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POETS’ CORNER
Cold weather
Under the dark blue sky
Everything starts to fly
Leaves and trees
Dance with the bees
But when the lilies bloom
No one’s mood is gloomy
People with their shawls
Go to shopping malls
To buy some sweaters
Made up of leather
Because they feel cold
And want to be as pure as gold
The stars shine
Above the cool and dark mines
Enjoy the cold weather
With your shawl and sweater.
Areeba Raffat
10 years, Karachi
Mice
I have a mice
He is so nice
He likes to eat cheese
And get afraid from bees
His colour is brown
He likes to move round and round.
Jon Abbas
8 years
Tears
Tears, like rain from the sky,
They fall, and fall, but no one knows why,
But they drain out the bad,
And wipe out the sad,
But know one knows how or why?
Hafsa Aamir
10 years, Karachi
My saddest hour
My saddest hour, which comes again and again,
Every time it strikes with a severe pain.
The heart with hopes is no more alive;
The soul and the spirit already destroyed.
From the age to fly with freedom and joy,
Perhaps till, the soul leaves me alone,
The fragile heart whispers, that life is pain;
And so I believe, death is relief.
Success is defeated,
Aims are disturbed,
“My hands are useless!”
My soul declared.
Crystals in the eyes are vivid now,
Thoughts of agony kill the heart,
The hour of pain leaving to come again,
My saddest hour which comes again and again.
Ayesha Farid
15 years, Karachi
The power
The power that I have
Will be only used
For the benefits of those,
Who deserve it
For the people who are waiting
For the night when they will sleep,
With their stomach’s full.
I have the power to raise my voice,
For the people who are Pakistanis
They are our brothers
We all are one soul
Sharing the same emotions
For our beloved Pakistan.
We have the power to respect those,
The labourers, farmers and soldiers
The true lovers of Pakistan.
The blind, who still love Pakistan
Which they have never seen.
We all have the power to guide them.
To teach them about our beautiful country.
The power that every one had
Can change Pakistan into a developed nation.
Syeda Ummul Baneen Fatima Naqvi
14 years, Karachi.
Test
A sudden desire to hide,
From the greatest tide,
A tide of studies known as ‘test’
For the students it’s like a pest,
All we have to do is study all day,
We don’t even get to play,
In physics we have to learn countless formulae,
And units such as ampere and candula,
If the test is of history,
The study is life solving a mystery,
None of the other subjects are easy,
A test can’t be taken if one is lazy,
So prepare yourself earlier,
Or you’ll fail and feel sorry the whole year!
Komal Asim Qidwai
11 years, Karachi
My maths test
Today it’s my lengthy maths test
My mother wished me all the best
I studied all day and all night
And practiced the sums without light
I did the work without eating anything
My father needs to tell me something
Maths is a mystery
But not chemistry
Number lines and fractions
Decimals and divisions
It’s totally a mental attack to students
In a few minutes there would be rodents
Students can bear it.
But teachers could dare it
Maths is a tension.
Which I cannot mention.
Rumaysa Shabbir
10 years, Lahore
World which we create!
The world of ocean, the world of seas
The world of crime, the world of ease.
The world we live in is therefore
One which has past and one which is fore
This world is polluted by such attitudes
Arrogance, pride, bribery & other attributes
This world is full of all bad practices
Because of which life is leading to many crisis
But there is another world which we create.
Filled with love and deprived of hate
Linked with amorous and without any fear
And thus it must be crystal clear.
Noorish Zia
14 years, Wah Cantt.
Moon and rain
It’s the time for day,
Or it’s the time for night to pay,
It’s the time for moon,
Or it’s the time for sun to come soon,
Is there dark,
Or there is lightness still in the park,
Is it raining?
Or the cloud’s leg is paining,
It’s always hot,
When the clouds are not brought,
I think the sun always chats,
How the clouds become so fat,
And all the clouds think,
How the shiny brightness of the sun blinks,
In winter the children play with the soft snow,
And stay on their bed with fluffy pillows,
It’s all about nature,
And its name is weather.
Abdul Basit
11 years, Karachi
The secret
I had a secret about a box,
In it was a baby fox,
I kept it under my bed,
When I looked down I banged my head,
I told the secret to my mother,
But not to any other,
The secret I never exposed,
And asked my mother to hold.
Komal Asim Qidwai
11 years, Karachi
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