Contrast

Author’s Note:- Sorry for neglecting this blog for a week or so, (I had exams at school) but I’ll be writing much more often! I took the inspiration for this poem from the contrast between the outdoor sports academy I go to, and the glorious sky I see above it. I hope you enjoy it!

I hear the sounds made by my feet,

As they crush the weak gravel along the street,

The dullness of old structures seeps right in,

I smell the stench of the garbage bin,

Buildings surround me, and the crowds rush past,

and so my eyes ascend to the sky so vast.

 

What beauty I then love and behold,

Fluffy clouds, silver-lined, and colours so bold,

Streaks of colour, so stunning, as birds soar by,

The sun is a splotch of paint on the canvas of the sky,

While absorbing the greatness of the giant, deep-blue dome,

I could not comprehend what lay above my home.

 

How could such a difference occur in a frame of sight?

How does the change happen – from dullness to might?

My sight perched gracefully onto the rocky road,

Nearing towards my welcoming abode,

I left behind the glory and wonders of the sky,

Promising myself to revisit it, I walked on with a sigh.

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Roots of a Tree

I’ll hold you up high,

Keep you strong in weak moments,

I will support you.

–

Your leaves will rise up,

Show off your green to the world,

I’ll always be here.

–

As you grow taller,

I’ll spread further and further,

I shall grow wider.

–

And when you’re a tree,

And sunlight showers you,

I’ll still be your roots.

–

Because you help me,

I am happy to help you,

and we sustain each.

 

City

I look out of my window,

To witness the morning light,

I watch the cars come and go,

As the sky becomes less bright.

 

I remain seated and observe,

More vehicles join the street’s crowd.

they honk blatantly and swerve,

In an atmosphere intensely loud.

 

Neon signs and ad-boards,

fill the surrounding walls,

office-workers enter in hoards,

and shopaholics into malls.

 

Here people are always in a hurry,

there are always places to go,

But I have nothing to worry,

I’m simply a spectator from a window.

The World’s Library

Humanity’s knowledge of the world in various subjects is vast and great. We’ve unveiled some of the universe’s greatest mysteries and added sense, logic and communication to our otherwise chaotic world. It isn’t surprising that we’ve built countless libraries over the years. Many know of the ancient libraries of Alexandria and the House of Wisdom. Many storage spaces of erudition have been built to shower the world with discoveries, stories and knowledge.

The majority of people lean towards learning. Don’t pretend you do not, because everyone has a passion for some kind of learning. Whether it is dance, science or sports, there is a sense of learning in everything we do. And as global citizens unravel methods and discoveries from various fields, our library grows larger and larger.

Our understanding, opinions and perception of knowledge may change over time. There may be disagreements and debates, but that will do nothing more than call out for more learners to settle the argument.

So what will be our next great library? The internet.

Almost limitless information, data and stories are stored on the internet. It is a community of teachers, learners, students, businesspeople and entrepreneurs. It is a platform for change, it is a voice and it is a library. A library of the world’s knowledge.

And it is unlikely that it will be wiped out easily.

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Above the Clouds

Stand tall, confident,

Though don’t make people near feel,

Small and quite lonely.

–

Instead, bring them up,

Bring them up to where you stand,

Free from the dark clouds.

–

Plunging into the

wonders of the blue sky,

Elated and well.

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

I summarised the book I recently read, The Alchemist. If you’ve read it already, I hope you enjoy this poem. If not – SPOILER ALERT!

How could I describe such a beautiful tale?
Of a shepherd boy fulfilling his destiny?
A being who learnt the Langauge of the World,
After an encounter with royalty?

Venturing all the way to Africa,
In search of the Pyramid’s treasure,
Not hurried in any way,
Just following omens in leisure.

He worked in a crystal merchant’s shop,
Leaving it better than he found,
Then set off to the pyramids,
On the sandy, desert ground.

He found a great language,
With no words and no sound,
Becoming literate in a tongue,
So extravagantly profound.

He fell in love with a desert girl,
Fatima by name,
Then met the Englishman and the Alchemist,
With a falcon to catch game.

Heading on to the Pyramids,
And being beaten up by refugees,
But he finally learnt,
He finally sees.

You could say,
That it was deja vu,
But his journey was what,
Made him learned and true.

 

A Toy in a Shop

A note to my followers – sorry about the confusion of the half written post, I do hope you enjoy my latest poetry 🙂!

I remember long ago,

I was terribly lonely, though,

after you bought me off the shelf,

I soon became a happier self.

