How the wise Master's mesmerized World?
In Colombo heating
And cost of living flies high
Like a sky rocket
But they play cricket outdoor.
A poor man bowls to a well to do batsman
And he hits the ball that goes over the boundary line.
Skinny umpire raises hardly his rickety both hands to the sky
And marked as six for the batsman!
In Alaska freezing, children play snow ball on mountain peaks
And the diabetic father who runs to the world's edge
And he pees, the longest frozen sugar rod and it goes to the Record book!
In middle East boiling, Centigrade hundred or Fahrenheit two hundred and twelve it seems.
A brother kills his own brother for Democracy
And the tyrant King hides in a Harem
And play chess with concubines
That goes to the modern civilization!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Brahma – Spin Bowl after Andrew Land, Ralph Waldo Emerson et al
Spin bowl Oh ball of fate, in parabole!
Ten thousand overs dare your drive in vain.
Man marks the earth with whitewash, his control
stops at the stumps and balls you soon shall gain.
The wickets are your prey, and it is plain
your shadow spins so fast that not a sole
batsman’s left before that dropp of rain
calls the inning’s toss and sweeps each soul
back to the pavilion whence it came.
6 August 1991 Parody Andrew LANG and Ralph Waldo Emerson - Brahma
See also Brahma Revisited
Brahma
If the wild bowler thinks he bowls,
Or if the batsman thinks he's bowled,
They know not, poor misguided souls,
They too shall perish unconsoled.
I am the batsman and the bat,
I am the bowler and the ball,
The umpire, the pavilion cat,
The roller, pitch, and stumps, and all.
Andrew LANG 1844_1912
Parody Ralph Waldo EMERSON – Brahma
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sounds From The Baseball Field
Batter in the home place,
That was nobly done;
Try and get the first base-
Run!
Run
! RUN!
Ah, there, short stop, will you miss?
Hear the people cheer and hiss,
Hear them yell and shout.
Twinkling legs and flying feet-
(Oh, I wonder who will beat!)
Faster, faster, out!
Umpire, umpire, go along;
That was wrong, sir, that was wrong.
Pitcher pitches, four balls,
'Take your base, my man.'
Toward the second now he crawls-
'Steal it if you can.'
Oh, the ball has gone so high,
Can they catch it on the fly?
Ah, there is no doubt,
He will get his third, I vow-
Pshaw! the ball has got there now,
'Two men out!'
Umpire, umpire, that was wrong;
Go along, sir, go along.
One man on the first base,
Not a single run.
Boys are warming to the race-
Now look out for fun.
Pitcher's arm maybe is tired;
Batter sudden seems inspired,
Grounds the ball to win.
Run there, run there, run your best,
I am screaming with the rest
'Two men in!'
Umpire, umpire, go away;
Dead wrong, dead wrong, sir, I say.
What's the matter now, pray?
Taking breath, that's all;
But the restless people say
'Play ball, play ball.'
One ball, two strikes, two balls-'Foul.'
Umpire calls, and people howl:
'What is he about?'
Run, run, run, run, Run,
Run
, RUN!
Half the inning now is done,
'Three men out!'
Umpire, umpire, go along;
You are always, always wrong.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Grand Rapids Cricket Club
In Grand Rapids is a handsome club,
Of men that cricket play,
As fine a set of skillful men
That can their skill display.
They are the champions of the West,
They think they are quite fine,
They've won a hundred honors well;
It is their most cunning design.
Brave Kelso, he's considered great,
Chief of the club he is found;
Great crowds he draws to see him bowl
The ball upon the ground.
And Mr. Follet is very brave,
A lighter player than the rest,
He got struck severe at the fair ground
For which he took a rest.
When Mr. Dennis does well play,
His courage is full great,
And accidents to him occur,
But not much, though, of late.
This ball play is a dangerous game,
Brave knights to play it though;
Those boys would be the nation's pride,
If they to war would go.
From Milwaukee their club did come,
With thoughts of skill at play,
But beat they was, and then went home --
Had nothing more to say.
Grand Rapids club that cricket play,
Will soon be known afar,
Much prouder do the members stand,
Like many a noble star.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Ethics for Infants
Now, children, in this lesson of a rather novel sort
Let us dwell, however briefly, on the moral phase of sport,
Taking cricket, for example, and those vague unwritten laws
Which, when observed, bring harmony, and help the noble cause
Of sportsmanship; but, understand, opinions given here
And rules of conduct specified are just as they appear.
To me and sundry others who see eye to eye with me
While 'tis candidly admitted other folk may disagree.
