Lil’ Imagination
Juicy Red Delight
I plant the,
Baby plants,
From Home Depot,
I pat down the soil,
With Motherly Love,
Getting ready,
For them,
To grow.
I plant,
The tomatoes,
The mint,
The cucumbers.
For peppers,
I have,
Jalapeño,
And World’s Hottest.
Saving the best for last,
Come the strawberries,
My soon-to-be,
Juicy red delight,
Planted with extra love.
So,
Proud of my work,
I sit back and relax until July.
In July,
I find,
Rich red tomatoes,
And large bell peppers.
I find,
Orange World’s Hottest,
And green habaneros.
I find,
Smooth green jalapeños,
Spiky cucumbers,
And leafy fresh mint.
No strawberries sprout,
Not one little bit.
A lone flower remains,
Soon to be gone.
My heart sits low,
No juicy red delight.
All eaten by the bunnies.
For the bunnies,
I feel hate,
But,
I don’t let this overwhelm me.
With this grief and hate
In my heart,
Oh, so sad I am.
I try to keep my spirits high,
Picking my tomatoes,
My other juicy red delight.
Pass Fall,
Pass Winter,
Come Spring,
I go and check on my garden.
Eureka
My strawberries have sprouted!
They have arrived!
Possibly not eaten by the bunnies!
I search,
Search about this miracle.
I find my answer.
My juicy red delight,
Comes one year late.
I scold,
Scold them for composing me
Into a trepid state,
Nevertheless,
I am delighted about my perennials.
I absolutely love,
My juicy red delight!
The True Godzilla
Screaming fills me with agony,
I step over creatures with flaming torches.
Speaking a foreign tongue to anybody but myself,
I try to apologize,
Softly,
To the miniscule creatures,
Hoping not to bring fright to their ears,
Nonetheless,
I do.
Cautiously,
I step away from the creatures,
Their screams fading,
As I enter my dwelling.
In my abode,
I sing as I cook a tree.
My song is a lonely song,
My voice waivers,
As I sing.
In my heart,
I feel distressed.
I sit down,
On my couch made of a trunk,
And place my head on my hands.
I cry.
Why must I frighten creatures?
Why must they judge me by my size?
My home begins to flood,
With salty tears.
I do not care about my home,
I want to be appreciated for who I am.
Yet,
In this day and age,
Many people judge each other by looks.
I get up,
And mop my sadness.
I finish,
And munch on my tree.
I gave up meat years ago,
I felt pain to eat another,
Whose life had been put in the dumps.
I lift my bed of leaves
That I had spent so much time putting together,
And put it on the hard, solid ground.
I throw myself down,
Resting for another day of anguish.
To Know
The seasons come and go.
The world changes before my eyes
But deep inside,
I have this throbbing want to know.
To know what it’s like in other places,
In Africa ,
Where the scorching ball of fire,
Beats down for all four seasons.
In Antarctica ,
Cold,
And filled with misery,
I want to know that heat,
I want to know that misery,
I want to go through it all.
But I have an outer shield,
That protects me from adventure,
It keeps me in my home,
Leaving the adventure,
To my imagination.
But,
I still want to know.
Gone, Forever?
This was a memoir I wrote about my grandfather's passing.
He was an old age of 83. He slowly walked, bent over his gray walker, dragging it along with him. He parked it next to his wooden chair and held onto the chair as he carefully sat down next to my brother. My grandfather, Dada, sat to eat snack with his two grandchildren. Sitting hunched over, he serenely began to eat his share of popcorn. All of a sudden, snapping out of his serene state, he exclaimed, “Ah, this popcorn is delicious!”, and took handfuls of popcorn from the bowl. My older brother and I, then in fourth and second grades, giggled childishly.
As the three of us finished our popcorn, my brother, Umang and I completed our homework, and proceeded to stare mindlessly at the TV. Dada decided to go for a warm bath. My grandmother, Baa, I don’t exactly recall what she was doing, but she must have been reading. Lastly, my mother was cooking. So that was the scene, my brother and I watching TV, Dada in the shower, Baa reading, and Mom in the kitchen.
In ten minutes, a frightening scream came from the bathroom. Dada was calling Baa. She ‘waddled’ to the bathroom. “What?” There wasn’t an answer. She complained that he was uselessly calling her over. Umang went to see what was wrong. He called, and with no response following, he sensed urgency in the situation, and called my mother. She went, and opened the door, to find dear Dada hunched over in the same position he was in earlier that day.
Meanwhile, Baa stood there loudly questioning the situation. I was commanded to bring her over to the couch where the drone of the lifeless TV was there but ignored. I peeked in the bathroom and saw my favorite person in the whole world, irresponsive. I slowly walked to the couch holding back tears, until we sat down, and I threw my head on Baa’s shoulder, and sobbed. Umang anxiously called 911 and my father.
In a matter of minutes, a policeman arrived with an oxygen machine. He put Dada on it, and soon the paramedics arrived. As they rolled him out I got my last glimpse of Dada. My father arrived just as the ambulance was pulling out. He threw open his door and jumped into the ambulance. I watched it drive away, behind glistening eyes.
Mom left for the hospital, and Umang, Baa and I ate the tasteless dinner in silence. I then went straight upstairs to bed.
On my bed, I lay thinking. I zoomed back in time, thinking about all the great times I had with Dada. How he sang to me every night, how he put his hand on my head, lulling me to sleep with the feeling of protection and safety. That might all disappear from me, and leave me forever. And indeed, two days later, he was gone. Gone forever.
As the three of us finished our popcorn, my brother, Umang and I completed our homework, and proceeded to stare mindlessly at the TV. Dada decided to go for a warm bath. My grandmother, Baa, I don’t exactly recall what she was doing, but she must have been reading. Lastly, my mother was cooking. So that was the scene, my brother and I watching TV, Dada in the shower, Baa reading, and Mom in the kitchen.
In ten minutes, a frightening scream came from the bathroom. Dada was calling Baa. She ‘waddled’ to the bathroom. “What?” There wasn’t an answer. She complained that he was uselessly calling her over. Umang went to see what was wrong. He called, and with no response following, he sensed urgency in the situation, and called my mother. She went, and opened the door, to find dear Dada hunched over in the same position he was in earlier that day.
Meanwhile, Baa stood there loudly questioning the situation. I was commanded to bring her over to the couch where the drone of the lifeless TV was there but ignored. I peeked in the bathroom and saw my favorite person in the whole world, irresponsive. I slowly walked to the couch holding back tears, until we sat down, and I threw my head on Baa’s shoulder, and sobbed. Umang anxiously called 911 and my father.
In a matter of minutes, a policeman arrived with an oxygen machine. He put Dada on it, and soon the paramedics arrived. As they rolled him out I got my last glimpse of Dada. My father arrived just as the ambulance was pulling out. He threw open his door and jumped into the ambulance. I watched it drive away, behind glistening eyes.
Mom left for the hospital, and Umang, Baa and I ate the tasteless dinner in silence. I then went straight upstairs to bed.
On my bed, I lay thinking. I zoomed back in time, thinking about all the great times I had with Dada. How he sang to me every night, how he put his hand on my head, lulling me to sleep with the feeling of protection and safety. That might all disappear from me, and leave me forever. And indeed, two days later, he was gone. Gone forever.
