Two Poems On Cricket


Cricket! With hitches on pitches, take your stride and
turn it from the herd. Tell the pride in gleaming white
to let the knight stay still.
Show the team that verdant splendour.

Clear the course in route red candour.
Sight the floes and line the drives. Tell your force
the innings well over. Hoist the gold to seams of old.
Oh! Pay the yield. Savour the fruits of your field.
Take good aim. Peel the seal and watch the name.
This is the game!

Runs and byes.
In tons of highs for skippers with flippers that
cut the drives which slip to cover.


I Declare

I declare the score complete, the figure well made,
the innings closed. I request a credit worth, a rate
in check, a swing in turn. I require no charges spared, no
overruns, no throws adrift. I convey a seal of value,
an ear austere, a whirl of wisdom.

I survey the drives to date, the slashes with haste, the
cuts of late. I secure a count full square, the gaps all backward,
the lines of flight. I refuse the styles of play, the quarters closed,
the bold embrace, the fair expanse.

I remake the scoreless feet, the talent hued, from no sole
distance and mission astride. I reclaim the leader's virtue, the
victor's path, the silent pitch. I return the glances favoured,
the stride reserved, across the tapered carpet to claim a
striking rate.

I retrace the winner's circle amidst all talent nurtured,
in sight supreme with deeds to match the stroke in bold.
I relive the grasp of triumph to rain the winner's wage, in
motions truly graceful for ayes with cadence pure.


William Walcott