Poems

I am bored,
so bored,
really bored,
just bored

I watch the rain
as it pours from the sky
I wish to jump and leap
I wish to fly

The parade goes on,
it’s an eye-rolling site
I glance at the sky
it doesn’t look bright

A miracle happens,
the rain stops,
then comes the hail,
my hopeful heart drops

The hail splatters,
on our soaking wet roof
it shows off some more
the hail’s plain aloof

I think, I wonder
when the festivities will end
for all I know,
bad weather’s not my friend

I am bored,
so bored,
really bored,
just bored

Then the storm stops,
I go out to play
You know what?
Rain’s not bad anyway!

I am happy,
so happy,
really happy,
just happy

The bat flies,
swoops through the air,
twisting and turning gracefully,
dancing through the thick night air.
She gently skims the water,
the reflection of her little body in the lake,
gleaming in the wonderful moonlight
as her pink tongue laps the cool water
Her tiny wings flap,
screeching out her threatening song to all prey
she is here and hungry,
waiting to feast on her catch.
Her sharp ears sense life among the dirt,
she dives blindly and catches a mouse, squealing.
The bat flaps back to her cave, tired and hungry
and devours her freshly caught prey,
as the crack of dawn appears and the sun glows,
summoning the bat to sleep

When a pen touches paper
it forms magic and mystery,
wonder and excitement,
relief and fear.
It can create castles
where a prince or princess lives,
it gleams in the sunlight,
big and bold with brilliant colours.
It can create characters,
blondes and brunettes,
good or bad,
with great debts or bitter revenge
that can tear you apart.
It can create feelings,
a mixture of wonderful emotions
that swarm inside you,
giving you feelings of joy,
or strong wretch.
It can create thoughts,
“Who is this?”
“What did he do?”
How did it start?”
All these questions that build up,
as you goes along
and reels you into the love
of questions, answers, books, reading.

But mostly, it creates wistfulness,
when the story ends

The hairy tarantulas,
jumpy monkeys
and pink flamingos
in The Deadly Zoo

There is a time in which I can write the history of my life
First I woke up from my sleep and I to brushed my teeth.
Then I took a bath, no book of maths in my bag.
Then mumma gave me breakfast so I can do things more fast.
Then I went off to school,and there I saw a swimming pool.
Then I went to my class, there was a lock so I looked through the glass.
Then I studied the whole day, then I knew I had a stay.
The day was absolutely fun, at home it was bhaji with bun.
Then I studied half an hour and I saw a light from the tower.
I bought a new t-shirt and cut its tag and my mother told me to set my bag.
When I finished to watch KBC, my father changed the channel to BBC.
Then I went off to sleep and the next day morning was the same routine .

In the sky lay a unicorn
Who had a rusty horn
But she never knew
What we knew
Till she got told

A man Phil came up the hill
And saw the rusty horn
He could not believe it
He helped her fix it up

I stand on the sandy beach,
I let my feet sink in,
The feel of the sand calms me,
And the song that the sea sings
A crystal colour glimmers on the sea,
From the sun itself,
Its golden glow beams, like a smile.
The sky is lit purple,
The clouds are wispy-pink,
It is so quiet,
You can easily think.

There once was a girl called Lily,
She was always rather chilly,
All of her dresses were frilly,
Her personality was quite silly,
In the winter she’d wear a dress,
In the summer she’d wear a winter vest,
Silly Lily, she gets stuff back to front,
Silly chilly back to front Lily.

Many people for entertainment listen to music,
Even music is put on the competition of rubics.

There are many instruments of music like piano, tabla and guitar,
Even there are many songs like twinkle twinkle little star.

The swaras of music are Sa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, Dha, Ni,
They are made into ragas like Durga, Bhupali and Kafi.