All Out
Cricket match
play for ground...
Rain was
Taken all wicket...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Related quotes
A Win Of Cricket 2011
So I remember this cricket we win
with fresh flower for you Indians
and the wonderful sights you made here
winning the match 2011
Then we 'll go to there
deep under the emotions
and go over a great moments
to skate through our great dreams
and be under the thrill
I love to play with them,
And to watch them with you
I cannot live without cricket
I will never forget playing cricket in those days
poem by Thampi KEE
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Patience Is Dying
Five day cricket tests were in vogue;
Then came in the one day cricket match.
Now four hour match is popular.
Is patience or stupidity gone?
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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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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The Match
out...
all
ground feel
very sad...
at match
of cricket
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Bed Play
Bed is
Not play ground...
Play boy
Play the bed...
A cricket...
with out dresses
At young women...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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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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What...?
Play boy
Play
At cricket
Ground...
With bra...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Life match
husband and
wife...
life was
Nice cricket...
One day match everyday life...
Ground is...
Bed room too
Cook room...
Office...
Run to run...
Wife and husband...
Not take easy...
Some time...
Out...
Some time...
Not out...
Some time clean bold....
Day for day this one day
Life live match...
All are not out...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Rain,rain
Why am I here if youre there
So far away its not fair
To be without you like this
I miss you more than you know
The nights are long
The days slow
Without the warmth of your kiss
Wish you were back here with me
Cause out my window
All is see is
Rain , rain in the sky
Everywhere I look my eyes see
Rain , rain fallin down
Crying as it hits the ground
Rain , rain in my heart
Every day that were apart
Rain , rain
Falling rain , rain
Rain , rain
Only rain , rain
The sun is strong when youre near
But when youre gone it disappears
Behind an ocean of blue
The telephones not good enough
It cant reach out it cant touch
Me like the way you do
Wish you would knock at my door
Cause only you can stop the pouring
Rain , rain in the sky
Everywhere I look my eyes see
Rain , rain fallin down
Crying as it hits the ground
Rain , rain in my heart
Every day that were apart
Rain , rain
Falling rain , rain
Rain , rain
Only rain , rain
Maybe ill go outside
And walk beneath the clouds
Pretend its you thats watching over me
This isnt the only thing that comes
Between us now
Baby soon well be together
Oooo
( everywhere I look I see rain )
( everywhere I look I see rain )
Rain
( everywhere I look I see rain )
Everywhere I look I see rain
( everywhere I look I see rain )
Rain
( everywhere I look I see rain )
Rain
( rain , rain in the sky )
( everywhere I look my eyes see rain )
Rain
( rain falling down )
Down
( crying as it hits the ground )
Dont , dont let it hit the ground
( rain , rain in my heart everyday that were apart )
( rain , rain )
Rain
( falling rain, rain )
Rain
( rain, rain )
Everywhere I look I see rain
Everywhere I look I see rain
But I dont see you
Youre not near me
I need you ooo
Rain
Itll never be the same
If you dont stop the rain
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bat
Cricket bat
Play hockey
At school ground...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Cricket
(sung by the vicar)
Some people say that life is a game, well if this is so
Id like to know the rules on which this game of life is based.
I know of no game more fitting than the age old game of cricket
It has honour, it has character and its british.
Now God laid down the rules of life when he wrote those ten commandments
And to cricket those ten same rules shall apply.
Show compassion and self-righteousness and be honest above all
And come to gods call with bat and ball.
Now the devil has a player and hes called the demon bowler,
Hes shrewd, hes rude and hes wicked.
He is sent by sinful satan and hes out to take your wicket
And you know that thats not cricket.
Hell baffle you with googlies with leg breaks and offspin
But keep a level head and dont let that demon in.
So keep a straight bat at all times, let the Bible be your guide
And youll get by, yes youll get by.
All through your life hell try to bowl you out
Beware the demon bowler.
Hes crafty and deceitful and hell try to l.b.w.,
And bowl a maiden over.