Eample one: When bowling we'll suppose, without intent,
You hurt a batsman badly so that half his strength be spent.
Now, the law, as I conceive it; is to give the man a chance
And to treat him rather gently while he flounders in trance.
That's sportsmanship, true sportsmanship as it appears to me;
Tho', as I have remarked before, some folk may disagree.
They would set a leg trap for him and attack him out of hand!
But that's a trick that you and I could never understand.
Example two: When bowling you have got a batsman out
But the umpire has not seen it, and the issue is in doubt;
The batsman gets the benefit and profits by the same.
And you? Why you regard it as the fortune of the game.
But, should you lose your temper and show plainly you are peeved,
Well, I and who thnk like me would be just a little grieved,
A little bit ashamed, you know, or so it seems to me,
Tho' remember clearly, children, other folk may disgaree.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Ballad Of The Children Of The Czar
1
The children of the Czar
Played with a bouncing ball
In the May morning, in the Czar's garden,
Tossing it back and forth.
It fell among the flowerbeds
Or fled to the north gate.
A daylight moon hung up
In the Western sky, bald white.
Like Papa's face, said Sister,
Hurling the white ball forth.
2
While I ate a baked potato
Six thousand miles apart,
In Brooklyn, in 1916,
Aged two, irrational.
When Franklin D. Roosevelt
Was an Arrow Collar ad.
O Nicholas! Alas! Alas!
My grandfather coughed in your army,
Hid in a wine-stinking barrel,
For three days in Bucharest
Then left for America
To become a king himself.
3
I am my father's father,
You are your children's guilt.
In history's pity and terror
The child is Aeneas again;
Troy is in the nursery,
The rocking horse is on fire.
Child labor! The child must carry
His fathers on his back.
But seeing that so much is past
And that history has no ruth
For the individual,
Who drinks tea, who catches cold,
Let anger be general:
I hate an abstract thing.
4
Brother and sister bounced
The bounding, unbroken ball,
The shattering sun fell down
Like swords upon their play,
Moving eastward among the stars
Toward February and October.
But the Maywind brushed their cheeks
Like a mother watching sleep,
And if for a moment they fight
Over the bouncing ball
And sister pinches brother
And brother kicks her shins,
Well! The heart of man in known:
It is a cactus bloom.
5
The ground on which the ball bounces
Is another bouncing ball.
The wheeling, whirling world
Makes no will glad.
Spinning in its spotlight darkness,
It is too big for their hands.
A pitiless, purposeless Thing,
Arbitrary, and unspent,
Made for no play, for no children,
But chasing only itself.
The innocent are overtaken,
They are not innocent.
They are their father's fathers,
The past is inevitable.
6
Now, in another October
Of this tragic star,
I see my second year,
I eat my baked potato.
It is my buttered world,
But, poked by my unlearned hand,
It falls from the highchair down
And I begin to howl
And I see the ball roll under
The iron gate which is locked.
Sister is screaming, brother is howling,
The ball has evaded their will.
Even a bouncing ball
Is uncontrollable,
And is under the garden wall.
I am overtaken by terror
Thinking of my father's fathers,
And of my own will.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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Kick Off Ball
Kick off ball,
Kick the ball to win the game!
But, with fair play.
Player,
Lyricist,
Arranger,
Keeper,
Composer,
Winner! !
But it was only yesterday that i found you;
And like the game ball in the land of your muse.
Face to face,
Again and again!
But pay and take it;
And, play the match to win the game! !
Play the ball,
Kick the ball,
And like the African Cup of Nations!
Race, ace, face, brace, mace, place, lace;
But words are things upon a thought,
And like something long lost! !
However, play the ball into the net to win the game.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Cricket Ball
A ball spends its time with Time,
Spilling agony, waste and collisions so rightly found;
By this we spoke too loudly of the ball I’m
Spinning like in cricket, and all this sound!
The field caught my ball this over,
Expensive play! Expensive day of my sport.
There needs a container
For this cricket ball, my real important sort.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Play To Play
Play to play
Not for home
Not for bed...
Play to
The ground...
Play with
Ball and the bat
OR run and play...
Live your body
Good for health
Have the nice...!
Twice the day
Morning and
Evening go to play...
That is secerat
Of your life
Understand
To try with
Play to play
Day by day....!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Razors Edge
Never callin, unanswered letters,
How you been, feelin better?
