Vic's poetry cont..

[TheSmokingGun]

Formula 1 Cricket

A winning cricket team
is a much admired machine
that can be likened to a racing car.
Each component must gel and glean,
on field be ruthless, mean,
as a well tuned engine will propel it, fast and far.

The captain sits behind the wheel
knows which buttons to press, pedals to feel,
reads the road and stays in constant control.
He seeks out weakness in the opposition
to gain advantage and pole position,
then decides if to bat or if to bowl!

It's the batsman who selects the gears
as the captain guides and steers,
with perfect timing on the clutch.
First, second, third then really club her,
fourth and sixth to burn rubber
fifths hard to find, stuck in neutral..Out! Return to the hutch!

The bowler fuels a powerful carburetor
by means of the accelerator,
he can rev it up and make those pistons sing.
A tricky obstinate hairpin,
can be overcome with a little spin
then pedal on the metal, mindful of late tail end swing.

The keeper is the pick of the lads
with protective gloves and heavy pads,
he looks after handling and applies the brake.
It's his swift hand eye coordination and reaction
to why the car retains perfect traction,
as the chasing pack are left behind in her wake.

Waiting by the pit, the groundsman with assorted kit
if the track gets wet he will cover it,
prevents nasty accidents, pooling water and soggy mires.
While the car nips in for shelter
ensuring the track remains a belter
as it refuels, ablutes and changes tyres.

On the course two men in white or blue
to assist and help all through,
they uphold the law and give each relevant sign.
Undue care and attention will incur wrath,
as will running down the middle path,
if unheeded they will impose a caution,
next, its off the road with a heavy fine.

In order to pass the chequered flag
its clear each cog is required,
to assist and prevent turbo lag.
So jump onboard, though heed the words of Aristotle
'the whole is greater than the sum of its parts',
then turn the key and as she starts,
can you taste the bubbly from that big green bottle?

Well done man, you've combined my two favourite sports.

 

[Vic Johnston]

Thank you to all for taking the time to read my little poetic stories culminating in over one thousand views to date, never expected or anticipated there'd be much interest, so I'm not only surprised but encouraged to continue, thanks again people!! And just to acknowledge your support, here's a token of my appreciation! Live long and prosper........


As every batsman worth his salt know's full well, in cricketing terms the 'duck' is a much feared enity and too many at each sitting can destroy any promising career before it ever begins!

But as for the feathered variety, well that's a completely different story ? Read on dear friend...

Lord love a Duck !

Gather round friends, time to make amends
and listen to my overt overture
No more prescriptions for pills, to chasten ills
prevention is preferable to cure

This may sound indiscreet, we are what we eat
no pretence or old wive's tale,
just as an apple a day, keeps the doctor at bay
likewise, a coy clue to the holy grail

A tasty yellow banana, is nutritious manna
fortified with ready energy,
consuming such food, after it is well chewed
creates positive, pulsating synergy

Eat plenty of tomatoes, salads and potatoes
for all are loaded with lycopene,
you can be confidant, absorbing antioxidant
neutralises, harmful cells in the spleen

But my piece de resistance, to salubrious sustenance
nothing more than a simple duck egg,
I hear, 'shock horror, golly gosh, what a load of tosh'
allow me to continue, I beg !

The domesticated duck, adheres to water and muck
and will totally become immersed,
to us what appears gloop, to a duck is sumptuous soup
which it consumes, to quench a vigorous thirst

Nutrients beneficial to well-being, are not easily seen
nor found in processed food,
insects, maggots and worms, make many squirm
but delicious to a duck and duly imbued

Don't be put off, by what a duck likes to scoff
or think me enigmatic and vague,
when ingested by this bird, such organisms are transferred
into pure protein, contained within its egg

So look after your health, for it is your wealth
don't deviate or become unstuck,
as here is my case, plain as the nose on your face..
The Lord loves you and the Lord loves me, that's why he gave us the duck !

 

[Cold Sober]

Hope you and your followers had a great xmas and new year.
To quote from my favorite movie, 'Write it and they will come'
PS.Not an exact quote.Movie=Field of Dreams

 

[Cold Sober]

Challenge..James Dean,John Wayne,Marilyn Monroe,Mr Bogart,Elvis,........and the pool table.......you are up to this, It will be chapter whatever in your great book of verse,

 

[Gypsy King]

Keep up the good work Vic.

 

[Vic Johnston]

Challenge..James Dean,John Wayne,Marilyn Monroe,Mr Bogart,Elvis,........and the pool table.......you are up to this, It will be chapter whatever in your great book of verse,

indeed exalted company !

