Thursday, February 16, 2017

This is a continuation of poems written for Terry. We had a lot of fun writing them. 


Cluck Cluck
by Kusma Gongba
15 January 2017

I am a hen.
I give eggs.
I eat rice.
I have friends, four,
I give meat.
I am nice.
With friends that are good.
I like my friends and they like me. 
People take my eggs,
the eggs I lay and eat them. 


Pretty colors on your wall
by Pukar Gautam
16 January 2017

I am house paint.
You can paint me.
They like me in their house.
I like to be painted on houses.
I’d like to be painted on my boxing teacher’s house.
Everyone cares for me and puts me nicely on their houses.
I like babies who are always at my side, 
I am good.
I am paint.


If I were an art book 
by Abin Rai
16 January 2017

If I were an art book
People would make artwork on me
They would keep me safe in their homes 
They would make houses, animals, and flowers
on me. I am happy because they make 
wonderful artwork on me.
If they make dirty artwork on me, 
I will not like those artwork.
If a baby makes art upon me, I am happy 
because the baby gets the chance to learn art,
make good artwork,
and take care of me so they can write abc’s on me.
I get old when they make art on me,
my pages finish and they would buy a new me.


The flower
by Shaswat Badal

I am a flower. I am liked by people,
they plant me in their houses.
I don’t like to be plucked 
but they still pluck me.

When I get plucked, I may live in a vase,
I am happy always to be in a vase.
People sell me to earn money,
people smell me and feel good.

I don’t like being put on fire.
Some smell me and when my scent is gone, 
they throw me out.
I don’t like that, no, no, no.
Keep me, love me, forever.

I like to be placed in a vase.
I am a flower, I am liked by the people.
The vase is my home. People find me a nice vase.
Don't break my vase, my home kids. 
People, think I am beautiful, and buy me
for the gods, for their loves.

I am a good flower. Use me in medicine.
I am used in so many medicines and I liked to be used. 
When people are sick, they drink my essence and are glad.


The phone
by Utkrishta Mulmi

All the time, day and night,
I am tapped. It is joyful that I am useful. 
But still its hurts: everyone, tap, tap, tap.

Bought from shop when new, 
born in a factory, delivered sparkling to shop.
Bought, don't drop. I break. 
Fix me, hang me.
Little kids play games on me which I like though it hurts 
Some persons put me in smelly pockets 
in shirts or trousers, 
I HATE THAT!

Don't drop me in the toilet pot or water.
I get old, thrown into the bin.  
Take me to a repair shop instead
where the doctor treats, fixes.


Owners don't forget to charge me or I get rest and sleep 
But after being charged, I get up and work. 
Used by everyone except birds, fishes and trees,
some of my friends are big or small
sometimes thieves come into my house and kidnap me 
and some of my friends in my house including all the jewellery.


The laptop
by Nitya Poudel

Every day I am used by someone in the house
I am used by a human but not by a mouse
I was in the shop of a shopkeeper 10 years ago
I was bought by Nitya’s dad who brought me to his home
I was new when he bought me but now I look a little old
Nitya’s father does not use me but Nitya surely does
He stays with me all day and works on with me
I am really bored as at the night I have to stay in a cupboard
Nitya’s friends watch movies on me as my graphics are very nice
I am an i5 laptop which makes me really nice
My cousin is a computer who is bigger than me
Although he can’t move a lot he is better than me 
Some children are very nice they take good care of me
Some of them are really bad they try to destroy my parts
Some of them sit on me and they have really stinky farts
Some of them always keep me clean
I am used by everyone from students to the dean


Mirror
by Neeva Poudel

If I were a mirror, 
all would always see them in me. 
They see themselves, 
but I can’t see myself, what do I do?
I will find myself a mirror. 

Someone hits me in anger. I shatter. 
Take me, a more beautiful one 
with a new design on face, home. 


Boxing gloves
by Susmita Gongba

If I were a boxing glove, sweat would always get inside me 
I always hit another person’s head 
Someone know me and some don't
Other gloves hit me and that’s the reason I am injured
I am taken care of because I am needed to box by boxers.

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