepless Nights
Oh, theres a rude little lady
Livin next to me.
Oh, she sure loves someone,
But it aint me.
Evry night at twelve oclock,
They start to rock with all they got.
They keep it up all night.
It just aint right.
They o.k. by me, Im not.
He and she, they all right.
Once they start, they never stop
Through this sleepless night.
Once I was her lover.
It was so good to be.
Now shes got somebody else and I cant sleep.
Ooh, nothin hurts people more than other people do.
But what can you do?
Meanwhile, upstairs, they o.k.
Evrythin is all right.
I wish that I could find a way
Through this sleepless night.
Ooh, this sleepless night.
Ooh, this sleepless night.
Ooh, that wicked lady,
Shes got a hold on me.
Ooh, she doesnt want me,
But she wont let me be.
They play that music evry night.
It rocks my bed; it shakes my light.
They ball with all their might.
It just aint right.
Ooh, this sleepless night.
Ooh, this sleepless night.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weird-Bird
from the wire chirp
on the wire chirp
frantic head
to and fro
to and fro
chirp, chirp, chirp
little bird on a wire
head and beak
to and fro
to and fro
ten times in a second
tail up, tail down, tail up, tail down
the tight feathered bodice
doing a twist
legs angled tight on tiny wire
a tightrope walker
chirp, chirp, chirp
looking for some fun
looking for a companion to share its day
chirp, chirp, chirp
inspired by
Weird-Bird
Birds are flyin' south for winter.
Here's the Weird-Bird headin' north,
Wings a-flappin', beak a-chatterin',
Cold head bobbin' back 'n' forth.
He says, 'It's not that I like ice
Or freezin' winds and snowy ground.
It's just sometimes it's kind of nice
To be the only bird in town.'
Shel Silverstein
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forest staccatos
Even chirp joy when India wins
A cricket test match
haiku by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Abstraction Fo The Word Chirp....
i hear birds chirping
early morning
on those trees
clouds arrive, light
spreads,
green becomes too green
in the fields of
life,
i hear birds chirping
sweet to my ear
i give it priority
abstract. delet morning
move out clouds from the picture
double click green fields
focus on life
delet birds
add volume to chirping
it is all chirping now
just chirping
chirping chirping
the essence of chirp.
i have abstracted it from
everything else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cricket chirping
Frosty night
A mat of cold and white —
It holds a folded robe
But must I sleep alone?
tanka by Fujiwara no Yoshitsune
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Chirping
I have a story to tell. A familiar one of a kind tale.
Colored by pigment and biased with a name.
Breeding contempt or some other monstrous thing
in hearts that pump fear as if it was life itself.
It's a story that comes in pieces, chunks or ragged whole
cloth, though it can seem stitched into a tapestry, or
quilted by an Amish maiden fresh as this morning's hay
and full of lies.
It's a story that cracks my voice.
About the cost of freedom.
About these wounds in my arms
bleeding secrets I once kept,
staining my bones like a Maori tattooing ceremony.
It is a story about blind alleys.
About mountains and trails meant for goats.
About walking in light and shade.
Learning to live in the light
and rest in the shade.
It is the story of the years and how they burn the skin.
The innocent days, and guilty nights
when I am no longer young.
About the grip of a force I cannot resist.
In the night I hear a cricket chirping.
It reminds me of music from long ago,
a well tempered riot of color and sound;
the cricket is chirping, the music is playing,
the torch is lit and I have a story to tell.
poem by Ronald Shields
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The cricket's chirp and the patter of rain come to me through the dark, like the rustle of dreams from my past youth.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Incidents in the life of my Uncle Arly
O my aged Uncle Arly!
Sitting on a heap of Barley
Thro' the silent hours of night,
Close beside a leafy thicket:
On his nose there was a Cricket,
In his hat a Railway-ticket
(But his shoes were far too tight).
Long ago, in youth, he squander'd
All his goods away, and wander'd
To the Tinskoop-hills afar.
There on golden sunsets blazing,
Every evening found him gazing,
Singing, 'Orb! you're quite amazing!
How I wonder what you are!'
Like the ancient Medes and Persians,
Always by his own exertions
He subsisted on those hills;
Whiles, by teaching children spelling,
Or at times by merely yelling,
Or at intervals by selling
'Propter's Nicodemus Pills.'
Later, in his morning rambles
He perceived the moving brambles
Something square and white disclose;
'Twas a First-class Railway-Ticket;
But, on stooping down to pick it
Off the ground - a pea-green Cricket
Settled on my uncle's Nose.
Never - never more - oh, never,
Did that Cricket leave him ever,
Dawn or evening, day or night;
Clinging as a constant treasure,
Chirping with a cheerious measure,
Wholly to my uncle's pleasure
(Though his shoes were far too tight).
So for three and forty winters,
Till his shoes were worn to splinters,
All those hills he wander'd o'er,
Sometimes silent; sometimes yelling;
Till he came to Borley-Melling,
Near his old ancestral dwelling
(But his shoes were far too tight).
On a little heap of Barley
Died my aged Uncle Arly,
And they buried him one night;
Close beside the leafy thicket;
There - his hat and Railway-Ticket;
There - his ever-faithful Cricket
(But his shoes were far too tight).
poem by Edward Lear
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On a quiet night journey
i gaze out in silent of the moon light night
and whisper on the north east wind, the
alluring sound of the cricket, pushing me
to sleep
i raised my head, though closing my eyes,
remembered in my distance land, where
the sprouting of the trees relieve and
left adore
i bowed my heads and look back on my far a way
home, waiting and calling me back, to
salute the birth place i leave, the breezing
of echoes deep sitting in my lap
poem by Antonio Liao
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Delighted Morning
compose made easy
every morning dews engulfed
devolved the night fall into the glances of the sky
wait until dawn, as the firefly sings and the cricket
dances to fly
take me where the soul
reside and bring me the wind
that says sweet goodbye, lead the resting place where
everybody wants to sleep with the sky.
look up the night as it falls down
in the heaven
like shadows calling window of the night, letting the
eyes to close the light that passes on
the sleep of dream forward
to lie
come leave me to pass this night …
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Something Found in the Night
Breezy brush strokes
Ink blotch tree tops
slick oil spill foliage
surreal nightsky canvass
abandoned cricket chirp haze
luminary midnight
phosphorescent corner street light
silver-back vagabond
bitter brown bag delight
swaying strands of electric sable
high-wire communication circus
tire track tentacles of rubber eels
Commercial patriot; silver signals from above
piloting visions in the clouds
sweet sky cabin dreams
oh woe,
I lose so many things during the night:
words, stanzas, hours,
time, sleep, thoughts,
memories, worries, consciousness
I seem to only tire in my sleep
I only rest when in dream
my dreams are pictures of poetry
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Sleepless On My Pillow
I'm sleepless on my pillow
just thinking of you,
remembering just what it's like to sleep
the whole night through.
I'm not too bad in daytime
when you're not here.
But when the nights come
and you're not here
I think of you and wonder
how I'll fall asleep?
Don't want to turn the light out
for I know I'll just be
Sleepless on my pillow
just thinking of you,
remembering what it's like to sleep
the whole night through.
I wonder if you're awake
just like me?
Or are you peaceful,
sleeping silently?
When you come home again
I sleep through the night,
never waking up until
the morning light.
But when you have to leave me
for a little while,
it's then I hate those nights again
for I know that I'll be
Sleepless on my pillow
thinking just of you,
remembering what it's like to sleep
the whole night through.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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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