"wickets" poems
Cricket is the only game which lures me so much;
And then engrosses me so much.
That craze would never drive out of me…
My inspiration was ‘Yuvraj Singh’,
Only then I arose to identify that King.
Once Yuvi’s record of six sixes in six *****
The firmament was incredible for certain minutes:
That was the first time I witnessed cricket,
And India’s triumph provided me a mind-blowing buzz to watch cricket,
Nevertheless continuing with ***** and wickets.
I would turn crazy when Indian cricketers approach the ground,
And that would certainly not halt lest they are made proud.
This T20 shadowed by IPL,
Made me to by stand that awe-inspiring sport.
Chennai Super Kings-my favorite,
Followed by Royal Challenges Bangalore …
And lots more hilarious teams and cricketers.
When Chris Gayle approaches…
Tsunami warning must be lifted and “Gayle” (gale) warning must be given!
That’s how cricket relocates…
Most matches concluding in the closing over
And some others in the finishing ball…
The most exhilarating sport
Read more →and the format-
IPL is all fun for me…
With cheer leaders and the draped studio;
With cameras and videos
And at last the much awaited IPL trophy-
Cricket is all that it needs!!!
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
As one who's born in England
There is something I don't know
Exactly what is "cricket" ?
Please tell me so I'll go
Both teams dress in white
The bowler doesn't bowl
He doesn't bend his arm to throw
I don't understand the goal
The ball goes out it scores six runs
But it must go in the air
The ball rolls out it scores four more
Is this really fair?
The games can last for days and days
But what confuses me
Is that every game at four o'clock
The players stop for tea
A game is called a test
But is every test a game
some may last for just one day
The length is not the same
There's a throw they call a googly
I know what that means
I got hit there playing hockey
It ***** your breath so you can't scream
There's wickets and there's bails
mid slips, and those silly stumps
I'm sure that if it confuses me
What does it do to umps?
The biggest question that I have
Besides, what's a sticky wicket?
Is of all the players on the field
Which one of them's the cricket?
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
WIMBLEDON COMMON
Wimbledon common
Was always the place to go,
Catching the train from Streatham
The family all aglow,
Sandwiches in a paper bag
Thermos in a sack,
Plastic sandels and tennis racket
Not forgetting the cricket bat.
Everyone was skippy
The sun high in the sky,
Dad had his umbrella
But the rain was shy,
Jumping from the platform
Down a row of steps,
Brother took a tumble
And that was that.
Plasters in a pocket
All was mended soon,
Finally recovered
Felt over the moon,
Reached the grassy stretches
Whoops mind the dogs,
Come away from the lovers
They're out for a jog.
Find a shiny tree trunk
Horizontal on the ground,
Four happy people
Tuck in to raspberry jam,
Now for the thermos
Plastic cups ahead,
Here come the wasps
To eat our jam and bread.
Later penguin biscuits
And a trip behind the bin,
Dad puts out the wickets
Let's see who wins,
After a quiet session
Brother looses his cool,
Slings the bat skyward
You should see it go,
Mother looked upwards
Covering her head,
Just managed to miss it
Landing on the hedge.
I went off walking
To gather pretty flowers,
Dad hid under the paper
We had a quiet hour,
Clouds gathering slowly
The sun going down,
What a lovely day in the country
We're now homeward bound.
In memory and gratitude to my lovely mum and dad
Grace and Eric Ayton- Robinson who always did their best.
