Best Wickets Poems


The Lads

Chase the leather
Lads.  Keep the wickets
Lads. Love your mum 
Lads.  Be strong 
Lads.  Don’t cry 
Lads.  Be healthy 
Lads.

Obey your headmaster
Lads.  Listen to the bobby
Lads.  Listen to the government 
Lads.  Look down the sights
Lads.  Don’t reveal your position
Lads.

Be silent
Lads.  Die in anonymity
Lads.  Drag the dead bodies
Lads.  Dig your hole
Lads.  Grasp your hair 
Lads.  Eat the soil 
Lads.  Never come back 
Lads.
Categories: wickets, childhood, death, life, mum,
Form: Free verse

Ms Dhoni

DHONI
Here is our Indian Hero,MS Dhoni,
an ideal role model to many.
Whenever Dhoni is batting at the crease,
viewers say,"Do not disturb me please"!
He regards Seven as his lucky number,
and he is as cool as a cucumber.
Everytime he comes onto the field,he prays to the Sun,
and later returns to the pavilion with an emphatic win.
He looks calm and composed in any kind of situation,
and turns the team into a mood of celebration.
He is a real hard-hitter of the cricket ball,
and the target set by the opposition seems to be small.
He is very sharp behind the stumps,
and extremely quick between the wickets.
He is a perfect modern day game changer,
and the opposition can sense that they are in danger!
He absolutely loves executing "The Helicopter Shot",
and no other player can match his talent,in short.
He tries to bring the best out of every player,
and always looks at things in a positive manner.
He has been listed among the top 100 by "The Times",
and hope he achieves many more in his future games.
Categories: wickets, dedication, people, sports,
Form: Personification

Premium Member Luneta

On this landmark an image stands...
  statue of a man.
Man of honor and talent,
  admiration of any man.
Born with great love for country
Died with one heart of chivalry.

Studied in different schools,
  aced all subjects in drools.
A man gifted with excellence.
Shared great works in pickets,
Cured many patients without wickets.

A man of great stature,
No man may be able to equalize.
A man of great sorrow,
Sacrificed himself for tomorrow.
Fellowmen freed to visualize.

So much more can be said
About a man of enviable skills
Young and old have all laid
Heroism of a small man...
Bigger, higher than hills.
Categories: wickets, hero, memorial, memory,
Form: Idyll (Idyl)

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Unquotable Quotes - Iii

     Unquotable quotes -  III

When in Rome, do as the Roman Nero.
The rain in Spain falls mainly on the vain and the 
         insane.
A grenade a day keeps the refugee away.
Cut your coat according to your girth.
The kettle calling the pot back.
Like father, like son; like mother, like neither.
Singing in the rain can get you pain in Spain.
Singing in the rain in Paris can get you chicks who do 
             the twist with fairies.
A sound heart in a sick body is like a tart groggy with 
             toddy.
The sun also rises best in the West.
Who said beggars are not choosers: they can choose the  
             place and moment they beg.
A white tiger abhors orange.
A policeman’s girl always wears handcuffs behind her 
            back.
A lawyer who licks the back of hands always gets paid 
           first.
A judge who yells at you tends to reduce the sentence to 
           a phrase.
Building castles in the air with sand is cheaper by far.
A marathon runner remembers the thighs but not the 
            laps.
At the end of the day is when you make your greatest 
           mistake – you go to sleep.
Churn milk to make curd: churn speech to make turd.
Pounding rice as a marriage rite brings no surprise on 
            the wedding night.
One swallow doesn’t make a drunkard out of a 
           teetotaller, but it sure signals a dry summer.