 

[Vic Johnston]

As the cricket season draweth nigh !

As the cricket season draweth nigh
summer swallows migrate and fly,
players and officials heave a sigh
then bid each other a parting goodbye.

The great fraternity, likewise comply
departing to homes, warm and dry,
like hibernating bears preparing to lie,
within caves, safe from winter's chilling pry.

Gone at last their craving to satisfy
a curiosity, encroaching wry
incessant in hunger like a fox sly,
nourished in knowledge, no more to vie.

Victory secured, the trophy raised high
embellished on silver, their names testify
noble battles fought out on fields of rye,
big fish inevitability, consume small fry.

As grey clouds gather in a menacing sky
the falling leaf does not belie,
gone the days of a balmy July
willow v leather, cream with apple pie.

Though summer flowers will fade and die
as the laws of nature must apply
but wipe that tear from your eye,
no need for sorrow or mournful cry.

For as sure as a pig sleeps in a sty
father time marches forward, by and by
so the bloom will return and multiply,
as shall the great fraternity to again soliloquy...

If around the silver, their mascot they'll tie ?

 

[Vic Johnston]

Though the domestic season maybe drawing nigh in the Southern Hemisphere but in the Northern it is on the cusp..

The Dawn of a New Season !

As the cricket season draweth near,
winter doldrums, become small beer
players and officials most revere,
search for crumpled whites and dusty gear

The great fraternity from hibernation reappear
as an awakening bear, stern and austere,
then imbue each other's speculative ear
with various conundrums intended sincere

Like prophets gazing into a crystal sphere
their curiosity doth blend and cohere,
long before a ball is bowled cavalier,
or struck back eagerly, without fear!

Will the sun from a blue background adhere
and shine warm, bright and clear?
Which team will lift the cup in cheer,
or sit proudly atop the summit of the premier?

What bowler and which batsman will domineer
and top the averages for this year?
Long into the night shall they persevere,
to confabulate, about the game they so endear!

From common man to noble peer
all must wait patiently to hear,
as father time rows forward at steady steer
in pearly craft of gilded veneer, like a celestial gondolier!

Indeed let's pray an almighty hand of zenith tier,
shall never bowl a ball to end his career
the consequence of which could be severe,
as both you, me and the universe into a black-hole ..would instantaneously, disappear!

 

[Vic Johnston]

Never had much time for certain 'celebrities' patting each other on the back....



Mr UnSavoury, Mr Obscene & Mrs Distasteful !

To the BAFTA awards, celebrities in hordes,
assembled at this well publicized big bash
some pose austere, others au contraire
as the countless cameras go flash,
all crave to appear, front, back and rear,
in tomorrow's tabloid editions
of Fleet Street and so many other
front page trivial trash!

No less contrived, three from the B-list arrived,
alighting from limousines, well rehearsed their routines
onto the famous red carpet, stepped a chef, a comedian
and such a 'look at me' sight
the ultimate of all drama queens,
can you hazard a guess, try not to digress,
are they really 'celebrities'
or just desperado's with means?

The first does his cooking while everyone's looking,
in either restaurant, hotel or canteen,
to enhance the flavour and his image to savour,
this illustrious chef, prefixes every word with an F'
each dish a most colourfully metaphorical cuisine
always resourceful though never remorseful,
as he piles on the gravy, he sure no shrinking daisy
it's the inimitable Mr Unsavoury!

Next, an attention seeking comedian, with no happy medium
who now plies his trade across Atlantic water,
to maintain his status, had an idea hiatus,
in cahoots with a soul mate, made headlines through Sachs-gate,
insulting a grandfather and his granddaughter,
by means of the telephone to the outrage of millions listening at
a funny man 'of sorts', effervescent with vulgar retorts,
a real Lazarushian libertine...none other than Mr Obscene!

Last but by no means least, all eyes now feast
on a 'lady' of irrepressible rants,
formally page 3, now gossip magazines and even T.V
often seen without brassiere and pants,
always in pursuit of the cash, though never abash,
she can on demand, reduce or expand
two quite profound silicone implants,
the ever unfaithful and disgraceful...Mrs Distasteful!

After the smiling and waving, the dancing and raving
they stuffed their botox enhanced faces,
as avarice and gluttony, often indulge those of airs and graces?
Partying into a late hour, en route to the next bar,
walked by an old tramp begging for a little charity,
but in keeping to form as was their norm,
with their noses aloft whilst muttering expletives ending in off,
brushed pasted him in keeping with character and pedigree!

