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Unlock solutions to your love life challenges, from choosing the right partner to navigating deception and loneliness, with the book "Lust Love & Liberation ". Click here to get your copy!

Dipanjan Bhattacharjee

Others

3  

Dipanjan Bhattacharjee

Others

Cricket Live

Cricket Live

2 mins
196


The sound of the stadium's roar,

Resonates with every four,

Down the pitch,

Over the arm,

Cricket has its own charm


Truly felt and truly said,

Cricket is a game of grade.

Behold the field.

Through the green,

Here comes a googly spin.


The batsman staring straight,

Bowler chose his fate.

It's a Medium pace 

Seamed so well,

The yorker went and hit the bell.


He got a duck and out,

You can hear them shout.

Finger went up,

Towards the sky,

And the batsman missed his try.


The next one came down the line,

With a hope to hit and shine.

He stood with guts,

The pacer ran again,

Straight down the pitchy lane.


The ball came short in length,

The batsman gained his strength.

O a six,

Big one high,

They saw the ball hit the sky. 


Then came spinners one by one, 

A breathless match beneath the sun.

Few more sixes,

Few more fours,

They played it with their elated force.


The scoreboard reached a score,

They strived for another four. 

Two hundred and six,

A huge one indeed,

The bowlers had known the need.


The break was over with the team,

They wanted a win out of whim.

Eager with a smile,

The bowler steady true,

With all his vigor, he ran through. 


The ball was fast down the pitch,

It came flying like a witch.

Straight to the pad, 

We heard a noise,

Howzat! said the bowler's humble voice.


The umpire saw through the scene,

Made his ways to feel it clean. 

He felt a sign,

Fingers rose high,

Pointing at the cloud-filled sky.


They too adamant claimed review,

The third umpire held the view.

The ball was straight, 

Hitting the stump,

They heard the noises of the crump.


The third umpire raised the red,

The batsman had to leave the bed.

He moved out,

With a sulky face,

They lost another hope of grace.


With running balls through the field,

Few more runs they had build.

But more bells fell,

Wickets crossed the mile,

Meddling through their gracious smile.


Final end had spoken the fate,

The first team had won the sate.

They cheered their win

Joy was pouring down,

Through all the streets of the town.


It is rightly felt and said,

Cricket indeed is a game of grade. 

Over the pitch,

Through the green,

It has always rocked the scene.


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