Never lookin, but youre hearin,
Never speakin, but youre feeling
All the silence, and its wounding,
Youre not healing, just concealing
Play the game, play the game
Chorus:
Oh brother to brother, all the blood runs red
Dont roll over, dont play dead
Were all livin on the razors edge
Oh brother to brother, all the blood runs ruby red
Were all victims of the razors edge
All the rules dont mean a thing,
Theyre wasting time,
The memries sting
Keep your image, plant that smile,
Answer questions, dont let on
Make up stories all put on,
Thats your life, oh,
Your life is gone
(chorus)
You see youre losing, yet you still try
The game just awatches your life go by
Youre playin well,
Youre playin - why?
Oh, play the game
You see youre losing, yet you still try
The game just awatches your life go by
Youre playin well,
Oh youre playin the game
(chorus)
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every One's Talking,
every one's talking,
all they did to me,
they be talking,
I knew them for these pattern's,
every one's talking of I,
I don't think I have a brother,
no a sister,
the negation burn in me,
when trust is in selling your right's,
I know that you I loved,
Sustained my time,
I honour the Lord for taking me to Heaven,
Reason of life and death,
You sustained my blood,
Washed me and every one's talking of me,
All they do is talk ill of me,
When will us have peace, ?
War never stopping.
War escalating,
War of Iraq and America,
War of the Middle East,
All my brother's and sister's,
from America,
All my brother's and sister's
from Iraq,
All my brother's and sister's
from the Middle East,
Tell me what's going on,
President's
Tell me what's going on,
When you kill our brother's,
Steal our sister's,
Then I will be bothered,
That the war never end's,
When my brother's die from the middle east,
I'm ready to be a victim,
It really affect's each human being,
The world is not a boundary of countries,
The world is an integration of metaphysical volition,
Brothers and Sister's,
I don't need these trouble's,
Tell me what's going on,
I don't need these trouble's,
I've had enough from the world,
We don't need no more trouble's.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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Cory B
I love my little brother he
was there for all my struggle
we had so me many ups and
down I love my little brother
we never separate from each other
as we walk shoulder to shoulder
I got his back he has mine he's
all I need to defend whats ours
I love my little brother now we
getting older we start to understand
one another better you remember
how was use to be geeked to go to the
park and ball hard now look at you playing
with them books and ball I love my little
brother but he's not little anymore
he turned into man I remember I
use to hold his hands now I putting
money in his hands I love my little
brother he aint gotta worry about
no trouble coming his way cause
he troubles are my trouble and my
hustle is his hustle I love my little
brother so think twice about fucking
with my little brother and remember
he gotta big brother that love him like
a pair of jay's I swear I love my little
brother just look at HIM in school living out
a dream I use to dream playing ball
and staying up late studying with his
back up against the wall wondering where
the next dollar coming for shit just call
your big brother cause I love you little
brother and I got ya little nigga so he'll
never miss a fresh pair of jay's or af1's
'and I'll come up to Parkside to beat a nigga
ass lol but true' I love my brother
poem by Randy Bullocks
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The error was erred
A batsman was given out.
The umpire felt his error.
The next one was not given out
Though he was to be so.
The umpire knowingly did so.
He had made two errors
But his conscience became clear.
08.09.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Lovee Toys
Children's
All way's
wanted too
Play with
Toy's gun's...
Gun's are
Vilonted Simbol...
Vilont is
Very poor of love...
So...
Teach the parent...
Teach love...
At play toy's of
your children
Bat and ball
Or cat and dog...
With other's...Toy's..
Avoid a gun toy's...
Play with your
Children at
Too much better
Loving and gentel toy's..
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Her Name Was Snow (childrens story)
)
There is a story that not many children know
Of a young girl - her name was snow.
She would come down - you know not when
But she would become every child s friend.
Children would say that she was
“ as white- as white can be”.
And the suns reflections would dazzle me.
She could make herself “ a blanket on the ground”
Where children could roll and jump on her
And she would not make a sound.
Snow would only come in the winter months.
So that with her the children could play
She was very cold, but they loved her that way.
You could mold her like you would
A piece of clay, and that is the way
That she would stay.
You could make her as an igloo or
A very high wall, or roll her up and
Make her a ball.
There was so many things that you
Could make her to be.
but the thing that she wanted to be the most
Was a white sparkling ghost.
Where she could come when she liked
And the children could have a “snow” ball fight.
So children! When you don’t see snow
coming your way, then wish for her on Christmas day.
poem by Louis Rams
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Her Name Was Snow (children s story)
There is a story that not many children know
Of a young girl - her name was snow.