But this old tramp had an unknown little champ,
who like him does not correlate with ubiquitous society,
and it took great offence at such pretence,
of people so rude and their dismissive attitude,
so decided on due recompense!
As the three hurried away to their next big soiree,
naturally, could not ignore one more camera's click,
and as they posed risqué, just who or what would betray, that next sensational, front cover pic?

Then a crafty wee creature of pointed facial feature,
ran out from a dark alleyway,
so to make amends, it jumped in front of the lens
and there, unmoved it did stay!
Thus in next day newspapers and every magazine
pictured on front and inside, they had no where to hide,
by now, have you guessed who I mean?
Superimposed over each mug looking smug, staring back, the face of a rat was clearly seen!

So if you bat up the order, higher than six or seven,
then doubtless you are good,
but don't be dismissive of number eleven
and the way he swings the wood!
For you maybe out in the middle with the last man as he plays second fiddle,
so treat him with respect, offer sound advice and the effect,
will be you'll have a friend, who can hold up an end
because, you have compassion and display brotherhood!

Neither unsavoury, obscene nor distasteful be
and it shall be obvious for all to see,
you are a first class bat, likewise a decent chap
and besides that, you will never be plagued by a Rat!

 

[Vic Johnston]

The Catch !

A 'senior' bachelor bowler at our cricket club failed to see the error of his ways often bemoaning why he was going wicketless for around 15 per over per game? I suggested he get himself down to Monday evening net practice for once in his life and sort out his line & length problems, he briskly retorted;

" If I were to do that my evening tea dishes would not get washed until Tuesday"

You couldn't make it up...Could you ? Though all these years later, perhaps such absurdity was not lost on me........

The Catch !

Standing lonesome and pitiful,
far out by the boundary rope
the day was really beginning to drag
and I was fast losing hope,
I'd failed again with the bat,
yet another calamity
and now I'm watching fluffy clouds pass by,
oh dear, woe is me!

Why did I not invent a paltry excuse,
call or send a text
informing him I could not play,
even though he would be vexed?
Like my second cousin once removed is visiting,
or the cat's not well
but our skipper is a shrewd old bird
and a rat he'd easily smell!

Now don't take me wrong or get confused,
I do enjoy the game
but lately I have been faltering and really,
I've only myself to blame,
as despite his protestations,
I think weekly practice on the whole
is boring so I don?t attend,
that's probably why I never get on to bowl!

Goodness gracious a wicket down,
Geeves has got one to nip back
not a bad effort I suppose,
though perhaps it hit a crack?
My o my he's done it again,
their big hitter has played all around
and now he's taking the long walk,
returning to the visitor?s compound!

But it won't make any difference,
they'll easily overtake our score
although the skipper and young Endicott,
battled as if they were in a war,
they got us to some sort of total,
though hard for me to observe
gee-whiz the skippers bowled his counterpart,
boy, he's got some nerve!

Despite these minor triumphs,
their joviality is mere parole
as this alacrity won't last long,
old Tobias is on to bowl,
I know the old duffer enjoys his cricket,
but it really is a joke
he's getting on in years though I admit,
still a sprightly bloke!

Panic must be setting in a dolly missed,
the ball hits middle stump
then another LBW, two run outs, a stumping,
old Tobias has got the hump,
but they only need a few to win then I'll get home,
ending this servitude
Ah a mighty whack, now that ball is travelling like a rocket,
gaining altitude!

But what goes up must come down,
is more than a clich?
though and behold that leather cherry,
is now fast falling my way,
as I watch it descend,
an ethereal transition overcomes my mind
time slows up and within those elongated seconds,
no longer am I blind!

Like a soothsayer I clearly see my teammates,
through an inward eye
my skipper's fortitude, leading by example
no team of his will simply 'Die'
and there's Geeves and Endicott, neither born with silver spoon
a proud father and his son, straining every sinew,
each Saturday afternoon!

Finally I see Tobias, a decorated old soldier,
who knew much worldly strife
each week he looks forward to a game
now long since retired from army life,
then instantly this time portal disappears,
I?m back waiting for the catch
and as the ball lands firmly within my eager grasp,
I can't wait for next week's match!

 

[Vic Johnston]

The age old attritional battle between batsman and bowler pits the antagonists together in a deadly personnal duel, like two gunfighters at the O.K coral and only one will be victorious..



Why don't you sing along ?

