Friday, May 6, 2011

These Long Eleven Months Of Mine



So...
My 2011 summer vacation is coming to an end.
Now there are eleven months of school to dread.

Eleven months with those of my own age,
whom I fail to comprehend.
Eleven months to make impressions.
And thousand chances to break them.


Eleven months to feel the happiness,
of reaching home after school.
Eleven months to hope,
That summer will come soon.

These eleven months,
I ask this to those above
Make my life go slower,
my time is running out.

As I come of age, I feel my life leaving
those times of pure innocence;
those times of sweet believing.

I ask for good teachers
And pages that don't tear.
I have the good times to enjoy
And the hardships to bear.

I have these eleven months of past to write,
In my flowing blue ink,
the memories in my book of life.
Neatly for reminiscing.

May my line of fate cross with thine
And let it make the new days shine.
Leave the sadness of the past behind,
And give some space for a happy time.

And to think I haven't read much poetry outside my textbooks... Living in an imaginary world for most of your time really does wonders to your literary skill. =D

Well, I hope it's satisfactory. I felt my summer coming to an end and I just wanted to share my thoughts for the school year. For my seniors and juniors, my class starts in May, so I get only one month of summer. And thus, this sad poem. I don't want summer to end. Sitting in a classroom for eleven months is not my cup of tea. o_O~\

9 comments:

Anjana Soman said...

whoaa.....
B-E-A-utiful!! :D <3

Blog Admin said...

Good poem. :) Fr. J read it and liked some lines. In fact, he read them aloud and was smiling.

"Eleven months with those of my own age,
whom I fail to comprehend
Eleven months to make impressions.
And thousand chances to break them."

I like them, too.

The he asked, "She likes being at home?"
I said, "I guess so. Her interests are different."

Then, I went back to my small corner. :)

Amita Govindraj said...

Yeah. I do like being at home.
My family doesn't stare at me as if I killed someone, when they see me. Strangers on the street do. So I like home. Simple, right?

Blog Admin said...

Well, I get the same kind of stare, you know. We are in the same boat in that way. But don't tell me you "dread" school because your classmates think you killed someone. hahahaha

Amita Govindraj said...

Nah. Not school. The streets, town-public places, in short.
In school, I don't find what the kids of my age do as 'interesting' So that's not something I look forward to as much as my peers. Then the classes...Yeah I need to attend them. They're essential for my survival so I can't complain.

Sachin P said...

Good work Amita! Keep it up.. :) Will be waiting for the next poetry! :D

Amita Govindraj said...

Heyhey. I didn't join the blog just for poetry, I want to write other stuff too. Remember my "Appointment"? I've got another item in the drafts too. (Not posted because I can't find a good picture to go with it)

Sachin P said...

hmm..! find a good pic and post it asap..! :)

Amita Govindraj said...

I've got a transfer cap and it's hard to wake up before 8 am on weekends. D: