"roselle" poems
I miss the old times
Where everything was all good
Playing around and running the streets
It didn't matter that we were in the hood
I remember the old days
Where our cousins were around the corner
Having hang-outs and sleepovers
We even walked to school together
What about the old places
Like Jefferson and Roselle Park
Where our uncle was there watching us
Having fun and pouring out our hearts
I miss the old fun
Walking to the corner store
Where the candy was only a penny
And 25 cent for a huge popcycle
I miss the old times
When an Ice Cream cone was a dollar
And 25 cent for the sprinkles
Those little things made our hearts sparkle
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 12:01 PM UTC
A school in a village without any pastel –
Divine Child which never cares for riel
Strives for excellence. Does propel
The children upwards and rebel
Against injustice gigantic or sea shell;
Strives to let its stars and carvings excel
With the artistic hands of its roselle.
All play ups and disobeys did she quell
For all discourteous and insolent is knell.
Insurgencies and Illiteracy repel
As soon as they hear Divine’s yell.
She made IAS, engineer and Laurel
Who are shining brightly in parallel.
The capacity to write is more in noel
As during Christmas less is evil’s spell
And more golly and blimey impel.
She is still like a nice damoiselle
Not touched by corruption or rebel.
This is pond. In it many a Raphael
Have drowned to break a cell
From which brains emerged like sail
Which drove young minds to foretell
Their future. With Anandi ma’am’s spell
She still does prosper, flourish and excel.
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 11:03 PM UTC