Octopus Poetry


The Sound Of The Duck Trophy


Hello duck trophy, my old friend,

I've come to claim you once again

Because a ball so softly looping

Hit my pad while I was sweeping

And the vision that was planted

In my brain

Still remains

Jo Pandya-Smith's raised figure - Bast***!


SI '14



A Long Way Out


It's a long way out to the middle

For the man with no runs to his name.

Will this be the day he gets off the mark

And avoids the hall of shame?


It's a long way out to the middle

When your bat is heavy with dread.

What do you do when you're nervous,

But you've no more nerves to shred?


It's a very long run-up for the bowler,

Which is always a sign of doom,

And when he arrives at the crease to deliver the blow

You just know it'll be over soon….


It's a long way back from the middle

For the man with no runs to his name.

And all for the want of one lusty hit

To need never feel the same.


Duck after duck after duck after duck,

Will the victims recover or crack?

One hopes for the best, but it's never good

When even your nightmares go quack.


PH '09





For some, it's a new delight,

For others, a more seasoned eye.

Sometimes it's the taking part,

At others the battle cry.


For some, it's a chance to recover

From Saturday night's excess.

For others, a chance to ponder

On life's rich and varied quest.


For some, a chance to exercise,

For others, to be part of a team.

For some, a Sunday off,

For all a chance to dream.


For those in form the sun is shining,

For the rest it seems to rain,

But for all a love of cricket,

That quintessential English game.


PH '09