115 – A Cricket Haiku

Poem number 115
A Cricket Haiku
Anderson storms in
Overcast skies aid the swing
28 for 2.


117 – Resignation Letter

Poem number 117
Resignation Letter
I’m off to see the cricket
For I have a Test Match ticket
With a good view of the wicket
So just take your job and stick it
‘Cause I’m off to see the cricket.

189 – An Absence Of TMS

Poem number 189
An Absence Of TMS
I wanted to hear some Test cricket today
But couldn’t ’cause it wasn’t on,
Sri Lanka already blasted away
On day three, so the cricket is gone.
Days four and five simply empty, bereft
With no Test Match to help get me through
No Aggers or Geoffrey or Graeme Swann left
Just my job, on a Monday, boo hoo!
It’s not that I’m sorry that England have won
I’m a fan and a win makes me chuffed,
I’m happy that Bairstow has blasted a ton
And Sri Lanka were pretty well stuffed
But next time, Sir Jimmy, please could you postpone
Your heroics ’til Tea on day five
That way I can listen, and not be alone –
It’s the cricket that keeps me alive!

290 – The Second Innings

Poem number 290
The Second Innings
I turned it round the corner
Past Short Leg to Backward Square
I only took a single
But it got me off a pair
A single off the next one
Brought me back onto the strike
Some chin music
I bobbed and weaved
As easy as you like
Short and wide, despatched through Point
No need to run for that
A Cover drive of beauty
From the middle of the bat
An edge! Just short of Second Slip
The bowler’s stifled shout
The Umpire calls out Over
And the fielders move about.
Six balls, tens runs, a little rest
The warming golden sun
Sweet memories of village greens
Return now summer’s done.

377 – An Ode to TMS

Poem number 377
An Ode To TMS
The world is pretty rubbish
There is no denying that,
So console yourself with TMS
Whilst England are at bat.
It’s a haven from reality
A dose of gentle calm –
The world of TMS
Is an oasis, full of balm.
No darkness dwells in TMS
No evil or mistrust
The news is never mentioned
And the only things discussed
Are the cricket, cakes and pigeons
Sometimes cranes and buffets too,
Henry’s suits and Andrew’s stats
A DRS review
Geoffrey’s stick of rhubarb
Gales of laughter at a pun
Then Aggers with his podcast
When at last the day is done.


You can hide yourself in TMS,
Cocooned within its charm
Some would say that’s cowardly
But I say what’s the harm?
Is the child who keeps the light on
So the monster doesn’t feast
To be thought of as a lesser child
Than one who slays the beast?
If a day beside the wireless
Can restore a man’s good cheer
If a rainy morn’ with TMS
Can ease a mortal’s fear
Then it’s medicine, a tonic
And not cowardly at all
Which is why in these foreboding times
I scarcely miss a ball.
So here’s to TMS, I say
For giving us a break
For keeping us from monsters
Here’s to TMS, and cake.