She would come down - you know not when
But she would become every child s friend.
Children would say that she was
“ as white- as white can be”.
And the suns reflections would dazzle me.
She could make herself “ a blanket on the ground”
Where children could roll and jump on her
And she would not make a sound.
Snow would only come in the winter months.
So that with her the children could play
She was very cold, but they loved her that way.
You could mold her like you would
A piece of clay, and that is the way
That she would stay.
You could make her as an igloo or
A very high wall, or roll her up and
Make her a ball.
There was so many things that you
Could make her to be.
but the thing that she wanted to be the most
Was a white sparkling ghost.
Where she could come when she liked
And the children could have a “snow” ball fight.
So children! When you don’t see snow
coming your way, then wish for her on Christmas day.
poem by Louis Rams
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Can I Play With Madness
Give me the sense to wonder
To wonder if Im free
Give me a sense of wonder
To know I can be me
Give me the strength to hold my head up
Spit back in their face
Dont need no key to unlock this door
Gonna break down the walls
Break out of this bad place
Can I play with madness
The prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness
Theres no vision there at all
Can I play with madness
The prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness
He said youre blind too blind to see
I screamed aloud to the old man
I said dont lie dont say you dont know
I say you pay for your mischief
In this world or the next
Oh and then he fixed me with a freezing glance
And the hellfires raged in his eyes
He said do you wanna know the truth son
Ill tell you the truth
Your souls gonna burn in a lake of fire
Can I play with madness
The prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness
Theres no vision there at all
Can I play with madness
The prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness
He said youre blind too blind to see
Can I play with madness
The prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness
Theres no vision there at all
Can I play with madness
The prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness
He said youre blind too blind to see
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Two Five
One hundred and twenty five
Beats to, beats to the minute
One hundred and twenty five
You get the notion with the motion
Then youre out on the floor
Fahrenheit, one hundred and two
Centigrade, its getting to you
Your heart is beating, eight to the bar
You cant control it so you hold it
Then youre out on the floor
On the floor
You feel it coming to ya
On the floor
You know its getting through ya
On the floor
You cant control the feeling
Let it go
See the faces passing
Smile in time
See the faces passing
All in line
You say, hey! can I take you home tonight?
But she knows that youre throwin a line
Shes heard it before, shell hear it again
Its the same pitch every time
Change your line of patter
Make her laugh, not at her
Change your line of patter
Make her laugh, not at her
She tells you her friend wants to say hello
But say that you dont want to know
Its her that youre throwing your glances to
Her that you want to know
Dont let her stray its a saturday night
The boys are after trouble
Youre in for a fight
One hundred and twenty five
Beats to, beats to the minute
One hundred and twenty five
You get the motion with the notion
Then youre out on the floor
Fahrenheit, one hundred and two
Centigrade, its getting to you
Your heart is beating, eight to the bar
You cant control it so you hold it
Then youre out on the floor
Reggae, reggae, reggae, reggae
See the faces passing
Smile in time
She says if youre lookin to take her home
Well Id better not be in late
But the look on her face
And the smile in her eyes say
Baby Im gonna wait
See the faces swimming
Hear the music dimming
Well Im all danced out, Im all done in
And Im starting to talk out of tune
We can go on a ride, we can jump in a boat
We can dance by the light of the moon
One hundred and twenty five
Beats to, beats to the minute
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Joki 10
play boy
take to bat
play cricket
a med night
on bed
with out ball
o...wear is girl?
cry pillow...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Analysis Of Baseball
It’s about
the ball,
the bat,
and the mitt.
Ball hits
bat, or it
hits mitt.
Bat doesn’t
hit ball, bat
meets it.
Ball bounces
off bat, flies
air, or thuds
ground (dud)
or it
fits mitt.
Bat waits
for ball
to mate.
Ball hates
to take bat’s
bait. Ball
flirts, bat’s
late, don’t
keep the date.
Ball goes in
(thwack) to mitt,
and goes out
(thwack) back
to mitt.
Ball fits
mitt, but
not all
the time.
Sometimes
ball gets hit
(pow) when bat
meets it,
and sails
to a place
where mitt
has to quit
in disgrace.
That’s about
the bases
loaded,
about 40,000
fans exploded.
It’s about
the ball,
the bat,
the mitt,
the bases
and the fans.
It’s done
on a diamond,
and for fun.
It’s about
home, and it’s
about run.
poem by May Swenson
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Play Paly
play boy
play cricket
on the bed...
with pillow bat...
bed ball...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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