Competition Entry

Buster is a funny dog.
He sniffs me all day long.
He’ll dance, jump and play.
Now Buster’s tired
He rests for the night.

Looking around you
All the people are so different
You’re one person
Don’t think about other people
Just you
You’re the future and the world

What’s that twinkle in the air
flying closer to you stood there
It’s flying as graceful as it can be
the dress that it wears sways around beautifully
A sparkling wand it holds in its hand
its wings fluttering as fast as they can
Its hair is as soft, as soft as silk
its eyes sparkle with a golden tint
The sound it makes is like jingling bells
when you see one you should never tell!

Here comes a fairy granting you three wishes
she holds a sparkly wand in her tiny hand
her twinkling eyes look you in the face
her see-through wings fluttering at a pace
you wish for a happy life with lots of friends
and a family that love you much with no end
she grants those wishes – one and two
then you hold your breath
and wish your last one
you wish to be wealthy
and capable of much
in your future that holds a lot of trust

The pencil is blunt.
Oh, his grey hair
Needs to be sharp
So that he looks good.
Who will style his hair?
Me, of course,
For I am the hair stylist
Of the pencil.
I take out my tool.
A sharpener.
This sharpener
Is like the tools used by a hair stylist.
And the pencil is sharp.
It can be used for writing.
Oh! Its hair has fallen down.
Now it’s bald.
It tries to cover its bald head.
But it can’t for it
Doesn’t have hands.
Who will do his hair transplant?
Me, of course,
For I am the one who
Does the hair transplant
For the pencil.
I take out my tool.
A sharpener.
This sharpener
Is like the tools used by
One who does hair transplants.
And at last he has hair.
Sharp, grey hair.
But the pencil will come back
After some time,
For after somebody writes something,
And it ages,
It’s hair becomes blunt.
Or it becomes bald.
It will come back to me.
For I am the one
Who takes care of the pencil’s hair.

Dance with the waves,
Move with the sea…

Twas the night before Christmas when all though the house…

There is this chair
In our village.
That is said to be cursed.
We call it the cursed chair.
It became cursed because
Of a criminal,
Who lived in our village.
Once, he was caught
For committing some crime.
He was to be hanged.
Before being hanged,
He said
‘Whoever sits on this chair,
Will die under mysterious conditions.’
And so
Whoever sat on it,
Died under mysterious conditions.
We believe it is a cursed chair.
But there was an old man who said,
All that is not true.’
We didn’t agree.
‘Fine,’ said he. ‘I will sit on the chair
And show you that it isn’t cursed.’
We tried to stop him.
‘Don’t take the risk,
You will die.’
‘Well never mind,’
he replied, ‘I’m old.
It’s okay if I die.’
All our efforts were in vain.
He sat on the chair.
Nothing happened.
After one day, he’s fine.
After two days, he’s fine.
But after three days,
News spread everywhere,
Like fire spreads in a house.
The old man died
Under mysterious conditions.

Leaves, leaves
look at all the colours
red, orange, yellow.
Jump and make leaf piles
and jump in them all
The fun we have
but it can’t last forever

Is it the way I walk
Or how I talk,
How I look
Or what’s in my notebook?
On this planet
Leaks sadness in a blanket
We’re always judged
Or even nudged
Is it the clothes I wear
How I style my hair
Are my teeth not straight?
Sure, I’m no saint
D’you think it’s low self-esteem
Or will I never be supreme?
Am I not skinny enough
As fat as a cream puff
Is it ‘cos I bite my nails?
All these honest tales
I’m not yet done
I’m not even fun
I look into the mirror
But there’s no glimmer
Just me staring back
Is it beauty I lack?
Are my feet too long
Were they shaped wrong
Am I just a nerd?
Really, it’s inferred
Why couldn’t God give me the gift
The gift to give my reputation a lift
Perfection’s what I need
So I can transform from this weed
Sometimes I wonder
Then after I ponder
Is anyone perfect?
Well yes, it’s beauty they collect
God made me
Shaped me
Formed me
Into this human I am
But really I have my own glam
Everyone Is perfect
That’s why you should never neglect
Everyone’s perfect just as they are.
So, am I perfect, well yes I am.