Allsorts

He takes me out to fun places
He works so hard
He loves building stuff
He buys me things too
when he takes me out on weekends
We call it Father-daughter Day
I love him immensely
He truly is the best.

She loves cooking
And she cooks with love
She’s really pretty
She helps me find my stuff
She cleans the house
I help her sometimes
So does my dad and my sister
I somehow like washing the dishes
I find it weirdly fun
I love her a lot
And she is, my beautiful mom!

The bushes rustling,
Leaves falling,
And trees.
Birds in their nests,
Some birds going into migration.
Bears going into hibernation.
All creatures rest.
Snakes hissing.
And that, is life through the woods!

Dear Swami, you are 17 days old,
But you are not quiet as my mother had fortold.
When you wail, when you cry,
The roof touches the sky.

When you drink milk with a slurp,
Then let gas out with a burp.
A Toothless Devil looking so cute,
And pampered as a guest in a 5 star suite.

You are as adorable as a rabbit,
When you poop, Mom says dammit.
With my friends I show you off and boast,
We chuckle, laugh and take a toast.

(to my loving sister)

I can hear the rustling leaves floating in the whistling wind.
I can see the crisp white snow crunching under my footsteps.
I can smell the freezing air rushing quickly up my nose.
I can taste thick, sweet hot chocolate sliding smoothly down my throat.

Banana socks,
There are no more in stock,
The name gave me a shock,
So I bumped into a rock.

Ketchup shoes,
I have no time to lose,
This thing gave me a bruise,
I hate my ketchup shoes.

Hot dog sun-hat,
Everybody likes that,
It looks good on my cat,
It takes it off on the mat.

Cheetos headband,
It fell on the sand,
It is very grand,
You can’t buy it
Do you understand?

When he sees me
He only sees the bad
Only sees the flaws
So I’ve come to believe
That’s all I am
I’m just flaws
According to him
There’s no good in me

Now it could be cuz
I like him
But maybe he’s right
Maybe I’m all bad
And no good
Yeah that’s the truth

A house is not a home
And a home is not a house
When I walk in someone’s home
And they say
‘This is my house!’
I wonder if they meant home
Or if they really meant house?
So just remember
A house is not a home
And a home is not a house

When I gave him a ticket
When all he did was stare
When he probably thought it was poison
When he realized what it was
He smiled
Said thank you
And went merrily
On his way

Poem writing is not that hard
Not to me at least
Poem writing’s very easy
If you know what you’re doing
For some it just comes naturally
For some it might be work
I can’t help it
But practice and
maybe
you’ll get as good
as me!