Words Worth A Thousand Pictures!


If You Feel Down And Under…

she’ll tell you – she knows the trick!


I’ve shown conidence lots

in this grade. Evrey time I think

something is hard I try

to belive in my self and

it becomes so much


                           – Anila (8 years)

Don’t know what’s the cat doing in there!




The First Story Of Undying Romance





Source: Web

The Girl Who Can Do Everything…Almost


Well, a lot of it, quite beyond me in three score and eight years I’ve seen yet!

This delightful piece is from Aditi Krishnan (11), quite appropriate for International Women’s Day.

Here we go:

girl Caricatura-de-una-chica-soriendo-300px


Past the stars, and through the galaxy lies a planet called Flurp

And on this planet, there lives a very special girl, named Kurp


Now Kurp is a very special girl, for what you can think, she can do

And what you can do, she can too, but much better than you!


She can wiggle her nose and touch her toes

And count how far? Who knows?


She’ll win any game, has amazing aim,

She can perfectly hang a frame


She can touch the sky, she can twitch her eye

She can even fly! Who knows how high!


She can blow a balloon, she’ll bend a spoon

She can even play the bassoon!


Although there is one thing, Kurp just cannot do

She asks, ” How, oh how, do you tie a shoe?”


“You take the laces and tie a knot”

“Which lace? What knot? I think it got caught!”


“I can never do it! I will never do it!”

“Definitely not, just not if you quit”


“No! I will quit! You shall watch me!”

 “But that will not help, you see?”


“So… if I try and try, and try once more…”

“And I keep trying until my arms are sore…”


“Then I will be able to do a whole lot!!!”

“Ok, so you take the laces and tie a knot…”


“And make the loops, and tie them too!”

“I did it! I did it! There’s nothing I can’t do!”


“I can….. win any race, I can dance through space,”

“And now I can tie my shoe lace!”


“I can fix any leak, I can hop through a creek,”

“And I’m amazing at hide-and seek!”


“I can beautifully sing, jump high as a spring,”

“I can do anything!”






Source: openclipart (knollbaco)


A Minister Visits His Village

crowd gonomad.com

The incongruous mansion was abuzz with people.

For, whatever happened was quite unthinkable.

Ever since he heard of it, he was quite agitated.

Citizens’ assets, at any cost, must be protected.


He did not much trust his locals to repair,

so, came straight down in person to take care.

On arrival he set about cracking his whip:

The theft must be solved before sundown.

he roared – till then he wouldn’t partake a sip

of water – so they raided sparing no village or town.


By noon he sat down for a sumptuous lunch,

grinning more than a cat proud with its catch -.

efficient law men in a trice had the theft undone

though  thieves rounded up somehow were none.

It mattered little now – the buffaloes were restored

back to the owner – the minister, for all he cared.


Law rightly upheld, now justice was due

to butter chicken, dal makhani, roti’s…phew.

A blissful siesta and he was ready for lok darbar.

To air their grievances villagers from near and far

came – it was all about stray dogs, water and power,

leaky class-rooms, broken benches and no doctor.

All deftly handled – he gave away nothing,

copious note diligently made for safe filing.


There was this bunch that came in at the end,

eyes down, tongue tied and shuffling around.

Words came out with fear in their tremulous voice:

“They stole our buffaloes this morning…the police.”




PS: lok darbar is a public forum.

Source: Image from gonomad.com

A Modest Rejoinder


A supercilious nabob of the East–

Haughty, being great–purse-proud, being rich–

A governor, or general, at the least,

I have forgotten which–

Had in his family a humble youth,

Who went from England in his patron’s suite,

An unassuming boy, and in truth

A lad of decent parts, and good repute.


This youth had sense and spirit;

But yet, with all his sense,

Excessive diffidence

Obscured his merit.


One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine,

His honor, proudly free, severely merry,

Conceived it would be vastly fine

To crack a joke upon his secretary.


“Young man,” he said, “by what art, craft, or trade,

Did your good father gain a livelihood?”–

“He was a saddler, sir,” Modestus said,

“And in his time was reckoned good.”


“A saddler, eh! and taught you Greek,

Instead of teaching you to sew!

Pray, why did not your father make

A saddler, sir, of you?”


Each parasite, then, as in duty bound,

The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.

At length Modestus, bowing low,

Said (craving pardon, if too free he made),

“Sir, by your leave, I fain would know

Your father’s trade!”

Young Man

“My father’s trade! Bless me, that’s too bad!

My father’s trade? Why, blockhead, are you mad?

My father, sir, did never stoop so low–

He was a gentleman, I’d have you know.”


“Excuse the liberty I take,”

Modestus said, with archness on his brow,

“Pray, why did not your father make

A gentleman of you?”




Author: Anonymous, More at http://www.poetry-archive.com

Images from publicdomainvectors.org and ocw.ksu.edu.tw

Life at Sixty Five Plus


What if I’m a little short of breath,
with a mouthful of missing teeth?
For, three score and five laps I’ve run,
without a puff or pant, around the Sun.

While the busy world nods indulgently,
I do just as I please quite really.
I get away with it most oftenly,
chuckling to myself quite innardly.

Prim and proper, is tyranny.
Conformance is pure baloney.
Some are shocked, some embarrassed,
but it’s never me that’s unduly bothered.

All days are weekends, no Monday blues.
No deadlines nor powerpoint slides.
Well, customers don’t rise to the bait?
I am not anymore losing my sleep over it.

At home, when served the dinner,
I slurp on the soup loud and clear,
I scratch myself where it itches,
And clear my throat when it feels.

The wife of many years takes on motherly hues.
Now she lets me have her…er…my ways.
Endless cups of coffee around,
books to read piled up in a mound.

No daughter coming home late,
nor a son sweating out for a break.
No screaming, swearing or sulking,
A reign of peace so becalming.

No two thoughts, when I go out in the evening –
a shirt could have a frayed collar and a button missing.
A cuff rolled up there and here a cuff rolled down,
a shocking green goes very well with a light brown.

At the bank the surly clerk is all polite
returning my check for signing it right.
That’s the friendly pharmacist calling out
after me for his payment no doubt.

I hand out a hundred rupee note
for a twelve –rupee ride to the Fort.
I get my ticket and change back without a fuss.
Someone gives up for me his seat on the bus.

I butt into conversation, no one objects.
Make statements on any subject, no one argues.
I choose to hear now and I hear not now.
So convenient, you can’t imagine how.

I wish perfect strangers in the park,
and accost with candies children in my walk.
I make friends with the pigeon on the ledge,
and watch the buds open up on the hedge.

It’s surely fun to be at sixty five plus, I found.
‘Gone soft in the head,’ they discount.
After living long years to pleasing them all,
doing just what I please, I’m having a ball.


(a rerun from end 2011)

Credits: Image from dreamstime.com