My journey began at a factory,

where I could never possibly be lonely,

as I saw multiple versions of me,

stocked as far as the eye could see.

But then I was shipped to another place,

a store selling toys and dresses with lace,

And even though the shop was great,

I felt that for me, it was far too late.

Unless I saw a girl or boy,

interested in me – a simple toy,

I would’ve stayed on that shelf till the end of time,

my companions being dirt, dust and grime.

And so I must show my gratitude,

and now, of course, to conclude,

I hope that once you’re done with me,

when I’m much too childish and slightly dusty,

Perhaps another child would benefit too,

If I gave him what I gave you,

Pass me along and I swear I will give,

As much happiness to that child – as long as I live.

When Forgiveness met Anger – a short story

Standing on the pavement, waiting. Waiting was heart wrenching, yes. She had gone somewhere. It could be anywhere. Of course, she couldn’t have gone too far, but searching for her was not the answer just yet. She knew the way back, and if she came, she came. Perhaps the fault lay with the man who caused her to flee, the one who had been much to harsh, too rude. But as he stood at the pavement, he reflected on the event.

As her eyes had filled with bitter tears, she scowled and exited. Departed, left.. call it what you please, but the way she had left was heart wrenching. Painful. He wanted to calm her down and tell her that he would do anything to win back her favour. His love for her was never-ending.

He paused. Searching for a lacuna in her argument. There didn’t seem to be one. He was unreasonable. He worried for her safety. She was alone, out there in the world. He repeatedly told himself not to worry. “She will be safe.”

Her return was not immediate. She did not stop abruptly halfway, and run back to him. She needed time to go over their fight, and he respected that. She did not leave with a bus ticket in hand, and so he was sure that she was simply trying to fit a bit of peace into her hectic day. He himself would not have stayed and argued.

The mind heats up when it gets angry. It hurts. It makes you want to burst into flames. Anger may drive you, energise you and fire you up, but it makes your vision blurry. It prevents you from seeing truth so that you can maintain your anger. Anger feeds anger. Unless one can find an escape route, the hate would never end. If she had stayed and fought, then it would have been worse. So he did not see it as an act of cowardice, but a lionhearted act of bravery. The strength to overcome what had taken over of you and understand it, face to face.

He too had thought over it.

And so he waited. Untroubled, not prominent enough for a person to check what was wrong. To all observers, he was a regular pedestrian, standing with his hands in the pocket of his jeans, and scanning the surroundings. His feet made a tapping rhythm as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. The birds sang cheerful trill, which gave him a sense of hope. That all could be better again.

A figure appeared in the midst of the street chaos. She walked with a hood over her head, from which tangled brown hair spilled out. Her brilliant blue eyes, once puffy and sad, showed peace and forgiveness. His eyes followed hers until they stood face to face.

“I’m sorry,” they said together.

There she was, smiling through her troubles. Traces of tears were hidden by her expression. She breathed loudly and wrapped her arms around him She felt warm but scared. Her hands shivered slightly. But he was so glad she was back. So glad that she doesn’t hate him. Holding her in his arms, comforting her, and savouring the return of his beautiful little granddaughter.

Fandoms : Write Me a Poem

This poem is dedicated to Lily. If you’d like a personalised poem of your own, click here.

 Note to Lily: I couldn’t include The Twilight Saga since I haven’t read the series, but I used the rest of the topics. BTW for the other viewers – the topics used in this poem are Percy Jackson, Harry Potter and The Hunger Games.

 

I battled hundreds of monsters,

and sailed aboard the Argo II,

I attended the school of Hogwarts,

The adventures grew and grew.

 

Over the years I’ve travelled,

the trips to Camp-Half-Blood were many,

And been on field trips to other schools,

Especially ones like Ilvermony.

 

I volunteered as tribute,

and as the Victor of The Hunger Games,

I rebelled with Katniss Everdeen,

Instead of choosing money and fame.

 

I lived in New Rome,

After fighting as a legionnaire,

Now I live in the Wizarding World,

And teach Charms over there.

 

My pride leans toward Ravenclaw,

But Effie doesn’t think like me,

She thinks the magic world,

Is just ‘mahogany’.

 

I love living in my house,

To Honeydukes it’s near,

And it’s a walking distance to The 3 Broomsticks,

Whenever I want a swig of Butterbeer.

 

My gratitude is everlasting,

To the people who,

Gave me access to these wonderful worlds,

Where stories (and Potions) brew.