The Revolutionary Raven

by Youngsung aged 12

Once upon a midnight dreary
Were the colonists weak and weary
As they had been for many years before

They paid more prices
And made sacrifices
To make up the cost of the war

So while the Brits were gently napping
The colonists came slowly tapping
Onto the boat’s wood floor

Sneaking down below the deck
They went to wreck
Anything else that was in store

Then in the boat, they overthrew
some of the cargo into the blue
And then they threw some more

Soon when the soldiers awoke
They saw that they were broke
They’d lost all of their tea packs

So the Parliament all agreed
To go ahead and make a decree
Which were called by colonists, the Intolerable Acts

These acts helped to empower the King
And soon he had outlawed town meetings
and they didn’t repeal the tax

So the colonists declared freedom
Because they didn’t need them
Their tolerance rose to the max

So started the Revolutionary war
With so much in store
And the rest, is well, just the facts

Seven Sided Hexagon

by Praniti Gulyani aged 14

six hexagons, carved we—
on the crystal ball of our world
for each month we spent together
I stepped down from my roller coaster,
and told you—
that I’d left my footprints on the sky
you looked.

six hexagons, carved we—
on the crystal ball of our world
for each month we spent together
I told you, one night—
that the sky had lost a constellation
you looked.

six hexagons, carved we—
on the crystal ball of our world
for each month we spent together—
I claimed, one afternoon
that I could weigh the evening
you smiled and
got me the weighing machine
you looked.

six hexagons, carved we—
on the crystal ball of our world
for each month we spent together—
pausing before the road not taken
I asked you to check
for sticks and stones
yet, you colored a bit of breeze
with the bitter hues of sour grapes
merely mentioning the ointment
just in case my feet bled

six hexagons, carved we—
on the crystal ball of our world
for each month we spent together
your intrigue, when I ask Santa
for a seven sided hexagon.

Last English Lesson

by Praniti Gulyani aged 14

(Dedicated to Sanya Taneja Maam’s English classes)

the sun sets into a blur of dictionaries
the wilted winds blow on the herbs
and somewhere,
holding onto the fragile ends
of a passing cloud
a soft, slow syllable

tilting horizontally
a last evening cloud
dipping into the greenness of vast seas
every ripple carving, crossing
and we, as sailors, see the sky
through a cookie cutter
and the multitude of shapes it takes
through a cookie cutter

the moon rises in a scatter of conversation
globe trotting,
star counting, dream sewing
disentangling the moon from cloud shine
and then slicing the moon –
and tossing it as well
then plucking strings of stars
to stitch them all together

looking above the dictionary –
to find a synonym for “tear battles”
looking beneath the dictionary–
to find a synonym for “sob stifling”
putting up the facade of a smile

when the subject
agrees with the verb
fingers stopping on ‘abstract nouns’
cramming all dreams
into the spaces between verses
clustering all conversation

tilting vertically
a last summer cloud
drenching its wispy ends in starlit waters
yet, brushing off the stars

and clinging to the thread-like ends
of fragile clouds –
one last spring syllable

looking between dictionary pages
a synonym for ‘memory’ –
a synonym for ‘amazing’ –
a synonym for ‘imprint’ –

Melted Rainbows

by Praniti Gulyani aged 14

a moment of butterfly —
a wing twirls, into a blur of color
dropping softened stains
onto the colorless breeze

wisps of twilight cloud,
between commercial chimneys
a restless dreamer seeks shelter
what it takes to tell a child
Santa Claus’s secret

plucking frozen rainbows
from sheets of sky
frozen rainbows in overturned hourglasses
and along with the sand
a mess of melted rainbow

weaving a dream into this melted rainbow
questing for a star along its edges
that father, who went on a long journey
and promised two raindrops
yet, he never returned

tears stopping midway
on mother’s heart strings
rotating a crystal ball
again and again

standing by the shore
the day trickles into
the roots of twilight
stained winds leaving their color
on my pale cheeks

what if all the seasons—
entered the world together?


by Praniti Gulyani aged 14

amidst clusters of clouds, you came
streaming torrents of sunshine
and I see the sun rise in your eyes
the sun rays reaching out,
stirring a broth of emotions
in the deepest chambers of my heart
and I cry tears –
tears which do not reach my eyes

no intentions for an emotional adieu
fingers shall sail through timetables
no longer will my finger pause
at that one box
my cozy world shall spill from boundaries
it will leak into a facade
and then, I shall look at
this glimmering oasis
and, I shall cry tears
tears which do not reach my eyes
frozen between heartbeats
as I struggle to brush them from
tightened heart sinews

who looks out for an eidelweiss?
I shall!
and with its petals, I shall make crowns
crowns that crest my walls
And then I will think of the eidelwiess
these tears which do not reach my eyes
shall pose as –
moist rainbow dew drops
for these petals lacking dew

white doors, normal doors,
ordinary doors, hospital doors
office doors creaking
blurs of confusion flitting in and out
and when, on its hinges
the door pauses

Indian ladies are always –
a blur of colour, so I heard
every blur of colour making me stop –
I pause, I think and then I smile
the frozen tears holding
onto heart strings
tighten their grip

Diwali night, I shall be staring –
an arch of sky curving overhead
the only arch without light
and yet this arch stretches on
extending into infinity
how futile every Diya seems,
this arch is stretching
thinking of her expanse of sky –
how futile an oil lamp of gratitude
in this extending stretch –
the frozen tears holding onto heart strings

looking up at the illuminated sky
and amidst the stars, her star
still twinkling –
reflected in my tears
forever shimmering
and starshine in her eyes
the next day when we met
in school

Fruit Alive

by Risha aged 11

The apple sings,
The banana runs.
The pear has wings,
The mango makes buns.
The kiwi wears rings,
The orange brings.
Altogether they are Fruit Alive!

My Ninja Cat

by Risha aged 11

My beloved cat,
That is ginger,
and also very fat,
is a crazy ninja!
He kicks,
He punches,
he scratches,
He bites.
Watch out,
or you’ll be in one of the fights.

The End of the Rainbow

by Risha aged 11

Oh, dear Rainbow,
Please show us your end,
Show us the light,
And the heart of a friend.
Show the brave knight,
Show the pot of gold,
Show much greatness,
And courage of the bold.

My Secret

by Blake De Franco aged 9

My secret is made of…
The last breath of King Tut
Before he passed away
And the golden sand shimmering
On the secret tomb of Tutankhamun
A drop from the powerful River Nile
Crystal crumbling from a hidden mummy
The tip of the tallest golden pyramid
And the last journey
Into the underworld.

My Secret

by Natasha Vizor aged 9

My secret is made of…
Sand crumbling from pyramids
Like snow falling from a house
Nubis’s last words fading into
The fast flowing river
The Nile biting the golden shore
Glistening in the sunlight
And a scarab beetle
Crawling across the sandy floor
The Boy King curse
Heard across the giant world
And the treasures long lost underground.