The Game Of Fame
'GOLF-THE GAME OF FAME'
I was watching this golf tournament through the visitor's window
The opening pairs were standing under a big tree's shadow
I had been waiting here to see
Who shall the winner ultimately be?
My two sons were participating, and were outside
There were competing against each other, side by side
First session ended, and the players are now in the second half
I was watching them through the window, including the club staff
Everyone was trying their very best and hard
Well it's not an easy game, just like playing cards
I saw some players taking a short nap
This was some relief time for them and for I, after a gap
The third session of the game goes worst
Till the end of the game, we didn't knows who will be first
The game has begun to ooze
I was still watching them through the window, "Who is go'na loose? "
My two sons were slowly picking on the game
My thoughts were, "Who will earn the coveted fame? "
Opponent players were also moving off at last
I saw my younger one ‘playing pretty fast'
My elder one was rushing down the lane
Why his game slowing down the lane
The competition has become intense and difficult to bear
So, the victory time is getting close and near
Now the game has become fast enough
Oh! My younger son has now found a fluff
Players have now quickened and have hurried by
They seem to be working fast, as if to fly
At last, someone has to be won
Nobody else, it's my younger son
I was watching this golf tournament through the visitor's window
The opening pairs were standing under a big tree's shadow
BY SAMRA HAQ
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A Ritual of Victory
Out on the playing arena long about now,
Two teams are competing as if they are on trial.
Cheerleaders are entertaining with a new style,
Holding the attention of the crowd for a while.
The fans are cheering as loud as they can.
The players are inspired by the music of the band.
The scoreboard lights seem to blink at will,
The victor's final score is bright and still.
Shortly after the game, they'll all come in,
The players tuckered out, the coach with a grin.
Proud of their victory, they'll scarcely wait,
Specially if the post game ceremony is late.
It may be football or soccer or any other game,
A ritual of victory is basically the same.
The players huddle together and in unison say grace.
Wonder who is standing in my old place.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Watching For Pa
Three little forms in the twilight gray,
Searching the shadows across the way;
Two pair of black eyes, and one of blue --
Brimful of love, and of mischief too;
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
May, with her placid and thoughtful brow,
Beaming with kindness and love just now;
Willie the youngest, in anguish did lay,
Stealing sly kisses from sister May,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Nellie, with ringlets of sunny hue,
Cosily nested between the two;
Pressing her cheeks to the window pane,
Wishing the absent one home again.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Now there are shouts from the window seat;
There is a patter of childish feet;
Gaily they rush through the lighted hall --
"Coming at last" is the joyful call.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Golf-Slow Torture by Handicap
Golf is such a silly game
The less you play it-The greater the fame
But not alas for your average punter
Who stalks the long grass, more like a hunter.
He really isn't playing at all
Half the time he's looking for his ball.
Head always moving(if not hanging in shame)
The ball stays still, so the players to blame.
As more and more strokes we amass
Mainly playing from the longest grass
Temper flaming and words quite blue!
Are you sure this is the game for you?
The just one shot, that you do not thin
And look! Your nearest the pin
Bringing the fame that you seek
Ensuring your return, and the dream
That you will do better - next week!!!
poem by Keith Oldrey
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Solitair, a teacher
Solitaire is a card game
Developed for playing
By self with no opponent
The fact is you are
Playing your own self
This is what
Solitaire teaches you
You shuffle cards
You distribute them
Upside down
Over eight or ten rows
Not knowing which card
Lays where and in what order
Keeping only the top layer open
You start arranging
Cards in descending order
As you move an open card
The card immediately under
Opens up
The card opening up may or may ot be
Matching your requirements
While opening up card
Depends on your luck
Card moving is totally
Left to you and
A lot depends on your skill
But you keep playing
Till the time either you win
By accumulating suits in order
Or when you get stuck
With no more moving of cards possible
And you lose the game
Life is like that only
And as in solitaire you play it alone
Though you seemingly have partners
And you must know that
You are all alone playing your game
You act on visible opportunities
And as you act upon this
New venues opening up
One by one
Either to your surprise or shock
Still you keep playing the game of life
Expecting each time when you act
There will be favourable changes
And with further scopes for gaining
The only difference is that
You quit the game in solitaire
But in life the game leaves you
At its discretion
Leaving you to wonder
Whether you are a winner or loser
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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You hear all the time about European players playing the game. These players that come over at 17, 18 and 19, they just don't all of a sudden become skilled. From the time they were little fellas, they learned the fundamentals of the game. Let them create.
For A Round Of Golf
For leisure the game that so many do play
For a round of golf 'tis a beautiful day
By the wide slow flowing river that crawls to the sea
Men and women practice their strokes before their evening tea.
As a boy I believed hobby golfers had easy jobs
And that those who enjoyed golf were well to do snobs
But such antiquated thinking not relevant today
As all kinds of classes the game of golf play.
