Long Wickets Poems
Long Wickets Poems. Below are the most popular long Wickets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wickets poems by poem length and keyword.
I think I know something in these fraught times
Several arguments later and debates
Accusations that I don’t at all chime
They have the gall to charge me with their hate
And now I know something which is not grime
Bro, I looked high and low for the answers
But they concealed themselves behind thickets
The knowledge I needed was a rogue star
And hell-hound bowlers knocked out my wickets
I then thought I would not get very far
I think I now know something through the fogs
Something that can now be nicely cogent
Something I won’t throw to the red fire logs
I’ve gotten it and my long search is spent
I know this thing: I’ve clean gone to the dogs
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.
When will Baz..Ben & their men ken..learn
Despite or to spite the "has beens" concern
Trouble to rubble only listen to their bubble
That Bazball trite shi*e they're always right
Be true to thine self.. the cover drive shelf
Lack that knack & gift to swiftly shift back
On pacy racy turfs where the conker surfs
Play it late and don't hit it on the up mate
Wafts of wishing fishing on the 5th stump
Down in the dump chump will then flump
Snag trumped by the ball that did rag jump
Nicked to slip or off the glove it did thump
Rascals debacles and wickets castled slump
Head more pizzazz..razzmattazz did gazump
Smoother purer surer bravura groover jazz
Baz did kowtow to an Aussie..now take a bow
OZ's wizard of the wood blizzard was that good
Y'all we should clearly really call it "TRAV or is that CHAV BALL !
Mystery confounds at the G surrounds the pitch
Crumbled wickets tumbled so quick got a stitch
Far too spicy the unfair square did jar & bewitch
Russian roulette regret net humbled willow flitch
Was cricket’s largest grounds really the only hitch
Too dicey to try defence too pricey.. that's their pitch
Foolish pretence was hatched by players who snitch
Curator of this thatched turf was the ghoulish glitch
Moderator of surf the scorched earth torched must ditch
Batters so dismal no in abysmal nick will still bit*h
Madhatters trick they must scratch that ersatz itch
Say only way they will play gotta just flick the switch
Stats are for prats.. the caveat everyone bats kitsch
So to just then pick on the pitch.. well it is a bit rich!
Everything that I have read have observed heard said has been about the bowlers instead
Critics and pundits quick to quip that the favoured fillip of Test cricket's taking all 20 wickets
But I reckon as this crackerjack Ashes finally beckons the middle order's the butter & bread
Can the Yorkshire pair Boycott's flair heirs utter with lacy grace and no airs be the comperes
Can't stutter Joe & Harry nations expectations carry as each ace parry harry fill OZ with dread
Underhand sand gate riff of great Smith having a tiff hallowed or biff.. fallowed Archer arrowed
Let's not forget the raring hubris of madhatter Travis Head daring to go where angels fear to tread
Glaring pelter filter out of kilter as we swelter in this flaring helter skelter belter of an Ashes smelter
Will we be an abroad marauder.. a run hoarder.. adored history recorder who gets the street cred
Experts applaud flatters bowlers as what matters dreams shatters in tatters without the batters dead
Repeat & rinsed I'm convinced it's all about the riddle of elite red ball middle order princes
Fab four encore who does score more on this tour..Rooty...Piggy.. Brooky or Taches win Ashes Head
Where do you begin with Ravichandran Ashwin...intellectual impresario
Red ball romeo... conceptual maestro..the Kingpin of spin..leather lothario
Perpetual taunting...teasing..bubbling cerebral cauldron formenting..haunting
Troubling.. flaunting...tormenting..vaunting..fermenting..pleasing
Luminosity...but another one of the band of badger brothers
Reeks of unique chic tweak at its peak
Bare faced cheek of genius geek cavorting
Discerning pastor preaching while yearning for learning
More about turning…..curiosity pique...sleek sporting freak
Mythical master of disaster..have many if any been reaching 500 wickets faster
Viral spirals about this sage despite his age still taking centre stage
Batters like budgies trapped in a gilded cage
As though he had planned to grandstand the Ravinchand bandstand brand...stealing the back page
Revolution masquerading as evolution...cogitating...searching for a solution
Ruminating..problems to fix with his swag bag of tricks..spinning absolution
Precision physician with constant revision...each edition
A new rendition.. high jinks with winks.. and nods to tradition
Wondering...that furrowed brow..pondering how
Career of seams caressed with finger finesse ... architect..engineer without peer…
Can't debunk the magic funk…just respect from a Test tragic monk
Scientist enthrall..sorcerer gall...still one of us...the best of us all.
