Amalia

Karishma Gandhi of 11-E took part in the Taaleem Poetry Competition, 2014. She composed a resplendent poem  titled "Amalia" revolving around the theme 'Metamorphosis'.

Through cracked windows her form could be seen,
A skinny teenage girl scrubbing floors for money.
Hair damp in a bun, hands worn with mud,
Clothes in tatters, covered to the top with dust.
But there was a gleam in her no weather could kill,

A gleam that shone in her eyes of such professional skill.

 

The ringmaster calls, she stands upright,
The time has come, her gleam glows bright.
It engulfs her form and spreads her wings out wide,
The rush fills her veins, see her fly!
She walks out a different person,
Just for a while, her name is not her own.
With glittering eyes and hair done up,
Now she is Amalia the star of the show.
The stage her home, the audience parts of her soul.
Watch her leap to her thick supporters; the ropes.
Watch her fly in grace, what a sight!
As within her the gleam ignites,
It encompasses each being present, watching,
It shows them unadulterated, pure raw feeling.

The beat drops at its point,
Dead silence descends as she falls from up high,
See her glide among the colored swirls,
Weightless and fluid as she swings and curves,
Watch her passion flowing through the ropes,
Mesmerizing and Enchanting with every twist and turn.
Now she lands once again.
Folding her wings, taking in the fame,
Marking her place in beating hearts,
As Amalia, the Queen of  Circus Dance.

 

The judge's critique of Karishma's poem were as follows;

 

"Karishma’s poem contains a lovely story, well told. The theme of metamorphosis is well supported in the two completely different ‘lives’ of Amalia. Our first vision of the ‘skinny teenage girl scrubbing floors’ evokes sympathy, and then the direct voice to the reader to ‘see her fly’ and ‘watch her leap!’ commands our attention and respect as we see the freedom, grace and beauty of the performer.

 

The long first stanza mirrors the tension and pace of the action. Then the break and the ambiguity of ‘dead silence descends as she falls from up high’ suggests a possible disaster or return to her old life/reality followed by the relief as she lands safely, the ‘Queen of Circus Dance’.

 

There is a great deal of merit in this poem, Karishma. The more I read it, the more I like it. Well done"

 

The Mist

Tania Aravind of 11-E personifies an atmospheric element in her poem, "The Mist"...

It was amongst leaves whispering

That I took in the image of her fearful being

She glowered down at me and I felt my knees

Violently shake like waves crashing down on the still sea

 

Many a time I tried crossing paths with her

But hurriedly paced back for she was my fear

Many a time I beat my fist against my breast

For I kept failing my one test

 

One day I steeled my nerves

And stood before my life's curse

I intended to face her now

Stand straight and tall until before me she'd bow

 

I glared into her fearful face

And went right through her while myself I did brace

Stopped in surprise when I noted that she didn't resist

And then smiled for I realized that she was the mist.

 

 

An Alternate Version Of 'Missed' By P.G Wodehouse

  Here's a grim version of P.G. Wodehouse's light hearted poem 'Missed' penned by Vinaya Mary Prinse of grade 12-A.

You can view the original version by clicking the link below...

http://allpoetry.com/poem/8573249-Missed-by-P-G-Wodehouse

 

 

The clouds in the heavens were despondent

The air bore a stench of compost

My flannels were soiled and grimy

My heart was sorrowful and frustrated

The ladies, all heavily dressed,

Sat round looking on at ‘the match’,

In the tree tops, the birds chanted

‘You will be the victim of a star-crossed Friday’

 

My disruption the ill fated Friday

Had enticed me from the game- which was erroneous

The bee (that infuriating chronic hummer)

Was buzzing a chant

‘You will be the victim of a star-crossed Friday’

I was cursing that doomed day

When, ah, horror! There soared through the air an

Unbelievably possible catch

 

I heard in a stupor the bowler

Emit a self satisfied ‘Ah!’

