LOL, BRB, OMG

I’ve never understood these short forms,

They were used left, right and center,

By my friends when they passed notes.

Until the day I started using Facebook,

It isn’t a book,

It’s a place for people to meet,

Socialize and greet.

Short forms everywhere,

Here and there.

They became the Language,

Of Teens everywhere.

LOL, OMG and BRB,

Teens became used to these,

They made mistakes in essays,

Teachers despaired; but what could they say?

Even now, despite warnings,

Teens are attached to that dreaded place,

Ruining their language and wasting their time.

But how can I blame anyone?

For I am a teen too.

Ms. Honey’s Aunt

Dedicated to Ms. Trunchbull, Ms Honey’s aunt from Matilda by Roald Dahl

I hate Her,

For her fat figure,

For her stupid comments,

And for her idiotic bonnets.

I hate her,

Because she’s made it clear,

That she hates me too.

I’m sick of all her do’s and don’ts

She makes me want to stamp,

And say “I won’t!”

She tries her best to make me cry,

There hasn’t been a day since August,

That my cheeks have been dry.

I go to sleep at when the world does,

With a sick feeling in my heart.

It’s me she beats,

I’m the one who weeps,

I’m powerless against her,

Somebody, kill her!

I know she killed dad,

She denys it because

It proves that she’s bad.

I found a house then,

I moved in, proudly and thankfully,

And now, she has no one to clean her den.

Then Matilda helped me,

She helped me scare Aunt,

Now she’s gone, and I’m free!

I Want To Run

I want a holiday,

I don’t care if it isn’t May.

I’m sick of school,

All I do during classes

Is sit and drool.

I have a headache,

I can’t concentrate,

I want to run,

Run out of school;

Run into fresh air,

Out of the stuffy, classroom, that’s bare.

I want to kick back, relax,

Feel the sun on my face,

I’m sick of air-conditioning,

I’m tired of the fans turning,

I want some real, sweet-smelling wind.

I’m sick of Geography,

And Maths, History and Biology,

My head is full with English and Chemistry,

I want to empty my mind,

Empty it of knowledge that grinds.

I want to run,

Run towards freedom,

Run till I can’t anymore,

Run to the end of the world

Where it isn’t a bore,

Far, far away,

As far as possible,

From the dreaded building we call School!

Get Me Away!

I hate my school,

It’s stinky and rotten,

I don’t fit in,

That’s the bottom truth.

I thought this school would be great,

The day came; I could hardly wait.

Then disappointment fell,

After three months,

I still had only one friend.

They don’t talk my language,

All they do is gossip and boys,

They’re “girly-girls”,

Not like me; not at all.

In my old school we’d toss a ball,

During break, in the hall.

Here if I mention it,

They stare at me and giggle,

And say “Dude! We’ll get sweaty!”

I hate all who brought me here,

I feel like a bound and trapped deer;

I have no escape route,

This madness is enough to make one shout,

And scream and tear, at their hair,

“Get me away from this stinking place!”

War Within Myself

“Charge!” yells the minuscle white commander,

His sword held aloft and his teeth bared,

His armies follow at his command,

Brave warriors; every one of them;

Fighting the foreign invaders,

For their lives, their host, their body.

The steel blades clang aginst one another,

Fighting to kill.

The commander dies; they scatter, confused.

Outside, my body heaves with effort, and pain.

The armies roar, my blood runs,

My organs burn as the invaders use guns,

There are too many,

My warriors are falling;

Failing fast.

Then it is all over,

The battle is past,

The invaders are cheerful;

They have triumphed.

The battlefield is strewn,

With my blood; my life.

I slip away into the darkness,

Slowly, slowly.

I have lost the war,

Within myself.

I got the idea for this poem when i was sick on Tuesday 2nd September. I was really ill and in a bad condition. As i thought about viruses and bacteria attacking my body, I remembered being taught about them in primary school. In our textebooks, the pictures of white blood cells and viruses where coloured white and green respectively, and they were clad in armour and carried swords and guns. They had mouths and some of them were talking, too. At that time, I actually thought that viruses and WBCs looked like that.  I was surprised to learn later than they simply secreted substances to kill or engulf viruses and bacteria.

Summer In India

Hot and dirty,

Sweaty and filthy,

That’s how it is,

The unique Indian Summer.

Grass as always,

A parched yellow,

The few flowers wilting,

The fruits aren’t mellow.

The houses are silent;

Their windows shut,

This sweltering heat,

Doesn’t stop for even a beat.

The air-conditioners,

Running at their full speed,

Down to their lowest temperatures,

They give barely any relief.

At this moment,

The loveliest treat,

Would be the banishment,

Of this sweltering heat.

Global Warming Is Increasing

Global warming is increasing,

Species and their habitats are decreasing;

All human-induced.

We throw rubbish on the streets,

And plastics in the creeks,

Not caring what will happen,

To the life living under,

The once clear blue water.

Tigers and lion,

Once so majestic and strong,

And tall and proud,

Now lie under blank, dark shrouds.

Birds of colourful feathers,

Are now tightly tethered,

To the fate of this earth,

By human hands.

I do feel frightened,

Of the fate that will befall,

Our generation someday.

I wish I could stall,

This dreadful decay,

Conservation, conservation,

The word is drummed into our skulls in school,

We think the people who act on it are cool.

Everyone talks about it,

We discuss, argue and debate,

But what action do we take?

This is a futile hope,

Until everyone starts caring,

The responsibility of this degradation,

We should start bearing.

The Beach

Oh, how wonderfully calm,

Lined with trees of palm,

With clear waters and waves,

Slapping gently on fine, white sand.

Hear, as the palm trees rustle,

Devoid completely of bustle,

Watch, as little architects build castles,

Bask in the warmth,

Of no restraints and hassles,

You’ll feel rested,

Your patience isn’t tested,

Oh, how perfect is the beach!

Oh, I’d kill for a visit,

To this restful beach,

Mark my words,

You’ll come home,

As rosy as a peach!  

Let’s Do A Play

This poem is currently under maintenance. Thank You.

Chess

Chess is a wonderful game,

Which can sometimes be a very big pain.

We have to concentrate and think,

We could sometimes be distracted by a wink!

Let me tell you a little about this game,

With its unbelieveably simple aim!

It’s about eight Pawns who sacrifice themselves fearlessly,

For the King they love so dearly.

There are two Knights in shining armour,

Who are not at all like mere farmers.

Two Bishops who attack left and right,

The black ones capture the whites!

Don’t forget the two Rooks; so majestic and strong,

They never do anything wrong.

The Queen is the ultimate piece,

She never gives her enemy peace.

The King is the coward of the board,

He just waits at the back; looking bored.

The excitement heightenes when,

The King is at the gate,

And there happens a check mate!

I guess what I’m trying to show is,

When you play this game, you can’t miss,

It’s all really a war,

Which some people think is a bore,

But I think it’s from the days of yore.