Eleven
ELEVEN
Eleven, eleven, eleven years old,
intrepid, courageous, becomingly bold,
awaiting the whistle to aim at the goal,
youth victory snatches to go for the gold.
Eleven in yellow, eleven in blue,
first warm up, then face out, they know what to do,
team practice their axis extended, each soul
feels ready, steels steady, heart heady, on cue.
Eleven enthusiasts, courage extolled,
engage without rage on the field that has told
long tales of hopes met or defeats swallowed whole,
on one ball all focus as onwards its rolled.
Eleven, eleven, well matched, tackle through,
a game which enflames passions partisan, true,
team work all important as each knows the role
to play so the day stays as record all view
Rupert Kensho Robin Le Saux written Chateaugiron 23 October 2006
robi03_1457_robi03_0000 XXX_MXX
Eleven poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Eleven today
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Today you're eleven
That's nine add on two.
Now ten is behind you
And twelve is to come
When riding your bike
Don't fall on your bum.
A six and a five
Make eleven as well
Your maths are so good
This I don't need to tell.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Legs are eleven
But you've only TWO!
Eleven is better
Than ten any day
That's what I think
And I'm going to say:
'Roses are red
Violets are blue,
Eleven is lovely
And so too are you.'
Written Sept 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
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The secret is to work less as individuals and more as a team. As a coach, I play not my eleven best, but my best eleven.
quote by Knute Rockne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eleven minutes. The world revolved around something that only took eleven minutes.
Paulo Coelho in Eleven Minutes (2003), translated by Margaret Jull Costa
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Mampi: A Girl Of 11
Pranab k c
15/07/2011
Father is blind of one eye
only the elder brother
going to lose his kidney
Mampi the girl of eleven
feels poverty silently
She can't do anything to share
She can't learn her lesson well
Mampi the girl of eleven
feels poverty silently
She dreams to share her family
She dreams to fight a lot
Mampi the girl of eleven
feels poverty silently
One morning noise everywhere
Mampi sleeps noiseless
Mampi a girl of eleven
committed suicide
Two days later
family found a suicide note
broken words of Mampi's hand
give my kidney to my brother
give my eye to my father
I die because I learnt
man can share body-parts
with others after death'
Mampi the girl of eleven years
felt poverty silently
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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There's a stability and growth pact which was agreed for the eleven countries which tries to limit the size of budget deficits among the eleven countries.
quote by Robert C. Solomon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eleven rules of football
I took my little boy
to a nearby football pitch
He said he was tired
of playing hide and seek
He now wanted a football
to play around and kick
As he clutched my hand
I spoke to him
and tried to make him understand
the eleven rules of football
taking into consideration
that he was quite small
Now rule number one
Football is made of eleven strong men
When one or two are naughty
you may still get away
with playing nine or ten
Rule number two
When a member of your crew
hits the ball into the net
A goal is scored
that I can place a bet
For I am very sure
Rule number three
The maximum number of players
you can substitute is three
It does not cost a dime
It is totally free
Rule number four
There are rules you must comply with
When a team commits an offense
named a foul
before the game can commence
A small advantage has to be given
to the otherside
Rule number five
A freekick
is given after a foul
Sometimes awarded after
unnecessary dives
Rule number six
When you are shown a card that is yellow
Its time for your temper to mellow
or you will get the referee quite mad
and he will dismiss you with a red card
Rule number seven
A penality is like heaven
It is awarded
when a player breaks the rule
maybe by using his hand as a tool
to play the ball inside the penalty box
its time for him to go back to school
Rule number eight
A thrownin
Is when the ball is kicked out of the field
It's one of footballs favorite sins
Rule number nine
Offside is
When you are the only one running
alone to score a winning goal
you must hesitate
till you see a single soul
Rule number ten
A game lasts
for ninety minutes
You are beat
When your team has less goals than the other
That is when you must admit defeat
Rule number eleven
when your team is losing
you have to sing something amusing
saying
All we want is a goal
While we are dressed in coloured charcoal
Now my little boy
I said
These are the eleven rules of football
lets go and practise inside the sports hall
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Alcohol is a very necessary article... It makes life bearable to millions of people who could not endure their existence if they were quite sober. It enables Parliament to do things at eleven at night that no sane person would do at eleven in the morning.
