Poetry by Jeff Green



by cricketjeff on August 31, 2009.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

He’s standing still and hoping for a tickle to the slips
Or maybe just a loopy one that brushed the finger tips
He’s ready with a urgent scream if it should strike the pad
Today could be the best day that the new boy’s ever had

And later stood at mid-on he must dive to save a run
Or leap to catch an airy drive when balls are sharply spun
And all the time he’s thinking of his turn to bat or bowl
And can he help his team mates to achieve their sporting goal

The ball clutched in his sweaty hands the captain sets the field
In less than half a minute will his talent be revealed?
Or will the batsman’s eyes light up, the ball will disappear
And he won’t get another chance until another year

He swallows hard to calm his nerves the ball flies to its mark
The batsman plays and misses like a hunter after dark
No shaking now he wears a grin the next ball will be fast
This moment he has waited for is proving quite a blast

Their turn to bat, he’s number eight, no rabbit nor a star
His batting’s never been his boast and will not take him far
But when his turn arrives they only need a very few
His only job to not be out while others guide them through

Now in the bar he’s feeling great his first game and they’ve won
His part was fairly minor but was wagon loads of fun
The captain buys another round and practice is arranged
He’s now a First Team Cricketer and all of life has changed!