The little boys who sat on the roller

Set up an expectant ‘Hurrah!’

The batsman with anguish from the wicket

Himself had begun to detach-

And I whimpered and moaned.

My life was over!

I had missed the easiest catch

I became the victim of a star-crossed Friday

 

O, ne’er, if I live to a million,

Shall I feel such a terrible pang

By the handful my hair

I tore with a wrench from my thatch

And my heart came to a halt

At the contemplation that I had missed that cursed catch

 

Ah, the bowler’s low, querulous mutter

Points loud, sorrowful day!

Oh, what a grave transgression!

My life is forlorn! My future will be dejected!

There is no reason for my very existence

I became the victim of a star-crossed Friday

I had missed the easiest catch!

 

Eshley's Headaches

Savia Rodrigues of 11 A modifies the story 'The Stalled Ox' by changing the nature of relationship between Theophil Eshley and Adela Pingsford...

　

　

Thirty-eight year old Theophil Eshley placed his head firmly on his hands. The man, employed as the President of the Art Department of the London National Museum, was soaring financially. However, the only thing soaring at the moment was an upcoming migraine. Not only was he missing his precious Penelope’s Inter School Meet (she was an athletic prodigy, after all), but his wife, Adie, had been in a sour mood all morning. Eshley had also received news that a fine piece of art, worth ₤500,000, had been stolen the previous afternoon. To add to the ever growing list, he had burnt his toast that morning, too. The assistant brought in his third coffee of the day – creamy, with two cubes of sugar and a pinch of salt, just the way his mum made it.

Poor kid, thought Eshley, as he saw the assistant scuttering around, probing through various files. However, the feeling of pity was soon swept away but yet another wave of cephalalgia. He remembered the last time he had suffered such splitting head-aches.

　Contrary to popular belief, school days had decisively been the worst days for Eshley. With freckles, a toothy grin, and an awkward personality to boot, thirteen year old Theophil had been the Aunt Sally of his school. Even though he had academically been an over-achiever, his social status had not exactly been at the top of the charts. Furthermore, his unruly red hair and significantly large feet (which he had now grown into), had been subjects of great ridicule. His small stature also served as a strong bully magnet. Samuel "Sammy" Johnson was a tall, thick-set fifteen year old with unkempt blond hair and brown eyes. A significant chunk of the student body eschewed him, but none abhorred him as much as Theophil did. In his eyes, Samuel was a perfectly wrapped package sent straight from Your Nightmares Come True™. Badgering Theo into doing his homework for him seemed to be his favourite pastime. Samuel had a way of making Theo feel like scum, like there was no other form of life as inferior as Theo himself. Theophil had contemplated notifying the matter to his parents, but had then decided against it. He had known that his parents would have reported it to the institution’s zenithal authorities, and before long, everyone in school would have known what a namby-pamby he was. Theophil’s evenings always consisted of an entrée of excruciating, mind-numbing headaches, with the fear of Samuel-related nightmares for dessert.

　

The only ray of sunshine in his school life had been Adela Julianne Pingsford. Her acerbic humour had attracted him to her from the very beginning. Her incandescent auburn hair and blazing cerulean eyes never failed to turn heads, and were the center of attention wherever she went. Eshley also remembered the day they got married. What a cheerful day it had been! Now, was it on the 14th or the 16th of June?

　

　

Eshley’s trail of thoughts came to a screeching halt. Of course, he thought, the 15th of June, their wedding anniversary. Unfortunately for Eshley, that day just happened to be today. No wonder Adie had been so indignant this morning. He had to concoct something ingenious, or she would wring his head like a chicken the moment he stepped into the house. Well, a nice dinner would be charming, thought Eshley. He immediately paged his assistant to make reservations for two in that extravagant Turkish restaurant just round the corner.

　

"Oh, and Sammy, a steaming mug of coffee would be nice. How about a full cream –"

"– with two cubes of sugar, and a pinch of salt", replied the all-too-familiar voice.