                   Cricketing jargon

The late-cut is the shave you missed out.
The off-cut is the cover drive turned phut.
The leg-pull is the batsman’s bras de fer to the leg 
        spinner.
The long-stop is the twelth man on the field.
The straight drive pierces the umpire’s reverie.
The full-toss is the fast bowler’s slipped disc.
The ton-up comes after the spin bowlers give up.
The innings defeat is the army beating the retreat.
Test matches end up in ditches for pitches.
A bumper is an un-coded message from the bowler to the 
         batsman.
A bumper is an overt warning to the inveterate blocker.
Tail-enders get to face the best batsmen all-rounders.
Umpires inspect pitches at the start of a match for coins
	dropped by lawn-mowers.
An over-throw is a fielded ball flung by an outfielder at 
     the umpires and which misses the wickets by miles.

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wickets, games, humor, humorous, imagery,
Form: Epigram

Premium Member Unquotable Quotes - Vi

Unquotable quotes – VI

(Note : A good many of the « epigrams » in this sequence of quotes are a take off on other well-known short poems, proverbs, sayings or expressions faites, etc . The rest are my own epigrams.)

All the world’s a stooge.
Paint the town red with blood.
Swing low, Sweet chariot ! Coming to carry me on throne !
Turn the other back for a slap on the back.
Can you turn your nose up while sitting on your high horse ?
Finders keepers, Minders weepers !
Black holes also suck white souls.
A bun in the womb is worth ten in the oven.
Cleanliness is next to Godzillaness.
Garbage cans are not rubbish bins.
What goes up must bring Heaven down.
We are all stinkers under the arms.
We are all sewers under bums.
We are all lovers under mums.
We are all beggars under alms.
We are all killers under arms.
We are all believers under psalms.
We are all thinkers under norms.
We are all schemers under qualms.
We are all bribers under palms.
We are all runners under bombs.
We are all rotters under worms.
We are all liars under gums.
We are all swimmers under foams.
We are soldiers under uniforms.
We are all writers under thumbs.
One need hardly fear the extinction of Life on earth through environmental or climatic catastrophe : inter-religious contention will get the job done well before-hand.

		Cricketing jargon

« Style mahu kala tida-apa ! » (Doesn’t matter if you’re given out so long as you managed to play the right stroke !)
This « tongue-in-cheek remark » in Malay pidgin is often used in Malaysia-Singapore to describe those batsmen who surrender their wickets in style, i.e., batsmen who are sticklers to the art of playing textbook strokes irrespective of whether the ball is engaged by the bat or not.


© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wickets, environment, fun, humor, humorous,
Form: Epigram

Premium Member Unquotable Quotes: More Cricketing Jargon - Iv

Unquotable quotes (More Cricketing Jargon) – IV

A « wide » is a ball aimed by the bowler at some absent-  
   minded fielder.
The « silly-point » is the fielding position so close to the 
   batsman that the captain forces his rival to occupy at 
   the risk of receiving balls on the head, solar plexus 
   and balls hit at over 300 m.p.h.
An « inswinger » is a bowled ball which changes course 
   in mid-air and gets round the batsman to nick the 
   bails.
An « outswinger » is a bowled ball which the batsman 
   thought he connected for a six but which merely 
   nicked his bat to reach the safe first-slip’s hands.
A « run-out » is given when batsmen running between 
   wickets wish to get back to the pavillion in a hurry.
To get « one’s eyes in » is to see cricket balls the size of 
   foot-balls.
A « partnership » in batting occurs when one batsman 
   does all the stroke-playing while the other hurls abuse 
   and advise on him.
The « night-watchmen » are batsmen sent in with 
   blankets to keep the pitch warm at the end of the day.
The « opening batsmen » always take their own sweet 
   time between the pavillion until their crease rituals.
The « one down » is the batsman who makes the ground 
   look like an empty billiard table.
The « top scorer » is not the cousin of the official scorer.
« Clean bowled » happens when the batsman is looking 
   at a blonde in the pavillion.
« Hit wicket » usually occurs when tall batsmen choose 
   long-handle bats for their centuries.
« Leather-hunt » takes place when one ball takes to 
   visiting all corners of the field in quick succession.
A century or two could very well take just half-a-day 
   these days.
The « hat-trick » always occurs when the umpire is 
   dozing after lunch.
« Good shot » means no one has dared put a hand out to 
   stop the ball.
« Medium-paced bowlers » are fast bowlers who have 
   been hit once too often out of the ground.
The « leg pull » always catches the leg and mid-field 
   talking to one another.
The last batsman always takes a wild swing at the first 
   ball in the hope that it would land on the captain’s 
   head.


© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wickets, hilarious, humor, humorous, passion,
Form: Epigram


The Joys of Spring


Oh do you dream of England,
when Spring is in the air?
The hum of bees on gentle breeze
is all that you will hear,
except for farmers, turning hay,
in meadows far and near;
their spotted, knotted handkerchiefs
tied over thinning hair.

With grass that's green, this rural scene,
broad skies, a blue veneer
and little children on a swing,
their laughter ringing clear.
Perhaps some croquet on a lawn,
or gentle, grazing deer.
Such lazy, hazy, daisey days 
and tranquil atmosphere.


Alas!  I live in England,
when Spring is in the air.
High winds will lash our Garden Fete
and blow down all the gear;
with poor bedraggled villagers,
from under brollies peer,
to find the Verger's spiked the Cup
with Continental beer!

The rain will cancel Parent's' Day
just like it did last year
and cricketers, in wellie boots,
prod wickets in despair.
For all our hopes and dreams, hard work,
I shed this bitter tear.
There has to be a finer place 
and VERY far from here!

~





'SPRING' Contest for Carol Brown
Categories: wickets, seasons, spring, spring,
Form: Verse

Sachin Tendulkar - a Poetic Tribute

24 years between 22 yards,
Records being made like palace of cards,
He is one who breathes cricket,
A player,whom no opponent can hate.
He plays cricket only,thinks everyone...
But playing with nos. Is his real fun..
His achievements are his identity,
He's a true legend in reality.

663 Matches,34357 runs,100 tons,154 fifties,200 wickets are enough to call him sir,
He's no other than SACHIN TENDULKAR..

Records are so,that can be written an encyclopedia,
Most times news,was he for media.
Head is at seventh sky,still feet at ground,
Kept every responsibility brilliantly,it is found.
Our Indian soil was blessed on 24 april 1973, when he born.
That day was for Indian cricket, a new dawn.
Family supportive,start training at 11,
His focus being perfect,that's why he has today heaven..

On 15 nov 1989, he came whirling his bat,
At 16,before pakistan,he was like before lion,a rat.
May start was bad,but determination was atmost,
Passing all hurdles,he reached the coast.
Then fours and six and runs and records.
Oh my goodness! Everyone has to laud..
Time was departing,so were players,
But immotile as hill,he was there,
WHat he cannot do was unanswerable,
His story in future become fable.
Those watching him play at childhood,share field with him,
But wrinkles in his performance was never seen..
Equalling Billgates' income he won hearts.
He was the whole piece,but then also considered himself a part..
Father's wish was to be a good human,
Now every father want such son.
Every thing achieved,giving father tribute asked-" Have i made it large?"
May height so small but deed so enlarge..

But every good thing comes to an end,
And so does when our legend descends.
With brim on head,tricolour in hand.
Touches the pitch,saying I did my job, my sand...
Make everyone happy when he bats,
Now tears in every eyes, but everyone pats..

The god of cricket,jesrsy no. 10......
This passion,determination,stamina,spirit & much more we'll see when???
In india,"Its Impossible" is replaced by "Its sachin"
Your Father must be proudly saying-"my son,u win"

The ladder he climbed,no one can reached,
Bye-Bye Sachin,How to be perfect,to us, You only teach!!!!!
Categories: wickets, age, angel, courage, dedication,
Form: Ode

Premium Member Limerick: Once a Privy Counsellor At Lord's

Limerick : Once a Privy Counsellor at Lord’s

Once a Privy Counsellor at Lord’s*
Watched a bowler* throw balls like gourds
Convened judicial com.*
Summoned bowler to come  
And sentenced him to eat bitter gourds.

