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 World Bows Before Sachin, India Bows Before Bangladesh
The much awaited century
Of this centuary fructified at last
When Sachin flicked a ball
On the leg side
And ran, nay walked, his
Hundredth run again Bangladesh for the first time
The celebration knew no bounds
The President and the Prime Minister of India
Are among those who joined
The cricket world to congratulate
Sachin on this feat
But, as an Indian
I felt it was a let down
For Team India
As it suffered a defeat
At the hands of an opponent
Who are a reasonably new entry
Into International Cricket
Many would get angry with me
When I say
That Sachin's hundredth hundred was
Only responsible for this defeat
He might have played well
But, definite he played very slow
Probably, keeping in mind
The much talked about century of his
It was not an one dayer he played
He was inching and inching towards his century
He, definitely, performed a feat
But paved way, in the process a defeat
True, cricketing world has reasons
To applaude him
But, Team India has stronger reasons
To fault him
Sachin blasted, really? , his century
And Bangladesh blasted India
It was Sachin's gain
It was Team India's pain
poem by Bashyam Narayanan

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Isn't cricket supposed to be a team sport? I feel people should decide first whether cricket is a team game or an individual sport.
quote by Sachin Tendulkar

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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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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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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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Hitting a baseball well, as in cricket, is a very rare skill. One of most difficult things to do in the world to do, hitting a ball coming at you at ninety miles an hour with a round bat. Wonderful to watch.
quote by Peter Tork

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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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Let Me Play Football
Let me run on the field
Of a crowded football stadium,
The ball is sticky to my leg,
Let the opponent’s defenders to come.
Let me head the ball with full force,
When my team player does a corner kick,
I want to place the ball in opponent’s net,
That’s an honour more than climbing Everest’s pick.
Let my team’s footballers hug me,
When I score a world class goal,
And I shall preserve my supporters’ celebration
Forever in my golden soul.
poem by Biswajit Ganguly

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Being a Husband/Boyfriend/Man
I have seen this happen before
You win, I lose, you keep score
Never have you told the rules to me
Asking you is like inviting blasphemy
As soon as I learn to win
You change the game, (oh what a sin)
I struggle to keep my points high
No help from you, not even a sigh
I put in extra just to be at par
But never seem catch up to your speeding car
I understand golf, tennis, cricket and football
But this one thing makes my head spin and fall
I was a player before I met you
Now I am just a loser without a clue
jsjv
poem by Jasjiv Singh

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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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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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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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Futbol
There he is standing on the field, looking around and laughing
he wants to see what you see from the stands, himself basking, charming.
The ball slips from the fingers of a dazzled referee and he kicks out,
deftly he is gliding in and out between his opponents, he is glorious.
Then where has the goal gone that it is no longer before him?
So that he spins around and is aghast and desperate with anxiety?
His opponent grins and lives the sport, he breathes the dance,
and he chants in his heart the reality of his passion, as he flies!
You do not doubt that he is dancing, because his eyes are singing.
He floats above the grass, he lifts his knees high and tumbles low.
He watches from afar as his body works his will like an oiled puppet,
and he is certainly a masterful puppeteer, he grins and slides.
Where did our laughing hero go who was so handsome with the crowd?
He is behind, running to catch up and wondering in shock what happened.
His opponent tips the ball into the air with a gentle kick of the toe.
He positions himself and pirouettes slowly, the ball goes flying.
The goalie's heart pumps like a psychotic ocean, he is freaking out now.
The ball parts the breath's of his team mates and loopty loops into the net.
Four tenths of a second after the ball flits into the net, the goalie blocks
and slaps air and is laid out at the post, feeling bested by a better man.
Again and again the dancer, the puppeteer, rides the ball down the field.
Score. Score. Score. Score. Score. There is the clock and the game is over.
Our hero grimaces in angst and seethes at glory lost and wonders...
where was he when he was most needed, where was all his glory and fame?
How was he bested by an up-and-coming punk, he wondered with shock.
When did the cinematographer of this movie decide that his part was over?
He overheard the answer at a news conference after the game
'He knows the rules better than he knows the sport, ' said his opponent
with a grin.
poem by Poet Dragon

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I need my football fix
I hate it when the season's over
because football is a drug to me
I have to go cold turkey
and my mind is all at sea.
I can't stand summer sports
like Tennis, Golf, and Cricket,
I've no interest in Wimbledon
and which bowler has taken a wicket.
The months just drag on by
because I need my football fix
so I lie on a beach somewhere
and dream about my team scoring six.
The shrink said I'm a hopeless case
one of the worse cases he's ever seen
he said I was the only patient he'd had
who lied on the couch reading a soccer magazine.
But all I want is next season to hurry up
so I can stop being bored and fed up
then I can go and watch my team
win every game and the F.A.Cup!
poem by Kevin Halls

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Fondly wish you to cross many more milestones so far unheard of
Fondly wish you to cross many more milestones so far unheard of
It was at a tender age
When Sachin Tendulkar
Started playing international cricket
Facing the hardest of play ball
Bowled or hurled at breathe-taking speed
It is unfair to call him little master any more
He proved himself to be a tall master
The mark he scaled yesterday,24 Feb 2010
Against South Africa at Gwalior
Will remain unscaled for long years
It was his day because
He did all the 50 over batting
And all the 50 over fielding
Twenty years in cricket
Plenty of runs to his credit
It is not just bat hitting the ball
It is not simply the technique
It is not again the physical strength
It is the combination of all these with perseverance
And a mind to be there, remain focused
On the requirement of the time
Executing his potential with perfection
No doubt, he has to scale this height
He is vocal when it comes to nationalism
And minding not the wrath, he voiced
To displease a group of his own linguistic state
With regional fanaticism
He made Indians proud
By registering himself to be first person
To reach a score so far untouched
He is a nationalist
As he chose to
Dedicate the full credit of his yesterday’s feat
For Indians
Nothing else can crown him better
But this national outlook
He does not require any further advice
But needs to be wished well
For a long, healthy and happy living
Only to cross many more milestones so far unheard of
poem by Bashyam Narayanan

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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

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Novel cause
India has tasted defeat
And got early exit
From the World Cup Cricket.
Who is the cause- a heated discussion?
‘Players, the captain, the coach,
The selectors, the club’s president
The minister for sport, ’ critics said.
One said it is Indhira Gandhi,
Who had died long ago
As it was she who made Bangladesh,
At whose team India had lost.
23.03.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

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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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Tendulkar's 100th Ton
My father gave a chocolate
when I walked hundred steps
In eighth standard, in maths
I got hundred out of hundred.
The hundred meant me more
When I watched Tendulkar,
hitting his hundredth century
after previous, waiting almost a year.
Delighted every spectator
watching the great cricketer,
either in the ground or television
hitting historic hundredth ton.
Since last ton hit in March last
waited eagerly every fan and sportsman
March 16 of twelve was set
to witness that great moment.
Every one was waiting fully excited
date would go down in history of cricket
Tendulkar would score hundredth hundred
setting the milestone of achievement
(C) S D Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari

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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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