Allsorts

A strong hit
But front of divine
A weak hit
Who designed
Divine?
What’s the answer
Any human can’t answer.
A fire
In water
Couldn’t break the Politeness of divine.

As I stand by the ancestral Ganga
And dip into the peaceful Yamuna
My heart is feeling free
As always I’m in Indian harmony

As moonlight shines over us
we go and meet our fears
and then we celebrate the joy
we had after many years

Dear caterpillar,
I’ve come to thank you for
all of your beauty
You are beautiful in the beginning
and beautiful in the end
Your transformation is proof
it’s proof of a lot of things
Something can be beautiful before
but can grow to be spectacular
Something can grow into something
even greater
even more immaculate
with time
with trust
you can grow
We can grow
into ourselves
and live fully as ourselves
even if what we are born as
isn’t who we were fully intended to be
So, thank you, caterpillar and butterfly
for being in nature
proof of who some of us
are meant to be

What the seasons mean to me,
It’s everything that I see.

I learn about it all around,
The fact that seasons astound!

In March, my floral bell rings,
Specifically, on the first day of Spring.

In June, I go “Hooray!”
Because it’s Summer’s first day.

In September, I go “I Love it all!”.
Because It’s the first day of Fall.

In December, I try not to squinter,
Because It’s the first day of Winter!

What the seasons mean to me,
It’s everything that I see.

Blue drops fall
I see them because
I am tall
I ply towards the sky
And I dream for the moon

The cold wind pierces through my face
Every droplet of rain surrounds me like lace
The world suddenly seems dark
The rain continues to leave its mark
But when the world is filled with gloom
Flowers of every colour bloom

Perfection is desperation,
A call to be not human.
To be famed but not to speak,
As shackles to your living need.
Living becomes thus a hollow tree,
Thus there, noticed but never absent,
To be that perfect you.
Hollow, abstracted, muted, never able to say…
Why this way? Why that way?
And thus then you’ll realize—
That when thus eclipse shows its face,
And you’re broken,
Your desperation to feed on compliance vanishes.
And you realize—
You’re human, not a machine.

Looking through a mirror brings hope,
I tilt my head. Maybe there’s something off?
No, I can’t place my finger on it.
I’ll blame everything then,
looking in, I’m only words and phrases.
None of it could be the reality of a normal world.
Is this a realisation?
Your reality built into a mirror I can’t escape through?

That can’t be. There’s no way that’s all of it,
but if I’m shared I’ll be set free?
No ways to code out.
No words to describe this ending
world
of

Oh home, oh home,
I go to many places, but you’re where I want to roam!

Oh home, oh home,
It is lucky you’re not covered in foam!

Oh home, oh home,
Some are shaped like a dome,

Oh home, oh home,
Some crazy ones are shaped like a hair comb!

Oh home, oh home,
The nicest one in Rome!

And so as I raise this toast to home
Remember, home is not the building or the place,
but it is the people and souls who live there.

When your teacher says exam results are here,
You begin to shake and quiver in fear.
You could get anything, who knows?
The marks could be high, the marks could be low.
But even if you are not good at school,
You still have some talents that make you cool.
So don’t worry what your paper may show,
‘Cause in the future, your marks may be less low.

” A result does not matter. What matters is you.”