So hold your head high Ravichandran..still don't know why you were so often the fall guy
Fans vicarious view..our meme..you part of our team...daring to dream..your art of derring do
Iconic booty of noble probes…lush lullabies...strobes lapping global lobes
Sagacious..loquacious oratory...the tonic...fruity frolic
Fresh from laboratory duty..bodacious bucolic beauty
Even naysayers can't deny they relish that conjuring charm from your cherished right arm.
Let's zoom to the elephant in the room...is Ashwin the don of Indian spin
With the skill and will to top the bill and still pip Anil?
Kumble also a defiant giant on whom they were so reliant
Hot to trot just not as savvy as Ravi
The Don's got the lot..takes number one spot
Wealth of stealth...doyen among men..but never ever about himself
He loves cricket just for the cricket itself..zen then..
Not just WTC..
KG has to be..the OG
Saffa Jaffa gaffer….sole goal
Batters harries
Carries..never parries
Weight and expectation
Fate & soul
Of a whole nation
South African speedster larder
Is choc a block
Marco..new narco tyro
Already a believer
The length & strength
Octopus tentacles
Mr Tickle tendrils
Hefty lefty lever
But their rock..Dr Spock
Shepherd of the flock
Heir and leader of their
Racy pacy flair armada
No one tries harder
While looking so smooth
Ultimate slick quick pick
KG Rabada
Scolding batters..stagger..folding..
In tatters..crickey in the groove
Flatters…moves like Mikey Holding
Forget the coke farce
All swagger with the ball
Didn’t choke..Kagiso in full flow
Dagger and cloak bloke..VIP Pass
Follows champagne Steyn
Morkel reign and the
Vernon sermon..Philander propaganda
Trier…Makhaya fire campaign
Pollock bucolic frolic
Vibes of Donald diatribes
Finally even the scribes subscribes
Imbibes this latest great
Pips the rest
Fastest to get 300 hundred wickets
So hot to trot…beats the elite lot
Oh and also got the best ever..Test strike rate
But a little glummer..the bummer
No home tests this summer
Just such a shame..some disdain
Dumber mandarin sins as they kowtow to the cash cow
Meaning Kagiso will fail…no way will play enough games
To end the fat stat tale
Reign of Dale Steyn
Oh and a lovely final aside
Not only did they lose the race
Aussie doom and gloom
But the face of pace..Rabada the ace
Became only the second name not from mighty blighty
To grace the hall of fame hordes on the
Home dressing room boards at Lords
If batters do always stumble we will curse
If chances fumble don’t tease be adverse
Crumble if new ways to play won't traverse
If wickets tumble please don’t be so averse
Converse chaps humble perhaps rehearse
Bumble & us mumble alright grumble ..terse
Coerce if in a jumble must be more diverse
Perverse rumble in hollow Bazball universe
Reverse don't have to follow chapter & verse
Pom aliens can pilfer from the Australians laden purse
Bashes heirs to their nations flair reputations do nurse
Or flashes of crashes in another Ashes clashes hearse
Robbed by the hobnobbed Baz Ben & Bobbed curse
Have bowlers become spicier?
Hitches in batting riches
Cut sl**s shut in a rut
Pitches become dicier?
Chestnut witches strut
Gluts of stitches
And seams dreams
Humdrum Timber
Tantrum doldrums
Back in the hut
What we did see at the WTC
Wood from the tree
No pretence…don’t do defence
Weary..slain in vain again
Don’t be wary..leery of
Scary lairy leather fairies
Won’t refrain..don’t restrain
Might as well go insane
In that Baz Ball vein
Won’t sit on the fence
Face facts..cracks
No axe to the max
No one really scored
Adored stroke smorgasbord horde
Flawed fraud joke ignored
Afraid slayed blade misery
Very merry cherry glee
Ripsnorter slaughter yippee
Choker jokers..the sly Aussies..rib pokers..
Did sledge.. snide..tried to deride and get the edge
Was a helluva a ride
Will always remember the mystery
Markram and Temba’s pride..stopped the slide
Wouldn't be denied..victory and
History finally for the Saffa side..
But most batters rumbled
Humbled as records crumbled
Even helmet on..the memory will linger
Of slip don Smith’s finger
Catches dropping short
Fumbled..fraught..bumbled
On day one and two…bowling onslaught held sway
Each day..14 wickets tumbled
So willow and leather parity
Hilarity…have to be a cruel fool to rule
Was the best test contest of bat against ball
Clarity of batters depravity
Squarely at the end of their tether
Another not too clever feather
Gravity…kowtowed even without cloud
Loud proud African crowd came
Shame the Aussies can’t
Just blame the weather
For losing the game
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.