I won't be here this week...

Dear lovely readers,

It's been a while since I wrote you something fresh. And tomorrow, I'll be leaving on train for a 5 day adventure camp in Mussoorie with my fellow school students. So you won't see anything new from me this week :( And so I say this holding my ears, standing on one leg: I'm sorry!

My life this week has been that crazy mix of thought and reality which is familiar to every teenager. I've stumbled through irrational irritation, foolish fantasies, crazy comparisons and serious self evaluation. And yes, there was shopping :P

Yesterday my diary entry read "I hope I'll have the strength to weather the storms and come out stronger". Might seem rather heavy for the summer holidays, but it makes sense to me. Especially since my "be positive" week turned into my "grumble about the heat" week instead. But jokes apart, high expectations sure do crash when you don't have optimum habits. I've not been able to give as much time to hobbies as I planned because my weekend(holiday) custom is to get up late and while away the major part of the day. Obviously, this diktat was not planned with the last summer vacation in mind. So while my homework is getting completed on schedule, I don't feel satisfied or convinced that I'm doing the best I can in my holidays. But like an incorrigible optimist, I still hope the rest of the week, and the rest of the holidays will be better.

I'm leaving you this week with some of my newly discovered poems. Do read them, think about them and share your thoughts! And of course, please do enjoy the rest of your week :) Bye-bye!

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One Inch Tall   by   Shel Silverstein

If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school. The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool. A crumb of cake would be a feast And last you seven days at least, A flea would be a frightening beast If you were one inch tall. If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door, And it would take about a month to get down to the store. A bit of fluff would be your bed, You'd swing upon a spider's thread, And wear a thimble on your head If you were one inch tall. You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum. You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb. You'd run from people's feet in fright, To move a pen would take all night, (This poem took fourteen years to write-- 'Cause I'm just one inch tall). ------------------------------------------------- "Hope" is the thing with feathers   by   Emily Dickinson    "Hope" is the thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops—at all— And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard— And sore must be the storm— That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm— I've heard it in the chillest land— And on the strangest Sea— Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb—of Me.  --------------------------------------------------- Trees   by   Joyce Kilmer   I think that I shall never see A poem as lovely as a tree.  A tree whose hungry mouth is prest  Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. --------------------------------------------------- I sit and think  by   J.R.R. Tolkien I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen, of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been; Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were, with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair. I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be when winter comes without a spring that I shall never see. For still there are so many things that I have never seen: in every wood in every spring there is a different green. I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago, and people who will see a world that I shall never know. But all the while I sit and think of times there were before, I listen for returning feet and voices at the door.