Love Mary **
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 10:47 AM UTC
Christmas at the inlaws, posed great challenges because
Was a chance at first impressions I could make
The family quite a bunch, secret Santa, formal lunch
All would test, but there was something more at stake
Further to their traditions, the Australian institution
Back yard cricket, the game in which I must partake
Both nervous and excited, see I love it unrequited
For impressions twas the icing on the cake
I considered myself skilled, both flamboyant and strong willed
And the game very seriously I would take
The brother and the dad, the biggest threats I saw I had
To dominate for the glory I would slake
With lunch dusted and done, we went out into the sun
Inspect the pitch, had it a fresh mow and a rake
A slope to orchard side, sticks as wickets, bail astride
Chose to bowl, the game was on make no mistake
Much to my surprise, dad was good, I did surmise
I bowled well, but his batting didn't break
He retired steeled, and I went out into the field
For his respect, and his daughter's, I'd not flake
When my turn came to bat, the brother bowled one flat
Out at my toes, applying heat, see if I'd quake
But I settled into play, and hit them all around the way
Was time to showcase and leave them in my wake
I retired not out too, and dad to bat again was due
Keen to bowl at him despite the muscle ache
At the last I took his stump, and the crowd well they did jump
Saw my determination was one that wouldn't shake
The game renewed my bond, for his daughter and beyond
To join this man, and his family was the sake
Mum called time for tea, and we left the field with glee
We were one now, and it was time for cake.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 12:00 AM UTC
eight wickets
eight wickets
he did so well score
on the pitch at Bangalore
he spun the ball
he spun the ball
in the first session of play
over after over toiling away
his efforts were fab
his efforts were fab
bamboozling the batsmen
with a seaming flight of hem
not since Warne
not since Warne
had such a display been seen
on the oval's twenty two yard sheen
a magic spell
a magic spell
Lyon's spinning technique
was truly magnifique
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 11:15 PM UTC
Go thunder go thunder go thunder go
We sent the heat packing
It looked like we were going to lose it
But then we dismissed the heat
And sent them packing
We are the might of Sydney thunder
Into the grand final yeah
We are the might of Sydney thunder
Kicking *** is what we do
We nearly ****** lost it
But somehow wickets started falling
We are the night of Sydney thunder
Go the mighty thunder
Put out Brisbane’s heat
Yes we party yes we are great
We did it well at north Sydney oval tonight
The heat don’t know what hit them
It was all the thunders fault
The might of Sydney thunder
Sydney thunder Sydney thunder
Bring on the stars
Go thunder go
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 7:00 AM UTC
Conversation watching cricket flows
Between corporate strangers who
Work together but know nothing of
The others’ lives outside the office
Where work-life balance is a myth
The bowlers bowl and the batsmen bat.
Not much happens between innings
On the field, but the action is in the
Stands, as wickets fall, the barriers
Between spectators vanish, and new
Understandings develop, all because
The bowlers bowl and the batsmen bat.
Wine that universal lubricant, moves
From polite engagement to introspective
Intent to solve all our corporate problems
The laser-like focus as new friends grow
Closer than that 22 yards seem as the
The bowlers bowl and the batsmen bat.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 5:42 AM UTC
in the annals of cricket
those of greatness get a mention
for what they've achieved on the wicket
these men stand head and shoulder
above the rest
their contribution
to the game
has
been written as the best
three men have inspired
younger players
in their homelands
they've accomplished
much on wickets
throughout the many cricket playing
lands
Steven Waugh(Australian Captain)
the master strategist
who had a captain's mind
replete with brilliant tactics
when he took to the pitch
the opposition teams
would quiver in their
collective boots
field placement
over deliveries
the weather conditions
all of these factors
actuated in his mind
so he could
bring an innings
of a notable kind
Sachin Tendulkar (Indian Batsman)
the king of the blade
who none can equal
in test matches
his cuts and cover drives
were worthy of an epic prequel
his style with the bat
twas magic to see
he had a prowess
of majesty
Vivian Richard (West Indies All Rounder)
he was never phased
he held his nerve
with the bat or the ball
a tradesman
who fielded what ever came at him
and in his relaxed style
chewed on a piece of gum
and demolish
the bails
with a Caribbean hum
cricket's hall of fame
that 22 yard pitch
where three greatest of the game
performances
did of fans
ever bewitch
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
There's a lot of *****
in a cricket match,
don't fancy catching them.
There's a lot of bats and
batsmen,
and batsmen bat the *****
An umpire calls the shots but
he don't bowl the ***** and
a wicket keeper keeps no wickets
but he looks after bails
which are not ***** but
if the bails fall
the batsmen do too,
are you
following this?