A beautiful day for a beautiful game
For most hobby golfers with no aspirations to fame
After work they go to the golf course in the evening sun
And play the eighteen holes for the sake of fun.
Of the praises of golf everybody doesn't sing
But for the participants a game without physical contact can be such a fun thing
In the golf course by the river that to the sea crawl
The crack of the iron on the stone hard golf ball.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Games, Gambling and Wars!
Playing game as training before waging war well
Kings, soldiers and all guys spent time in Chess!
As brave soldiers going to Mahabharata war then
All witness cricket players entering the field now!
Betting on cricket players go on outside the field
While spectators encouraging players as on arena!
Betting on horses in horse race after taking loan
There is no chance of knowing victory or defeat!
When game becomes serious after defeat both
Debtors and debtees have real fight to death now!
Same thing happened in Mahabharata epic too!
After dice game opponent became ruler ordering
Slaves spend 12 yrs. in forest and 1 yr. in incognito;
Then real war between Gauravas and Pandavas
Brought Lord Krishna to make dharma settle all!
If game becomes real act universal disaster is sure!
Games should foster friendship but not enmity ever;
Gambling should be banned for good of mankind sure!
poem by Ramesh T A
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The one game we all play
The one game we all play
We play games
To show our valour
And mainly to win
We do not mind going for coaching
If we feel we do not have the
Required strength to win
We play games
Either as a team or individual
The attempt is to demonstrate
That we are better talented
Than the team or member
Against whom we play
Nations enthuse people to play games
So that they add pride
Some games are played with
Gadgets and protective accessories
We have spectators to watch
The way we play
We have umpires and referees
Who ensure rules of the games
Are strictly adhered
And it is all a fair play
We play games indoor or outdoor
We play games in daylight
Or under artificial illumination
We score while playing
And the score achieved by a team or individual
In a specific time
Decides the winner
We telecast the games
We comment on the strengths and weaknesses
Of a team or individual
We conduct national and international
Tournaments to declare a team or individual
As champion
Irrespective of skills, race, gender
We all play a game
Which is played mainly to lose
It is an individual game
With no specific rules
With no umpire
With no spectator
With no commentator
With no TV coverage
With no scores
With no trophies
With no victory stands
With no top scorer
With no “player of the match”
But we play
Most of us like to play this game
Indoor and in closed doors
Decency and civilized ways
Do not allow this game being played in the open
There is no season for this game
It can be played any part of the day
And any part of the year
Summer, winter, monsoon seasons
Have no bearing on this game
The one requirement in this game is
Complete transparency and intimacy
Rules for this game
Vary from individual to individual
Rules also get refined
With the experience of the players
There are no restrictions to employ
Any method as both the players
Are determined to be the loser
Duration of play depends again
On the individuals
The game ends
Most often to the satisfaction
Of the both the players
In other games players declare
That they are retiring from playing
There is no retirement in this game
As players advance in age
They understand it is more a mind game
Outcome of this game
Are further more players
You guessed it right
It is the game of love
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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I was also very lucky to be a teammate of two of the greatest players to have ever played the game. I learned very early on by playing for Frank Robinson and with Henry Aaron that even the greatest players in the game were just one of the guys.
quote by Robin Yount
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Basketball
What Springfield needs most at their ‘Y, ' so they say,
Is good old athletic distraction
For rowdy boys pinned up inside all the day
By weather below satisfaction.
The teacher from Canada, tasked to design
An inside game, fair but not so rough
To him they have given a brutal deadline:
"Just two weeks or be fired! " And that's tough.
He's chosen the softest of big soccer balls
To not hurt the boys when they get hit,
Peach baskets are affixed high up on the walls
Reducing all rough contact unfit
The rules permit only the passing of balls
No dribbling or batting, to be safe.
And running the ball? Not allowed, lest the falls
Cause the limbs of the players to chafe
The peach basket goals, players never should guard
For the game is not just for the tall
But easy and fair to all, not at all hard
This game by John Naismith- ‘Basket Ball'
The Fool
"But it isn't playing the game," he said,
And he slammed his books away;
"The Latin and Greek I've got in my head
Will do for a duller day."
"Rubbish!" I cried; "The bugle's call
Isn't for lads from school."
D'ye think he'd listen? Oh, not at all:
So I called him a fool, a fool.
Now there's his dog by his empty bed,
And the flute he used to play,
And his favourite bat . . . but Dick he's dead,
Somewhere in France, they say:
Dick with his rapture of song and sun,
Dick of the yellow hair,
Dicky whose life had but begun,
Carrion-cold out there.
Look at his prizes all in a row:
Surely a hint of fame.
Now he's finished with, -- nothing to show:
Doesn't it seem a shame?
Look from the window! All you see
Was to be his one day:
Forest and furrow, lawn and lea,
And he goes and chucks it away.
Chucks it away to die in the dark:
Somebody saw him fall,
Part of him mud, part of him blood,
The rest of him -- not at all.
