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Poem For Poetry Recitation

POEM FOR POETRY RECITATION

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59 views

Poem For Poetry Recitation

POEM FOR POETRY RECITATION

Uploaded by

Nor
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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The River

The River's a wanderer,


A nomad, a tramp,
He doesn't choose one place
To set up his camp.

The River's a winder,


Through valley and hill
He twists and he turns,
He just cannot be still.

The River's a hoarder,


And he buries down deep
Those little treasures
That he wants to keep.

The River's a baby,


He gurgles and hums,
And sounds like he's happily
Sucking his thumbs.

The River's a singer,


As he dances along,
The countryside echoes
The notes of his song.

The River's a monster


Hungry and vexed,
He's gobbled up trees
And he'll swallow you next.
Mr. Nobody

I know a funny little man,


As quiet as a mouse,
Who does the mischief that is done
In everybody's house!
There's no one ever sees his face,
And yet we all agree
That every plate we break was cracked
By Mr. Nobody.

`Tis he who always tears our books,


Who leaves the door ajar,
He pulls the buttons from our shirts,
And scatters pine afar;
That squeaking door will always squeak,
For, prithee, don't you see,
We leave the oiling to be done
By Mr. Nobody
He pits damp wood upon the fire,
That kettles cannot boil;
His are the feet that bring in mud,
And all the carpets soil.
The papers always are mislaid,
Who had them last but he?
There's no one tosses them about
But Mr. Nobody.

The finger marked upon the door


By none of us are made;
We never leave the blind unclosed,
To let the curtains fade.
The ink we never spill; the boots
That lying round you see
Are not our boots they all belong
To Mr. Nobody.

I Wonder

I wonder why the grass is green,


And why the wind is never seen?

Who taught the birds to build a nest,


And told the trees to take a rest?

O, when the moon is not quite round,


Where can the missing bit be found?

Who lights the stars, when they blow out,


And makes the lightning flash about?

Who paints the rainbow in the sky.


And hangs the fluffy clouds so high?

Why is it now, do you suppose,


That Dad won't tell me, if he knows?
Heir Conditioning

Grand dad did you breathe


Before air cons were invented
Was it hard staying
Alive without modern inventions?
Grandma weren’t you flustered
As you fluttered with paper fans?
Could you communicate before
Faxes and long distance calls
Became basic necessities?

Picture
Grandchild we lived
Before your age. Because
Of our ignorance,
We did not know
Pollution, stress, traffic jams
Destruction of forests, streams and
Hills
We feared God and nature
Now nature fears you and
Money is your new God.
A Fighter's Line

I am old and worn


And have lost all my strength
Sufferings
And the history of the fight for independence
Have forced sacrifices
That know no name
Or life

From the wheelchair of the rest of my days


I, body and energy crushed
See and cannot do much
These times are too big a challenge
For the remnants of my crippled years
The net of deceit spread everywhere
Disturbs me

In the name of justice


Wake up and form ranks sons of our ancestor
Be brave
And erect a wall of people
Stand up heirs of our freedom

I have no more voice


It is you now who should speak!
Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,


We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs


And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,


Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,


Streams full of stars, like stars at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,


And watch her feet, how they can dance

No time to wait till her mouth


Enrich that smile her eyes

A poor life this is if, full of care,


We have no time to stand and stare.

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