The Monologues Poem by Tarun Ram Kanuri

The Monologues
I think a lot and lot at my house
To give prolonged monologues in my class.
I want to be famous in my school.
And want my juniors to say that I'm cool.

I want to show them that I have good grip in the language.
And there's nothing that I can't manage.
In front of a mirror, I give a great pose
To go to school and then I wear my shoes.

As I enter the class,
All I have are hopes that I loss.
All I end up with were the words that were crabbed.
To the jokes that my futile friends cracked.

I, at that moment, want to shout and yell.
'Why do you want to interrupt in the middle? '
But I won't; I stand there still like a dove.
This is not because of friendship or love.

Because, sometimes, when he try to say something,
I do start my jokes and start cracking.
What I did to him is equivalent to what he did to me.
I do believe in 'right to speak'; Everyone is free.

Now I remember how I have posed.
All my hopes are, now, ceased.
Then comes our teacher
She is the luckiest creature.

When she starts speaking,
It's seems to me that she is not stopping.
It's seems to me that her monologue is forever.
No, whatever may be, she is not stopping-never.

With the eyes open, some of my friends sleeps.
Like deadly zombies that creeps.
Still, the teacher don't close her mouth.
That's way she is so famous, insooth.