My name is Shaheryar Chishty, I live in Sheffield and I am twelve years old, I am very passionate for my poetry. My favourite time of year is December, my reason for this is that the most splendour bird is often seen at this time of year, the king fisher. It manifests its pallet of harlequin colours however it is very difficult to catch a glimpse of it because of it’s speed.

My most treasured wild life moment was when a blue mopho sat on me shining it most glistening wings at the butterfly park. When I am older I plan to be a neurosurgeon however I would like to do poetry as a hobby. My inspiration for my poetry comes from my father’s photography. My father’s art and my lyrics work together so well. For the coming season you should look out for some exquisite birds like the jay.

One of the best places to go when you’re feeling stressed is the botanical garden, the reason for this is that the area has tranquil ambiance and you may enjoy your verdant surroundings. My technique for writing poetry is to look at the subject I intend to write about, if any ideas or phrases come to my mind I note them down in my book, if I rearrange the words they end up as a poem.

Sweet Robin

I like to frolic

I like to leap

To sing melodiously in the trees

In the autumn I look for worms

I perpetuate my journey in the sky

Looking for different meals

So my family can try

I attract many birds

Due to my pulchritude

My brown marble eyes

My breast is dipped In bronze

Escaping from the commotion of the claret sky

I rest on the apple tree, and watch people go by

 


The blue morpho  

I live a life of mirth  

Fluttering, coming to rest on my verdant bed 

My life is very short 

Only a few weeks  

But my wings lie 

Inflating like bellows, taking a deep breath  

I live my time to the fullest  

Feeding on saccharine vivers  

Making my satin wings coruscate  

I clap through the air  

Putting a magic enchantment on my lovers  

To stop and glance at my lustrous colors  

I wear a burnt sleeve on my wings  

I rest my wings  

A silky brown closed book 

Until I take off again 

I open this book and display the iridescent pages 

A shade of indigo  

A flickering light  

I charm the flowers with all my might. 


The life of the rocks 

In the babbling  

Brawling  

Bubbling stream 

Rocks sit together  

Blanketing themselves  

In a viridescent green 

The lemon waters 

Are gushing all day long 

Gurgling and cleansing  

They sit firmly and strong  

They endure the cold  

And drink the morning breeze  

The sun peaks dutifully  

Shining through the windows of the trees  

The oak trees cough gently  

Releasing fluttering leaves  

landing on the heads of the rocks 

 for it is their freedom to explore  

It’s what they need  

The rock remains squatting  

Rooted to the ground  

Serving nature responsibly  

Sitting still not a sound  

Sometimes it’s a retreat  

For birds to drink and perch  

To play with their friends  

To take a bath and to chirp  

The rocks have lived for many many years  

They have witnessed all the laughter  

And lived all the tears. 

Joy in The Night

Joy is the moon crescent smiling down at you with vivid, silver, lips

Shining luminously as it watches over you, creating sprightly shadows that dance

The trees revel at the spectacle of their own silhouette

As they bounce buoyantly between the winds whistles,

Slowly whistling sending the trees to sleep

Cradled in the arms of the wind

The dragon flies flutter with flavescent leaf wings

Their bodies are varnished in a sapphire ink, illuminating the night sky

Attached to the eyelashes of the fern lays still the dragonfly

Waiting for the giant jacinth fire ball to be tossed in the horizon

To start the new day.


Woodland treasures

The robin ceases its evening song

The cricket holds its last croak

For a bird, will come out

The curtains have opened of the old oak

Here it comes

A bird with Smokey quartz feathers

Eyes like glass beads

One of woodlands greatest treasures

It dawdles and it dives

From high ascending trees

Dodging dainty daisy’s

Passing buzzing bees

It’s often seen flying

Traveling in a pair

Chasing after each other, exuberantly

Fluttering in the air

He wears a dark brown blazer

With a cerulean silk cuff

A cream bowler hat

A stripy fluffy puff

The trees call for it to be perched on

Shading the Jay with its leafy canopy

The Jay shares his adventures to the tree

And the tree speaks natures profundity.

 

By: Shaheryar A. Chishty 

Anonymous