Diary of a Bookworm

Sneaking over Holmes’ shoulder

I silently munch into words,

And crawl onto the book holder

Riding on the Chariot of Gods;

Defeating Jules Verne I go round the world safe and sound

In mere a week and reach the Baskerville’s hound.

The ‘Famous Five’ and ‘Secret Seven’ make the best of my friend

Dozing off against Shakespeare I meet my day’s end.

But my Tuesdays are no usual as I spend my time with Morrie

And have my bit of lunch with Anne in the War’s red glory,

Then I board the Train to Pakistan

And peep into a Brief History of Time as I learn

The secrets of Narnia and its magic;

The tales of Oliver Twist makes me pale and sick.

The Diary of a Wimpy kid amuses me the most

As I spend my leisure on Monte Cristo’s coast.

I am a captive on a land

Of print on paper in my hand,

But do not be bothered, do not fear

‘coz I am a blissful captive here.

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Perfect, Not Perfect

Behind closed doors when the curtain closes, Too many voices screaming through A few rooms extend to that of a million losses All they are obsessed with what was never true; Stumbling back falling in the globe of fake smiles Every bit so damn perfect ,never fails to leave cue, Expectations running ahead a million miles Leaving to deal with a state of Black and Blue! Falling back again ,pretending what we never saw Still making alive through thick and thin Invisible scratches on the pale skin, they like to draw Hiding away from the world, away in the ripped jean. Perfect ,ever been so damn perfect Now it's scary to be the odd one out; Just like the fortune cookies burned beyond baked Never gets old what the fuss is all 'bout! That distant world of constant criticism All they do is judge at the first sight Breaking up the bars of the good old prison Who ever returned unstained from such a fight? An unhappy generation with happy pictures Ashamed of a broken heart h...

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Lone Light

Lost in the city of star Found the lone glory of the Moon. Away you took your breath at noon, To play in that grave where you are. Often you have me for the walk, Looking in old grass with your feet; Come on the good clear summer street Lest you could hear an earnest knock! Never you had to break the tale, Nor could I choose to measure the time Neither too close! no sad night-time Around me, lies an old black trail. Wild wanderer, from my past night, Never a star with snow and mist. A light from which I stood a fist Across the blizzard and past the fight. The sun was gold. The snow too gray, Pale as a cloud the morning met; Eyes like a full day in the net, Making all sweet part of this day. View us on Youtube: Shreya's Poetry Also Check out: Miss Ya

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