' Big Wood '

To a cricket club in Lurgan rode a stranger one fine day
only spoke with the skipper, didn't have too much to say
No one dared to ask his business no one dared to make a quip
For the stranger there among them had a big wood by his hip
Big wood by his hip

It was early in the morning when he rode into the town
He came riding from the south side slowly lookin' all around
He's an outlaw running loose came the whisper from each lip
And he's here to do business with the big wood by his hip
Big wood by his hip

The opposition had a pacey bowler known as Nasty Ned
Many batsmen had tried to hit him but their stumps got spread
He was fast and he was vicious though a youth of twenty four
And his wickets tally numbered one and ninety more
One and ninety more

Now the stranger started talking made it plain to folks around
Was a former player who wouldn't be too long in town
He came here to put some manners into a bowlers head
Said he'd do it off the first ball, bowled by Nasty Ned
Bowled by Nasty Ned

Wasn't long before the story was relayed to Nasty Ned
But the bowler didn't worry men before had froze like lead
Ninety one had tried to take him ninety one had made a blip
Ninety two would be the stranger with the big wood by his hip
Big wood by his hip

Wickets soon fell quickly but the stranger did not twitch
And by twenty past eleven he walked out on the pitch
Folks were watching from the pavillion, sure he'd get struck
For they knew this handsome stranger was another sitting duck
Another sitting duck

There were 22 yards between them when the umpire called out play
And the timing of the stranger is still talked about today
Nasty Ned barely had cleared leather fore the stranger walked down the strip
Sending the ball far over the boundary with the big wood by his hip
Big wood by his hip

It was over in a flicker and the folks all gasped aloud
As they watched the ball go hurtling, then disappear into a cloud
Nasty Ned was taken off, knowing he'd made a fatal slip
When he tried to bounce the stranger with the big wood by his hip
Big wood by his hip

Big wood Big wood, when he tried to bounce the stranger with the big wood by his hip

 

[Vic Johnston]

After many long and happy seasons on the field, our dear comerade Robbie Streat was forced to finally throw in the towel, though as is the measure of the man, he continues to cheer on and support his friends and playing colleagues...

Ode to Robbie Streat

Robbie Streat abhorred defeat
a cricketer of substance,
First out to bat, wearing trademark cloth hat
left-handed, in style and stance

And he could bowl with pace and soul
always on the money,
Deceptively quick, quite a unique trick
every batsman was his bunny

In he'd bound, right arm over or around
never conceding extras,
And his talent went deep, for he could wicket-keep
was ever one so dextrous?

But today, he said, “No more play
boys, this time I'm beat,
Due to a ruptured knee, from now I'll make the tea
alas, the end is nigh for Robbie Streat”

His teammates sighed, some even cried
on hearing of his plight,
For they knew, Robbie was the glue
that strengthen resolve when in a fight

But their grief was short, as Robbie did retort
“I'll not hide my light under a bushel,
By trade a fitter and no quitter
beyond the boundary, I'll flex my voice-muscle

I'll take my rightful seat, long-side a class elite
with Gerald, big Harv and many more,
So uplift your hearts, for when the season starts
together... We'll give ‘em war! “

 

[Vic Johnston]

Fortescue's dilemma..

Lord Fortescue could not sit alone
and bide away precious time,
always by the book, no babbling brook
straight talking his regime

A retired colonel, a decorated career
served King and country well,
though civvy street, gave him itchy feet
so he began to rebel

After dinner parties at his home grand
guests, ceremoniously drilled,
and any gentleman, whose boots were bland
made aware of his déshabillé

And when the vicar called for weekly visit
he too, subject of short shrift,
shown the front door, for nothing more
than asking for philanthropic gift

Though once a colonel, his wife, the general
finally had enough,
the good Fortescue name, must not be shamed
so took him by the scruff

"Horace, my fine fellow, now listen here
relinquish your dominion,
accept your station or take permanent vacation
none regard, inflated opinion!"

But Smithers the family butler, long standing
listening with keen antenna,
knew the master's malcontent, not his natural bent
sought cure for this dilemma

He organised a local cricket match
the venue, Fortescue's estate,
his Lordship chipper, appointed himself skipper
of that, there was no debate

A fine, competitive game ensued
Fortescue led by example,
his innings prolific, his leadership terrific
courageously, he bore the mantle

Out LBW on ninety-nine, adjudged by umpire Smithers
but acceptingly, he departed,
as applause pulsated, reputation reinstated
ne'er again, stand-offish nor cold hearted

The old military officer, now back to former self
willow replaced, the swagger-stick,
aided by stellar gent, Smithers, his manservant
knew what made the master tick

And as for Lady Fortescue, a woman of substance
relieved the worm had turned,
no more in dread, her husband brings his bat to bed
between them, things now feel firm!