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