The devil takes the weak in spirit and so we must always be courageous
And remember that God is on your side.
So keep old satan in your sights and play the straight and narrow line
And youll get by, yes youll get by.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Mean to Say
We mean to say, it never has been granted
That anyone but England could decide,
In the crease or at the wicket,
Just exactly what was cricket
And, of course, I mean to say, we have our pride.
The great old game was, as it were, invented
On the playing fields of Eton, and all that,
And to try to steal our thunder
When you think we've made a blunder
Why, dear old bean, that's talking thro' the hat!
We mean to say - the game originated
With us, back in the dear old top-hat days,
And the gentlemen who played it,
By their sterling methods, made it
A top-hole game for sportsmen - hence the phrase.
So, hang it all! If something 'isn't cricket'
It's our prerogative to say so, flat.
And it's cheek, you know, cool cheek,
When you dash in, so to speak,
And take the words out of our mouths like that.
We mean to say, there's quite a choice of phrases
That you might use, if you must make a fuss.
Curse away of you feel hot;
But it's simply bally rot
To apply our own pet shibboleth to us!
There's the code, you know - our code, we would remind you.
We made it for ourselves, and mean to stick it.
And to try to knock us flat
With a boomerang like that
By gad! It isn't done! It isn't cricket!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Listener
Why, certainly. Let's listen to the cricket.
Oh, I'm quite keen. Test match, I understand.
At... What's that? Oh, Australia's at the wicket.
South Africa - a most intriguing land.
Yes, I was there in - nineteen - let me see
In nineteen - Dear me! Memory is so tricky.
Met Cecil Rhodes, you know. He said to me,
I recollect - eh? Oh. The wicket's sticky.
Great Cecil Rhodes. There was a master mind,
A dreamer, yet so practical, creative.
South Africa, Well, well. Today I find
Their urgent problem doubtless is the native,
Zulus, you know. Basutos. In the war
With Kruger - Eh? Oh, sorry. Are they playing?
Really? What's all the caterwauling for?
Eagleton out? Pity... What was I saying?
Of course, yes, Africa. I've seen it all,
From Jo'burg up thro' Kenya to Fashoda.
One night in Cairo I plainly recall
(Oh, thanks. A very small one. Heaps of soda)...
That day I brought my first big lion down -
Wounded, you know. I thought my time had ended.
Just then Smith fired - Beg pardon? Brown? Who's Brown?
Oh, hit another fourer did he? Splendid!...
...So then the old witch doctor made his magic.
Ghastly! Incredible! Yet, who could doubt?
That's Africa, mysterious primal, tragic,
Those voodoo rites ... McCabe? Is he yet out?
What? Finished, have they? Thought I missed the din.
Twenty to two? It can't be! Shocking! Shocking!
Thanks for allowing me to listen in.
Enjoyed it, too. Well, I shan't need much rocking.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Twice a Week the Winter Thorough
Twice a week the winter thorough
Here stood I to keep the goal:
Football then was fighting sorrow
For the young man's soul.
Now in Maytime to the wicket
Out I march with bat and pad:
See the son of grief at cricket
Trying to be glad.
Try I will; no harm in trying:
Wonder 'tis how little mirth
Keeps the bones of man from lying
On the bed of earth.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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When it rains it pours
Rain is a strange thing
when you want it
it never comes,
and when you don't
it arrives in bucket loads.
Like at a barbecue
it will put a stop to that,
but you need it for your plants
so you won't get none for weeks.
You go out in just a t.shirt
and you get soaking wet,
but the weatherman said
it will stay dry all day.
I wonder if the weather people
told Noah it wasn't going to rain?
Don't worry I bet they said,
just the odd shower possible.
Rain stops sporting events
waterlogged pitches,
rain stopped play at Cricket
no Tennis at Wimbledon.
Grown ups dislike rain
but it doesn't bother kids
adults walk around puddles
but children just dive on in.
Rain can ruin holidays
sat in a caravan all week,
but you can guarantee one thing,
on your last day the sun will come out!
poem by Kevin Halls
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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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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
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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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