George Bernard Shaw in Major Barbara (1907)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Is Needed Most Right Now
'That number multiplied by itself
Is no further than the previous number
Added to it!
5x5=25
6x6=36
Five plus six is eleven, right?
Add eleven onto 25 and you have 6x6!
Or subtract eleven from 36 and you will have 25! '
Why isn't mathematics taught that way?
In our schools?
'It would start an avalanche of thinkers...
And what is needed most right now,
Is a supply of more gullible people!
And 'that' we seem to be losing ground on.
That is becoming low in supply...
And ignorance spreads like wild fire!
Why?
We wonder.
WHO is subduing the process of thought?
They are 'not' doing a good job at that at all!
'Thinking Stinks'
And that is the message we want to send!
Critical thinking is not in demand.
We must create fresh beliefs
Before we lose the land! '
Good luck...
You lost me with this one!
Wake me up for recess!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Rhythm In Gold
I have to call you up. think Ive seen a vision of rhythm in gold.
No cat could ever move that way. no puss would dare to be so bold.
Must tell the boys to follow you.
Catch you where you go to ground.
A lady of means, I can see. rhythm in gold is getting to me.
Whats your name, and where can I find you?
Are you just a rich mans friend,
Or was it always in the family?
You seem to throw the challenge down,
By the way you didnt even look at me.
Put the boys on you. immobilize your nine-eleven.
Theres nothing I could do for you that would really matter much anyway.
You belong to everyone. rhythm in golds the number that you play.
Put the boys on you. sabotage your nine-eleven.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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11 Years, New Years
Two days remaining
Until it's eleven years
Eleven years today
I didn’t know that new years
Would change me life
Bring me sorrow
Who’d have known
It was your last day
Eleven years tomorrow
Its the 30th December
As I sit here writing
Thinking of January the 1st
The day that we all
Have come to curse
The day when others
around the world
drink and be merry
While we sit here in sadness
Thinking of you and
Who you were
Thinking of the pain you suffered
And wishing you wasn’t dead, that
You, my mother was still walking this earth,
Wishing you were getting the love you deserve.
Wishing you were getting merry with your friends and daughters
The people who loved you and always should
But your not down here,
Your happy, smiling down…from above
My one and only mother
The mother I love
R.I.P My Mother I love you.
1st May 1958-1st January 1996
poem by Danielle Candy
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For a night? Now come on, Maria, you’re exaggerating. It’s really only forty-five minutes, and if you allow time for taking off clothes, making some phoney gesture of affection, having a bit of banal conversation and getting dressed again, the amount of time spent actually having sex is about eleven minutes.
Paulo Coelho in Eleven Minutes (2003), translated by Margaret Jull Costa
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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As A Routine Feature
To convert the penalty corner
To a coveted goal with honor
Boundless drive and will
Need is to fill the bill!
We have men and women
With proven talent and acumen
What all we need
Is support indeed!
Political withiout politics
Societal without social ills
Financial without fetters
Coaching without prejudice!
Seven, eleven and seventeen
Sure to become
Seventy, eleven and hundred
Not in a distant future
But sure as a routine feature!
(As an Indian, one wishes for in the fast approaching Olympics)
poem by Subbaraman N V
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Numerology
If nine becomes six
And six becomes nine
Both will make a position
Great lovers call it sixty nine.
Eleven minus two makes nine
But nine plus two makes eleven
A great tragedy in the history of human.
Put eight on the back of one
Below this number you are teen
Minus two from it you are sweet sixteen.
Two after two is twenty two
This catch is very pathetic
You can not fight or retreat.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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The Invisible People
When I go into town at half past seven
Great crowds of people stream across the ways,
Hurrying, although it's only half past seven.
They are the invisible people of the days.
When you go in to town about eleven
The hurrying, morning crowds are hid from view.
Shut in the silent buildings at eleven
They toil to make life meaningless for you.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Ramadan
Adam ate
Only one
And he was
Kicked and thrown
But I ate
Eleven
Still I am here
And entertained
Till the month
Of Ramadan
To be forgiven
Of my words
And deeds
Evil
But I wonder
The river
Full of flowing water
Erosion
At the both end
In full swing
I dropp some boulders
But it keeps
Spreading
Throat and tongue
Full of filthy words
And Sour pickle
I sing
Seek pardon
Pray and praise
All these things
Become nothing
But noise
During months
Eleven
Overweight
With illegal diet
Out of practice
Out of ring
I play
But fouls.
