The Poetry Marathon

Sleep is his absolute favourite

12 hours a day, that’s just basic

A comfortable blanket and ample space

That’s how he likes to savour it

Any hour of the day he picks

Not a cuddler but loves curling up

That’s my cat, a tiny kitty

Who absolutely loves to sleep!

Oh this book!

It has my heart.

I haven’t read it multiple times

But only once

But the one time

Made such an impact

The love for the country

For stories of that land

I went on a spree

Reading stories from Afghanistan

Khaled Hosseini, Nadia Hashmi, so many more!

The war, the loss, the spirit of the land

Oh it’ll always be in my heart

This book and the stories of this land.

Oh what fun it would be

A road trip across the country

With loads of snacks of all kinds

A playlist for the road

Another for the nights

A set of clothes

A bag full of treats

There’s so much we would carry,

For a road trip across the country

Just the four of us,

Oh what fun it would be.

It was only his dream

A bed that floated

Amidst nature

And all the beauty it had to offer

A stream of water below

Clear blue sky above

Trees to the left

Shrubs to the right

A yellow flower bed

And the sky hidden by trees

His dog by his side

This was all he needed in life

Alas he had to wake up,

In the place he called home

In the centre of the city

Far from nature, far from his dream

As I prepare for the move

Too many emotions all at once

I ask “What should I get?”

“Get an umbrella,

Oh, don’t you forget”

Said a friend

“Get an umbrella,

Better don’t forget”

Said the other

So I got two umbrellas

As I prepare for the move

A long stretch

A longer nap

Waiting for them to fetch

Any longer, I might snap

A blur image

Getting clearer by the second

Them coming to honour my lineage

Any minute now I reckon

Oh the moment of joy then comes

The bowl of fish is finally served

I stretch and sit, leaving fur on the couch

As I sniff my meal and paw at my hooman

A prompt that couldn’t be more timely
as I stay in god’s own country
streets lively as can be
oh of course, it’s the capital city!

For me though, it’s so much more
it’s my summer vacation
my only connection to the city
This is where I grew up.

From finishing my handwriting homework
to researching college’s coursework
from enrolling in drawing classes
to enrolling in driving classes,
This is where I grew up.

Every vacation,
the zoo, the beach, the museum
the temples, the malls and family friends
oh there are lists of places to visit

Different kinds of Trees everywhere
coconut trees, Banana trees,
trees that are particularly pretty
and the language, well that’s just the best

A city with so much more to it
a city whose language is just as pretty
a city I’ve lived very little in
yet, one that feels so much more like home

But as I grew, those around me grew too
as my grandparents turn old
as the walls lose their strength
my family decides it’s time to let go of the house

I must tell you before I depart
that this city with its pretty trees,
the people, their language and their culture,
continue to win the hearts of every single visitor.

One day at a weapons shop I met a man selling bricks

For money he offered some swords

But I really wanted some figs

Like others he thought I was odd,

But before the weapon shop I could leave

He said “I can help you I believe”

Bricks, Figs, you shall find

Swords, Rings you can get

You must now open your mind

And get down to St. Thor’s Market

There were stalls selling rings

Gems in many shades

There were even stalls selling wings

People here and there of different trades

Before I could open my mouth

I was greeted by a peculiar lady,

She shouted “For you I have Figs”

I couldn’t help thinking she might be quite shady.

“But how did you know?” I asked,

“Do you want them or not?” she did say.

Silently, the figs she passed.

Then vanished before I could pay.

What is it about memories

Good ones, make us laugh

Bad ones, make us reflect

Special ones, make us cry

What is it about recollection

Brings long lost friends together

Brings distant relatives closer

It’s the opposite of a disputant

There are those memories which hurt

The memory of a bad fight

The memory of close one’s death

The memory of your pet in pain

But any memory helps us grow

And in the future helps us soar

They’re just tiny little stories,

What is it about memories?

The love for biology

Started from her Mother’s stories

Of dissecting cockroaches

Of writing records

Of studying butterflies in their cucoons

Of magnifying into tiny leaves

And then came a teacher

Who multiplied this love

By showing flowers

And the rarest ferns

By teaching with passion

And loads of patience

But the sight of blood she feared

So biology from her life disappeared

Three years she missed the subject

So stories from her friend she would collect

Finally, determined to get back to her favorite subject

She decided to re-elect

The rush of learning was back

Favourite subject and favourite learner were back