A no ball is still a ball
and no ***** are still *****
which is all *****
if you ask me.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
The thickets of time
come rain or shine,
scratch the best of years,
old man looking on
do you still count the cricket scores
in your sleep ?
with jumpers for wickets,
and blackberries down country lanes.
Navel looking down
the vastness of your now waist line,
a mark of your captaincy
receipts of your labour
dangling like a butchers overall.
In your limelight your broadened smile
releases a relinquished accent
that you could never quite forgive.
.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 3:14 PM UTC
Leicestershire's Alan Mullally
Loved getting a 5 wicket tally
Landing the seam
On wickets of green
Would drive the opponents do-lally.
He was tall and he was lean
But he was never really mean
He kept it tight
Thru day and night
The best that Leicestershire's seen
One day he scored twenty-four
Pakistan were on the floor
He hit it miles
Akram had piles
That just might settle the score.
In the world he reached number two
It was a lovely thing to do
He bowled so straight
He moved it late
A great seamer through and through.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 10:30 PM UTC
Recruitment is a difficult job
Surely, everyone knows that
It is like chasing a target of 350 in 50 overs
However, when you are hiring Investment Bankers
The target remains the same
But the pitch, which is a belter as of now
Suddenly acquires a greenish hue
And the ball starts swinging and seaming
One mistake, and you are back to the pavilion
Meanwhile, the asking rate keeps climbing
Thus, the pressure keeps building
Yes, that's how tricky Investment Bankers are
At least as far as India is concerned
However, European Investment Bankers are a different ballgame altogether
The target continues to be the same
As does the nature of the pitch
However, now you have to chase the target in 40 overs!!
Well, you decide to steel yourself
To bat out of your skins
And do manage to hit a few ***** out of the park
However, your joy is short-lived
As you go for one boundary too many
Only to get caught at deep square leg
More and more batsmen follow
And try their level best
To keep the required run rate under control
But the wickets keep tumbling
Meanwhile, your last hope, Hardik Pandya, arrives at the crease
And takes the game by the scruff of the neck
While at the other end, Virat Kohli stands strong
And the pair manage to build a partnership of 100
However, the European I-Bankers end up having the last laugh
As Virat gets run out
While going for a quick single
And Hardik goes for a maximum
Only to get caught
Just inside the boundary line
By now, you know, as do the European I-Bankers
That the game is well and truly up
Unless a miracle happens
Well, all you can say
Is "Better Luck next time"
Also, welcome to the world of hiring European Investment Bankers
Aug 1, 2023
Aug 1, 2023 at 2:43 AM UTC
He held my gaze that little Urchin
In the middle of the crowded road
He held my gaze with his impish smile
For as long as his attention would hold
A playful smile was on his lips
Though his clothes lay in tatters
The little Urchin was full of life
Rich in what it matters
He flitted towards the end of the street
Where the slums clustered in thickets
I heard the sound of something crashing
And noticed fallen wickets
Many an imps frolicked by
In the guise of deprivation
Yet all that I could see
Survival beyond starvation
But then he flitted again in hurry
As the noon hour chimed
He went to the edge of the road
And over a wall he climbed
Reaching for left overs
He battled with stray dogs
His friends joined in battle cries
Pelted them with rocks
He held my gaze with the life
That twinkled in his eyes
But before I could say goodbye
I knew his eyes had lied
©Anavah 2019
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 6:54 AM UTC
with my fairy tales exhausted. i had my wits about me.
like huffing glue on real problems.
the sticky-wickets and whatnot.... that gather through me.
like a trojan-horsehair medallion -
at the end of a rope. Or a ray
of " No ".
A Spot of Bother that May Be Scotch -
Or Maybe Not... but the rot boggles.
the way decay and Seasons agree on everything.
how you can't stop writing letters
to imaginary patrons
and lost mice.
' awake ' is a maze
in a deeper sleep
and i wonder...
then i wonder
some more.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 12:18 AM UTC