And yet I'll bet he was never afraid,
And he went as the best of 'em go,
For his hand was clenched on his broken blade,
And his face was turned to the foe.
And I called him a fool . . . oh how blind was I!
And the cup of my grief's abrim.
Will Glory o' England ever die
So long as we've lads like him?
So long as we've fond and fearless fools,
Who, spurning fortune and fame,
Turn out with the rallying cry of their schools,
Just bent on playing the game.
A fool! Ah no! He was more than wise.
His was the proudest part.
He died with the glory of faith in his eyes,
And the glory of love in his heart.
And though there's never a grave to tell,
Nor a cross to mark his fall,
Thank God! we know that he "batted well"
In the last great Game of all.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Lost Master
"And when I come to die," he said,
"Ye shall not lay me out in state,
Nor leave your laurels at my head,
Nor cause your men of speech orate;
No monument your gift shall be,
No column in the Hall of Fame;
But just this line ye grave for me:
`He played the game.'"
So when his glorious task was done,
It was not of his fame we thought;
It was not of his battles won,
But of the pride with which he fought;
But of his zest, his ringing laugh,
His trenchant scorn of praise or blame:
And so we graved his epitaph,
"He played the game."
And so we, too, in humbler ways
Went forth to fight the fight anew,
And heeding neither blame nor praise,
We held the course he set us true.
And we, too, find the fighting sweet;
And we, too, fight for fighting's sake;
And though we go down in defeat,
And though our stormy hearts may break,
We will not do our Master shame:
We'll play the game, please God,
We'll play the game.
poem by Robert William Service
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Be an umpire
Players watch the game they play.
The umpire watches the game.
The audience watches the game.
The staff watches the game.
Their emotions and reactions vary.
Being an umpire is the best option.
30.04.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mad Game
Three stemps
Bat 's
One ball...
Eleven fealding
Players...
Two batting
Players...
Thousands of
Visitors..
Watching god for
Mad game
Its cricket...! !
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Marriage Anyone?
The song says: "Love and Marriage"
Go together like horse and carriage
But, that is in the very beginning
When there is time and reason to sing
Soon the ties that bond begin to fray
And become weaker and fragile each day
What was adamant admiration,
Now becomes mutual toleration
Marriage now is like a game of tennis
A winner and loser being the premise
The players begin to keep endless score
Me wants less -- she always wants more!
Love is nothing and no use
As the players call deuce!
poem by Marshall Hahn
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A great tribute
A great tribute to cricket legend....
It was solid and impregnable wall
Given the signal and made a final call
World may remember his contribution
An honor to country and to institution as well
What a tiring game to retire
Thousands applaud and admire
Cricket is gentleman's game
Where people excel and earn the fame
"Rahul "is such a shining star
Ruled the scene for decades and waged a war
Made the game as holy temple
Worshipped till last saved all from any troubles
Bright record with memorable feat
We shall bow our head and greet
Such a star is never born again
The retirement is really a pain
We may miss his absence
The people around may remain tense
Yet game is game and one has to declare plan
Swim over the water and go peacefully with calm
* "Rahul Dravid "is cricketer from India
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Here is a game
Here is a game
And game is a game
When it is played
You and I
Are only players
Who win who loss
Difficult to declared.
Here in this play
No unity no diversity
Here in this play
There is also nothing
To differ and there is
Also no barrier
I am to drive and
You are the driver.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Whipping
Race is the name of the game
Along with my horse I enlisted my name
I whipped my horse giving him pain
I had a plan for both of us to win.
He did not know
So fast why he had to go!
Race is the name of the game
My Master enlisted my name
He whips me giving me pain
As if He has a plan to make me win.
What's if somebody gives another name of the game?
It will not change; the game will be the same
We are all the players of the game
What, when, how and why if they claim
If even one starts giving me and my Master a blame
Still we have to suffer and intake the pain
My Master knows better what game we have to win!
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Football - The most beautiful game
After stepping into the field
there is no way out
even before you start the game
you hear the fans shout
The players then sings their anthem
its football......
the most beautiful game.....
And when the whistle blows
the crowd starts their roar
in the 90 tensed minutes
the players got to score
Football is friendly only in name
because friendliness is not meant for football....
the most beautiful game....
So when the hard tackles go in
and injured fellow goes out
the crowd becomes furious
and starts to shout
Even after breaking one's leg
there seems to be no shame
because its football....
the most beautiful game....
Vitaï Lampada
There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night --
Ten to make and the match to win --
A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
An hour to play and the last man in.
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"
The sand of the desert is sodden red, --
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; --
The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England's far, and Honour a name,
But the voice of schoolboy rallies the ranks,
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"
This is the word that year by year
While in her place the School is set
Every one of her sons must hear,
And none that hears it dare forget.
This they all with a joyful mind
Bear through life like a torch in flame,
And falling fling to the host behind --
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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