The Wall (final copy)

Here's the final copy of The Wall:

Climbing up clinging ivy

Seems ever so simplistic,

For using that shining green rope,

One can conquer the highest peak.

But when the time comes to begin,

The wall is just too tall, and the feat is overwhelming.

Searching for cracks and chips

Is seemingly easy at first,

For a miniscule defect is all that’s needed

To scale its surface, weather worn

But when the time comes to begin,

The wall is just too smooth, and the deed is impossible

Fingers gripping, though knuckles white

Appears effortless to some,

For when using power and nerve

One can reach the top.

But when the time comes to begin,

The wall is just too slick, and the act is much to bold

But when given proper tools,

Hesitation is evicted.

With the rope of care, and the hook of patience,

Perseverance is the only option.

To these sacred few, scaling the wall is a mission accomplished.

The wall

Climbing up the clinging ivy

Seems easy to many

But when it comes time to start,

The wall is just too high.

Searching for chips and cracks

Seems simple to many

But when it comes time to start,

The wall is just too smooth.

Gripping with fingers and feet

Seems unremarkable to many

But when it comes time to start,

The wall is just to slippery.

But there are some who persevere,

Who try harder than the rest.

To them the wall is not to high, smooth or slippery.

They are the ones who make it to the top.

Draft 1 of one of my multi genre poems.

Lessons of Nature

As a bubbling creek of pure water

Hides the sneaky crab,

The honeyed words of a crook

Shrouds his wicked pincers.

Learn from this lesson of nature.

As the sun's golden rays

Strengthen the delicate flower,

The careful guidance of a teacher

Allows his pupils to grow.

Learn from this lesson of nature.

As the sturdy roots of an oak

Withstands heavy rains,

The bonds of true friendship

Can survive any monsoon.

Learn from this lesson of nature.

As the toughened shell of the tortoise

Protects him from his enemies,

The stronghold of family

Shields one from his problems.

Learn from this lesson of nature.

As the black nighttime

turns into sweet day,

All all that is evil will someday perish,

And all darkness will soon become light.

Learn from this lesson of nature.

-Shivi

Wrote this after reading some panchatantra stories.

:)

Only just a leaf

I once thought I saw an autumn leaf

Become a butterfly,
When captured by the East Wind

Ever playful, ever sly.

It glided over valleys green

And into the sky so blue,

Passing over fields of flowers

Of every possible hue.

It fluttered over massive trees

Of flaming red and gold,

And flitted over passers-by

Strangers young and old.

And as the day drew near an end

And with a sense of grief,

The wind let fall its new toy

And the leaf was just a leaf

-Shivi

Stored Away

Under a sea of carpets and dust,

Lies a large iron key, all covered in rust.

Holding the power to open a door

That has seldom been held open before.

Inside it's lock it uneasily groans,

It waits there, frozen, as though made from stone.

Held by hands, cautious, shaking

Brand new fears are monsters waking.

Hands are frozen, locked in place,

And then, with the utmost grace,

They hang the key upon the door

Storing secrets away once more, once more.

Through the eyes of the robin

A robin lands on a Gulmohar tree

He peers through the leaves at this vibrant land

And sees a farmer toil, happy and free

He sees the oceans and sparkling sand

He sees the child collecting pretty shells

And hears the bangles jingling on her hand

He sees the women gossip by the wells,

He hears a child laugh out loud

And hears their dainty anklet’s tinkling bells

He sees the peacock strutting, ever proud

He hears the cry of the village boys

And sees the bazaars with their bustling crowd.

He sees the stalls selling color and noise.

He sees the spices and silks being sold there now

And sees the child play with her wooden toys

He tastes fresh milk from the friendly brown cow

He sees the lush green fields and poultry farms

And sees the tired farmer washing his feet and wiping his brow

He sees the mothers with plump babies in their arms

He sees the pretty young girls with manners so mild

And sees young men showing off their charms

He sees the fruits and nuts so neatly piled

He hears clear, blue rivers, so many times crossed

And smells the lovely fragrant flowers growing wild

He knows this treasure must never be lost,

He must preserve it, no matter the cost.

-------------------------------------------

I did this for a Multi genre project at school last year. This poem is a perspective of the British Rule in India.

Marching

On Ethan Allen

Hiking through the forest green,

Are merry men so rarely seen.

Their leader wears a laurel crown

Marching his men through dismal towns

And the men, who at one time jeered,

Hear trumpets blaring, and feared

For while they stood, jaws agape,

He strode toward them, with his shining cape,

And to the fleeing Yorkers shame,

He shooed them back to whence they came

	- 6 -