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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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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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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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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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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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 poetry of the earth is never dead
True that the poetry of the earth is never dead
The grasshopper and the cricket testify that
But another great war will take place
It will a nuclear one I am sure
That will be the end of grasshopper and cricket
That will be the end of the poetry of earth
Presently with another great war
our dear earth will turn into a piece of charcoal in a moment
to dissolve in the space
Thank you Herr Einstein
Thank you Oppenheimer
Thank you Gamow
Thanks to the disinterested curiosity of science
To me the meanest flower that blows
tells me what man has made of the earth
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Rhyme of Sachin Tendulkar
Thou' Cricket is not religion;
Sachin is our god,
Thou' British are Founder,
Sachin is invader.
We owned India,
British conquered it;
British owned Criket,
Sachin conqered it.
Talent sticks to that precious diomond,
Just like magnet sticks to iron.
Talent and efforts in practice matches,
Made king of international cricket.
Neither difficulties nor attraction,
Each fails in bending Tendulkar,
Whether it is fast-track of South Africa
Or Green top of Newzealand,
Sachin mesmerized all Indians by his performence on these land.
Never lost his courage
Whatever difficulties came in Carrier,
Face all difficulties by himself encouraging,
And fight with all of them like iron barrier.
And now whether it test or ODI
Sachin sir is leading run scorer.
Not king but emperor of Cricket,
The wierd guy Tendulkar,
Made Ton of Ton in International Cricket,
And become supremo of Cricket.
Played many many memorable Innings for India,
His Upper-cut is thrilling,
While Cover drive is quivering,
Master's every shot is quite trembling.
He is very very gentle sage,
But can't tolerate any challenge,
Not tell anything in Press-Conference,
But proceedin Play-Conference.
Whether it is Waqar, Warne or Akhtar,
He beat all like unstoppable runner.
People say- Sachin is God, But,
I don't agree,
God is Sachin,
This is true, true and true.
Lucky fortunate this Mumbai city,
Who bloom such wonderful blossom
Who re-defined Cricket;
By his talent,
By his stamina,
By his potential,
By his will.
And now,121 crore people of India calls you:
Go Sachin go...
Go Sachin go...
poem by Indrajeet Mishra
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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
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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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Cricket on the Hearth
When red-nosed Winter takes the road,
An icicle his walking-stick,
When frost is on the woodman's load,
And snow is falling fast and thick,
Come, lusty youth and sapless eld,
Let's make a circle round the blaze
And talk of stumps,
Of nasty bumps,
That flew and came in sunny days.
For Cricket is played again, again,
At freezing time in Hull or Bath;
When summer's done the game's not gone--
There's Cricket on the Hearth!
Here's Jones from Rugby, Eton Jack,
And Grandpapa who, long ago,
Loved hitting when the Field was slack,
And crumped the bowling, swift or slow!
No more he's nimble on the green,
But what a history he tells
Of Surrey men
And hits for ten,
And heaps of most tremendous Swells!
For Cricket is played again, again,
At freezing time in Hull or Bath;
When summer's done the game's not gone--
There's Cricket on the Hearth!
The girls may call to Hide-and-Seek,
And lovely lasses take the floor;
But we discuss the Lob and Sneak,
The Canvas, Umpire, Over, Score!
How great a game to fill July,
May, June, and August with delights,
Yet in the frost
Be never lost,
But stir the blood on nipping nights!
For Cricket is played again, again,
At freezing times in Hull or Bath;
When summer's done the game's not gone--
There's Cricket on the Hearth!
poem by Norman Rowland Gale
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Sonnet: On Indian Cricket
The One-Day Cricket is live telecast;
'Tis India versus another great team;
The clime is good and pitch really fast;
The Indian batsmen now face bowler's seam.
The spectators hold placards and make noise;
Most fellowmen are glued to T.V-sets;
A 'sixer' makes all country-men rejoice;
The Indian players were good at the 'nets'!
Most unpredictable team are our boys;
Their team-work's seen once in a way, by luck;
Yet, players score a century with poise;
Some famous players come home with a 'duck'.
And still, they break records so very oft;
Their cricket is an entertaining art.
Dedicated to the Indian Cricket Players
30-9-2000 by Dr John Celes
********
poem by John Celes
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Cricket's Love Song
cricket's shrill
courting love
each shrill digs
at my lonely heart
each shrill
an extra inch
of lonelines
cricket's shrill
a field of love songs
not even one for me
each shrill chills
this lonely heart
cricket's shrill
courting love
i wonder whether
she would come
for this late night tryst
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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Inspired by Issa - The Cricket hops
our quiet conversation
now where's that intruder
the cricket?
inspired by
the cricket hops
atop the winnowing fan's
dust pile
-Issa,1819
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Undying Angels Love
Cricket’s fly, butterflies die
Angels wings, angels fly
Yesterdays dreams tomorrow will pass by
My angel stays...yes our love wont cry
The time of my soul will wait
And angels won’t fear to let me grieve
I’m here my angel I’m here
Let me lightened your darkest days
I’m here my angel, I’m here
You and I, never let fall our tears
I love you my cricket angel
Love always, your butterfly angel won’t leave..
i love you...
always,
- your butterfly angel -
poem by Tough Angel fly purple butterfly fly
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Cricket Is A Serious Thing
In politics there’s room for jest;
With frequent gibes are speeches met,
And measures which are of the best
Are themes for caustic humor yet.
E’en though the pulpiteer we fret
With sundry quiddities we fling,
We pray you never to forget
That cricket is a serious thing.
The crowd assembles at a Test,
And Hobbs at length is fairly set,
Though Gregory rocks ‘em in with zest;
The barrackers may fume and fret
When Parkin has contrived to get
Five men of ours – we feel the sting,
And give expression to regret,
For cricket is a serious thing.
They have the lead; we would arrest
A sort of rot. No epithet
Is proper, though they’ve got our best
For next to nothing, and your bet
Is good as lost. Don’t sit and sweat;
Due reverence to the problem bring.
We have a pile of runs to net –
Ah, cricket is a serious thing.
poem by Edward George Dyson
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My Hero Lives Much Nearer
If your hero is Steve Waugh the cricket player I must say that suits me fine
But I've heard enough about him since your hero isn't mine,
My hero lives much nearer his house is across the street
And his name is Jack Iversen a man I often meet.
If you want a favour done to Steve Waugh you can go
But in your moment of need you he would not wish to know,
You well may have his autograph on your cricket bat and ball
But I don't see that as a favour 'tis no big deal at all.
If I need a favour done on Jack I can depend
To many who have been in need he has proved himself a good friend
Without expecting any favours in return he will help you if he can
He's not out to 'feather his own nest' I like that sort of man.
My hero is in his seventies his hair is silvery gray
And for to help out other people he goes out of his way
And your's is a cricket player who enjoys widespread fame
And though you may have his autograph he doesn't know you by name.
Steve Waugh Australia's cricket captain is your hero a man you once briefly met
And he scribbled his name on your bat and ball something you won't forget
But my hero lives nearer he is just across the way
And he doesn't hog the headlines and I see him every day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Soccer and cricket were my main sports growing up. I had trials as a soccer player with a few clubs interested, Crystal Palace being one, but it was cricket which became my chosen profession.
quote by Ian Botham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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