Lust and greed
Eaten away
My flesh
Coveting
Has burnt
The soul
Only skeleton
Left
On the bed
Lying I see
The fan
At the ceiling
With ball bearing
Moving
With high speed
I stand up
And switch off
But it keeps moving.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Haiku In Colours
van gogh
in the field
etching haiku
onto canvas
each stroke
a colourful haiku
for posterity
sunflowers
eleven brothers vie
for attention
the fortunate ones
coloured bright yellow
the rest resign
themselves to fate
bow humbly
and live in the others' shadows
eleven lucky blooms
worth more than a hundred millions
they do not fit into my pot
but in my heart they blaze in glory, always
van gogh's genius pours
unrelentingly
from eye to eye,
heart to heart
igniting the artist's passion
in each of us
once in a while, i too feel like
etching haiku in colours
encapsulating that extraordinary moment
ideas in wondrous colours, shapes and dreams
so that they too would turn out to be loving works of insanity
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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What Am I Waiting For
Its six minutes until eleven
The phone rings but its never you
I wont walk the floor
Ill just watch it
Stood up, impatient, and blue
Chorus:
What am I waiting for?
She might never show
What am I waiting for?
My legs wont let me go
What am I waiting for?
What am I waiting for?
Shell never get here
Its not that Im worried about her
Shell think of some brand new excuse
So why am I all alone and crazy?
While shes having fun running loose
Chorus
Its six minutes after eleven
But Im talking about the next day
Our date was just made to be broken
I guess some things just never change
Chorus
What am I waiting for?
What am I waiting for?
What am I waiting for?
Shell never get here
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Australian Eleven
You have bearded the lion in his den,
You have singed the original cricket
Upon his own hearth, and beaten his men
On a genuine English wicket;
And so the Australian kangaroo
Has a right good right to be proud of you.
That you’ve had your even share of the luck
We’ll allow, argumenti gratia,
But you won the great match by downright pluck,
And accordingly Australasia
Accords such a welcome to her Eleven
As for peaceful triumph never was given.
Let us pray that if ever Fate commands
Us to step into the arena,
With foils without buttons on, hearts and hands
Be forthcoming without subpoena
To uphold the name of the kangaroo
As the Australian Eleven do.
May we have a Massie as bold and quick
In our van to dismay the foeman,
A leader like Murdoch to strike or stick,
And yield, like our Murdoch, to no man;
And another Horan to lay about him
Like Tommy, however the for may “scout” him.
And no lack of “Palmers” if in extremis,
Or of Boyles to plague the Egyptians,
Or Garretts to fly to if pressed the team is;
Or of men to take all descriptions
Of balls which may come at them, quite as coolly
As Blackham, who even out-Pooley’s Pooley.
May we have a Banner-man stern and staunch
In stonewalling as little Sydney,
And a giant, his thunderbolt to launch
O’er the field, just of Bonner’s kidney;
And a dauntless Mac, to strike like a man
When our men are falling fast in the van;
And all-around men such as Giffen and Jones,
And a “demon” to reinforce us
In case we should be over-matched for once
And the foe beginning to course us,
To come as Spoff like an angel from heaven
To help us to beat the English Eleven.
To speak in plain English, we pray for this,
That if in the struggles before us
The tempest of warfare which ravages
The Old World no longer blows o’er us,
We may show the same skill and dash and pluck,
And if we do this we may laugh at luck.
poem by Douglas Brooke Wheelton Sladen
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Snake Eyes
(lead vocal - chris rainbow)
Snake eyes
Seven eleven
Dont let me down boys
Gimme
Snake eyes
Seven eleven
Dont let me down tonight
No dont let me down tonight
Just one minute more, give me just one minute more
Its gonna be alright, its gonna be alright
Just one minute more, then Ill walk right through that door
Its gonna be alright, its gonna be alright
If ya gimme
Snake eyes
Seven eleven
Dont let me down boys
Snake eyes
Seven eleven
Dont let me down tonight
No dont let me down tonight
Just one minute more, then Ill walk right through that door
Its gonna be alright, its gonna be alright
Butcha gotta
Gimme one more marker more
Then Ill walk right through that door
Gimme one more, dont let me down
Its gonna be alright, alright, alright
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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