April 1, 2006

Believe in me
When dark and lonely is the night,
And to lead you there is no light,
Come to me and we will work out a way,
We’ll get back, no matter how far away
When your close ones let you down,
Just don’t stand there and frown,
There is no need to pout,

Even in a perfect judgement, there is always doubt.
When you want to express your joy, when you want to smile,
But can’t find anyone, to share it with, for miles,
Come to me and I’ll tell you a way,
Together we can stand and fight for our say.
When you have a problem, just come to me,
For I just want you to know and see,
That you can always believe in Me.
Hira Imtiaz,
17 years, Lahore

Friendship
So we are friends, or are we not?
So I guess it right! That you forgot,
But let me remind you, of things we did,
Little by little which you loved to forbid,
Years ago, you met me on a street,
Clutching a red handbag, which you loved to defeat,
We kept meeting each other, with our fingers crossed,
Hoping that there never came a day,
Where we will stop,
Meeting each other not privately nor today,
With a hope behind us,
To carry on our friendship like this today,
But you didn’t seen to care, when I met you again,
You just ran away saying I loathe being your friend,
I stood there puzzled and shocked,
Thinking what terrible thing must’ve set us apart
For you to make me horribly lost?
I went back to you, for which you didn’t care,
You rolled your tearful eyes saying don’t come near!
I muttered a word of apology and felt
That you didn’t forget, when you called back
And forgetting that you betrayed me
I continued on with our friendship
For the sake of our deeds
Verda Ghori,
14 years, Karachi

A sculptor
A sculptor creates many sculptures.
Paints with love these pictures.
He always makes others statues,
Many a times gets good views.
But sometimes he work as scamp.
In the little light of lamp.
When he works as scamp.
He scrambles his created paragons.
And these monuments were never again born.
He always speaks of iconography.
And becomes an iconolater.
Why a sculptor cannot create one figure.
That picture is always ignored.
And that is his own face and features.
Surhaan Wafai,
Hyderabad

My shoes
As I took off my shoes,
And saw my sweating toes
A wonderful scent came from my foot,
Any one would like to faint, they certainly would!
No one can stay, alive in this smell,
Why no one likes it I can’t tell.
Hafsa Danyal,
12 years, Karachi