Pages

Thursday, November 19, 2009

The Little Master


Poise Glows,
Greatness Speaks.
The Willow Caresses.

White or Red it be,
Greeting the leather With,
An Ever So Beautiful Stroke.

Twenty Years,
Spent In a Zillion Overs.
A nation's hopes on his Shoulders.

Him Driving Off and On,
We Win Or We Lose,
Victory Is already Ours.

He Stands along with a Few,
Who nurture our Hope,
Who Humble Us,
Who Unite Us.

What He Has Given,
We Know No One can ever,

As they say,
If the sport be a religion,
He Is God.

Greatness Speaks,
Poise Glows,
The Willow Caresses.

----------------------------
An Ode to the man,
20 years for India.
If Cricket was A game of One,
We are champions Over and Over.
Forever.

6 comments:

moonlite:D said...

great work!! great poem :)
like your poems a lot!!
keep writing more

nanda said...

thank you moonlite, so nice of you to stumble upon my blog :)
thanks for the encouragement!

Amrutha said...

yes,nandy i see way too many fan following you these days.
it amazes me :P

Read:creative immaturity- ya'all!! :P :P

nanda said...

@a.bushan: if i suffer from creative immaturity, it is so disappointing that creative people such as U are left alone. No one to relate to, none to criticise either. Being your own fan, critic and writer. Sounds courageous. But it borders on insanity driven by loneliness.
enjoy.

Amrutha said...

:P
nandy pandy!

Amrutha said...

yes aa?