Lord’s : The Mecca of cricket grounds in London
                where the Marylebone Cricket Club has 
	    its seat.
bowler : The player who lances the ball at the
	     batsman ; yet during the act the elbow 
	     must not be bent – at the risk of being 
	     called by the Umpire a « no ball « , that is,
	     even if the ball hits the wickets and the 
	     bails are dislodged, the batsman is not
	     given « out.».
*Judicial Com(mittee) of the Privy Council, the highest
	Court of Appeal in England (and the former 
British territories) until the Supreme 
	Court was set up in 2010 to hear some appeals.  
The Privy Counsellor/Councillor
	is a Member of the House of Lords and a judge.	

©  T. Wignesan – Paris,  2013
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wickets, humorous,
Form: Limerick

Tribute To Sachin Tendulkar

24 years between 22 yards, 
Records being made like palace of cards, 
He is one who breathes cricket, 
A player, whom no opponent can hate.
He plays cricket only, thinks everyone...
But playing with nos. Is his real fun..
His achievements are his identity, 
He's a true legend in reality.

663 Matches,34357 runs,100 tons,154 fifties,200 wickets are enough to call him sir, 
He's no other than SACHIN TENDULKAR..

Records are so, that can be written an encyclopedia, 
Most times news, was he for media.
Head is at seventh sky, still feet at ground, 
Kept every responsibility brilliantly, it is found.
Our Indian soil was blessed on 24 april 1973, when he born.
That day was for Indian cricket, a new dawn.
Family supportive, start training at 11, 
His focus being perfect, that's why he has today heaven..

On 15 nov 1989, he came whirling his bat, 
At 16, before pakistan, he was like before lion, a rat.
May start was bad, but determination was atmost, 
Passing all hurdles, he reached the coast.
Then fours and six and runs and records.
Oh my goodness! Everyone has to laud..
Time was departing, so were players, 
But immotile as hill, he was there, 
What he cannot do was unanswerable, 
His story in future become fable.
Those watching him play at childhood, share field with him, 
But wrinkles in his performance was never seen..
Equalling Billgates' income he won hearts.
He was the whole piece, but then also considered himself a part..
Father's wish was to be a good human, 
Now every father want such son.
Every thing achieved, giving father tribute asked-' Have i made it large? '
May height so small but deed so enlarge..

But every good thing comes to an end, 
And so does when our legend descends.
With brim on head, tricolour in hand.
Touches the pitch, saying I did my job, my sand...
Make everyone happy when he bats, 
Now tears in every eyes, but everyone pats..

The god of cricket, jesrsy no.10......
This passion, determination, stamina, spirit & much more we'll see when? ? ? 
In India, 'Its Impossible' is replaced by 'Its sachin'
Your Father must be proudly saying-'my son, u win'

The ladder he climbed, no one can reached, 
Bye-Bye Sachin, How to be perfect, to us, You only teach! ! ! ! !
Categories: wickets, celebrity, sports,
Form: Light Verse

Spatterdock Croquet

When Nature frees the lotus
   (This year's debut emergence)
      From their sleeping seeds,
   When they begin to cress the surface,

I shall stand with broadened smile,
   My heart's joy augment threefold;
      And when the lillies burst
   In galvanic evening's gold,

If the expansion of elation
   Don't mean I'm likely doomed
      To laugh so hard confined
   In the vaulted night perfumed

And if I don't spit out my life
   When the lillies shoot their seeds
      And no tremors shall have seized my heart
   Nor Death, my ticket, heeds:

When Cold caresses the membranes,
   Bringing the lillies to rot and break,
      Bowing down before the wind,
  Their thirst, face down, to slake,

They later will be frozen 
   On the very coldest day,
      Bent into the wickets
   Of Spatterdock Croquet.
Categories: wickets, flower, nature,
Form:

Summer

I have no doubt that 
 soon it will be summer.
The daffodils have taken flight,
 fire no more warms the night.
The rain has gone,
 no need to run for cover.

