My room

My room is a spectacle of confusion I have been told .
It's untidiness I feel has always been bold .
Clothes are lying on the bed , in a pell mell ,
My school bag ensured that in the morning my mother fell .
The study table is cluttered , with pens , pencils , erasers and textbooks .
and ironically you don't know , where for a pen you should look .
Most visible surfaces are coated with dust .
But no matter what , disorganisation is a must .
You may say why ?
And i'll tell you why .
Because in it's untidiness , I feel at home .
I don't want it to have the beauty of Rome .
My room is my temple , my safe haven .
only when it symbolises my mood , It feels like heaven .
On a gloomy day ,
I look at my sisters scirbbles and the gloom goes away .
When my anger is at it's height ,
all my belongings throw I might .
My room gives me the freedom to 'wear' my mood .
Over life , in my save haven often do i brood .
And once I am in , my life is good .

From a seed to a tree

A child is like a seed , I must say ,
who slowly sprouts into a sapling , and becomes a tree one day .
If this little tree has to sprout ,
it should be given heat , water and soil .
If it has to be a sturdy tree,
very hard must a gardener toil .

Never on this little sapling should you trample .
Ensure that it gets the light of education ample .
The manure of good values should be mixed in the soil ,
or else , all your efforts willl foil .
Give it all your love , sing it an occasional song .
Then will you see , in sometime , a sapling strong .

Give it the time to grow ,
and to protect it from evil take a vow .
But let it brave sometime , a storm or a shower of rain .
Or else how will the required strength it gain?

In the years to come as it grows old ,
on it's soil does it have a stonger hold .
Lesser and lesser would it nees your care ,
and suddenly ! One fine day in awe you'll stare .
That little , delicate sapling you planted long ago ,
had branched into a sturdy tree .
Giving it's protective shade to all , sharing it's gifts with humanity .

Into the Greens of District Park

As I walk into the greens of District Park ,
all around me is tranquility stark .
On a branch of a tree , sweetly does sing a lark .
Small blossoms of daisies do the forest floor mark .

As I walk along that ribbon of a trail ,
toward a sea of green do I seem to sail .
All around me are trees , whose leaves are delicately green without a fail .
Occasionally may one see , a monkey's long tail .

Here and there do delicate , colourful flowers bloom .
Watching them fills me with happiness such that I forget all gloom .
Being in those rare places , where humans don't nature groom ,
makes me feel blissful , unlike the claustrophobic concrete room .

The air is so clean , fresh and pure .
The wish of wanting to live here , undisturbed is sure .
But alas ! Does the power of time ensure ,
and towards the park's manicured lawns does it lure .

To leave nature's bounty , hesitant be I may .
But those few moments among the wilderness , are my best I must say .
To regain my peace of mind do I go each day .
After that little period of solitude and bliss , to reality do i find my way .