Siddhant Sharma

India is the land of democracy,
Not the land of autocracy,
But autocracy is still there,
Law is not believed where.
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God is the head of all authorities,
God can give all sorts of priorities.
He is so much powered,
That He can make a brave from a coward.
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“Rain will come, but when? When? ”
Said Ravi Singh to his farmer men.
It was already July summer,
But the rains did not even mummer.
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Childhood is the worthiest gold,
In a treasury which is quite old.
When the mind thinks of those times,
When we sang sweet small rhymes.
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Life is a circle.
I still remember my last maths’ practical,
My roll number was twenty two.
Chaos prevailed, The students who
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A lively sunrise wakes us
In the morning, drying the crying grass
Bringing new hopes for the world.
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Day in and day out,
Do I watch out,
For parrots and crows,
And all their woes.
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On the way to canteen, I saw
A bunch of gardeners very keen
At plucking flowers. I observed
Them closely.
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The home soil has its smell
About it I am going to tell
It’s the land of which I am native.
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Life is like a train,
Moving from lane to lane,
In search of a destination- God.
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Teachers are the path to knowledge,
They help us in school or college.
Life needs them very much.
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Sitting in his large house, Raman told Ravi
“Luck is never with me,
And when Luck is against me,
I lose every opportunity.”
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A teen tore a page and made a plane.
Then threw it out of the window pane
Knowing that it is wastage of trees.
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Yesterday I saw my neighbour fell down
Cursing men, experiencing sorrow
He couldn’t steal any moment for himself
Nor could he borrow.
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The sky was overcast; the rains were on their way.
The horses neighed and the men said,
“Oh God, do not delay the rain anymore,
The plants are drying, and the cattle are dying
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Sun was setting in the west,
The view was a nice one,
The waning effect of the sun
Was cool not a sharp one.
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I woke up.
It was a dreary night.
Strange dreams chased me.
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