Not long now ‘til summer,
 blossoms on apple trees,
monarch butterflies and bumble bees,
 garden buds a kaleidoscope in flower
with fruit upon vine and bower.

No need for winter clothes,
 sore throats, chills, stuffy nose.
Children laugh, their face aglow,
(they’re in the know)
soon it will be summer.

I have a friend, we love cricket,
 he bowls - I take wickets!
One ball left in the over,
 a sweet drive through extra cover...
that’s when you know it’s summer.

We poke fun at each other,
 who’s the best, he’s like a brother.
I never move my feet -
“your arm’s always bent, Skeet,”
  but I think we can both agree 
I ain’t Lara and you ain’t Hadlee.

 
       Written: circa 1995

                 ———

*Wicket refers to the dismissal 
  of a batsman. 
*An over is made up of six balls
  bowled by the bowler.
*A drive is a cricket shot.
*Extra cover is a fielding position.
*Skeet is my friend and opponent.
  A legend in his own mind.  
*Lara and Hadlee are famous
  players from the past.
Categories: wickets, change, summer,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Leopards Loose in the Domain

Out of a neon jungle the big cats prowl
  the wind in the willows unrecovered,
for when the cats and wind begin to howl
  I am stoned and the boys truly mothered!
So I rip in and bowl an inswinger 
  and rap ‘em on the pads…”howzat?” I shout,
pivoting to see a pointing finger,
  but the bastard umpire says “Not Out!”.
Behold the shot, the call of “no, yes, no”…
  a sledge and slog on the concrete wickets
and puffs of stupefying herb billow
  the post-match bar in the oak tree pickets.
For a play and a prey the big cats reign
when the Leopards are loose in The Domain.


          Written: November 1992

    Pic above is of Auckland Domain.

*The Leopards are a cricket team.
*Cricket bats are made from willow trees.
*Mothered is slang for extremely drunk.
*Inswinger is a type of bowling delivery.
*If a bowler appeals to an umpire for a
  dismissal and he agrees the batsman is 
  out he points and raises his finger.
*Sledge is a cutting insulting remark.
Categories: wickets, friend, games, sports,
Form: Sonnet

A Reprise of Summer

Green fields of grass and black boys in white
Sir Lancelot and round table and frolic sights
The children of slaves so bedecked as knights
Spectators shadeless sizzling in fusion of light
O come let us play upon the green, cricket lads
O take the ball at its seam, break wickets lads.

Go have your summer of sweet lemonade, spill
Your laughter like rivers rinsing fresh the glade
Hearts will be broken but new bonds will be made
I will be where the subtle game of cricket's played
O come let us play upon the green, cricket lads
O take the ball at its seam, break wickets lads.

Give me a ball like a globe flaming red, I'll face
My oppressor with his wooden lance, cloth armour
Because of magic he does not perceive the danger
Steedless let me charge for the valour of my race 
O come let us play upon the green, cricket lads
O take the ball at its seam, break wickets lads

Bowling and jousting, all the same to me, the game
Is what I love to play, this sportsman debonair
The feelings padded down by civility of the stare
Summer's sun against me too, but I'm above shame
O come let us play upon the green, cricket lads
O take the ball at its seam, break wickets lads

When the game is done we will meet under a tree
Cajoles one another prowess, and feast on the fete
Bring the bammy, the fish, breadfruit, rundung sweet
We are friends again and children of the democracy
O come let us play upon the green, cricket lads
O take the ball at its seam, break wickets lads.
Categories: wickets, sports, me, children, me,
Form: Ballad

Skipping Stones

Round and smooth, cool in your palm,
you lean back and let them soar,
cutting cleanly down to walk on water.
They skip, shining wickets
glancing in the silver light slipping low.
You turn,
letting fly a stream of words,
impulsive and precipitous,
that drop into my heart one stone.

Copyright, November 10, 2017
Categories: wickets, betrayal, heartbreak, relationship,
Form: Free verse
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