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Rishav Chakrabarti Poem
The tiger watched the deer;
ready to pounce,
But then, the tiger was shot.
Copyright © Rishav Chakrabarti | Year Posted 2013
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Rishav Chakrabarti Poem
Teachers are the jewels of the world
More precious than silver or gold
A teacher, indeed, is wiser than a sage;
They fill our curious minds with knowledge.
They teach us to keep on working hard
Not just to make an impression or receive an award,
But in the hope that one day we will be better men
And the world will be proud of us then!
The relationship between a student and a teacher is quite deep
They guide us like a shepherd guiding his sheep.
A teacher is like a beacon of truth and honesty
Who uproots the weeds of sadness and misery.
Without teachers the world would be
As meaningless as a lock without a key
Everything would seem like an illusion
With nothing but chaos and confusion!
The worth of their teachings is not measurable
The things they have done for us are unforgettable
The teachers are so selfless;
They are really precious and priceless!
Our teachers are always there by our side
They always do what is right
They love and care for us in their own way
And that is all I have to say.
Copyright © Rishav Chakrabarti | Year Posted 2013
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Rishav Chakrabarti Poem
S omeday we will unite this disunited world
O nce and for all; although it is true that
M any have tried a lot to improve this world in
E very way they could; but
D on’t lose hope just yet
A nd give up so easily, because believe me when I say:
Y ou can be the change we need in this world.
W e can bring about revolution and
E nd this chaos and confusion
W herever you are out there,
I promise that we can do it.
L isten to this clarion call and
L ive your lives freely and united.
B right light will shine and soon will
E nd this period darkness despair
T he world needs us, so all of us should
H elp in any way we can to put an
E nd to all the problems and troubles in this world.
C an we do it? I say we can!
H owever big the problem,
A ll of us together can solve it, so
N ever back up no matter what, and
G et ready for a revolution as
E veryone can bring the change.
Copyright © Rishav Chakrabarti | Year Posted 2013
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Rishav Chakrabarti Poem
I met a man in the alley
who looked a little old
When he saw me approach,
He yelled, “you stupid cockroach!”
I was a little shaken
I thought he was mistaken;
I told him my name
But all was in vain.
He came running towards me like hell
And on the ground I fell,
When I got up
He threatened to take me to jail
I stood there in shock;
I couldn't even talk,
And in between all this, he asked,
“Are you a hen or a cock?”
I looked at him with puzzled eyes,
And he said I resembled wood lice,
I lost my temper and yelled at him;
He smiled as if I had said something nice.
Now I had grown much irritated,
So I no longer hesitated
But as I walked away,
He exclaimed, “What a pleasant day!”
Copyright © Rishav Chakrabarti | Year Posted 2013
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Rishav Chakrabarti Poem
Someday we will unite this disunited world
Once and for all; although it is true:
Many have tried and failed to improve this world in
Every way they could, but
Don’t lose hope just yet
And give up so easily, because believe me when I say
You can be the change we need in this world.
Copyright © Rishav Chakrabarti | Year Posted 2013
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Rishav Chakrabarti Poem
Far far away there's a place of great beauty;
The place has many wonders:
Like the big and huge dragons,
Or the ferocious warriors, battling;
Clad in chain mail,
Or the magnificent warships, ready for a voyage,
Setting their sails.
There is no barren land;
No space for desert sand,
But many a field,
Wonderful crops which yield.
The forests are full of life and green
Where not a sight goes unseen,
There is the cure for every disease
And all the people can live at ease.
It is a place where dreams come true,
And the problems there are little too.
Such a wondrous land does exist,
A place where your worries will be least;
Where everything is possible, it seems,
The beautiful land of beautiful dreams!
Copyright © Rishav Chakrabarti | Year Posted 2013
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Rishav Chakrabarti Poem
Magic we see is nothing but illusion
Where illusionists fill our minds with confusion
Magicians actually trick your mind
God knows what fun in these tricks people find
It is just some nonsense hocus-pocus;
Where magicians divert our focus
To weird spells which have no use
And are just meant to amuse
True magic does not mean vanishing a card into thin air,
Or pulling a coin from behind someone’s ear.
It’s certainly not taking out a bunny out of a hat
How ridiculous is something like that!
If you really want to find out
What real magic is about,
Just know that it is not some trick of a card,
True magic is in your heart
When you accept this
And lift yourself from folly’s abyss
You will realize that magic is not what magicians do
True magic is within you.
Copyright © Rishav Chakrabarti | Year Posted 2013
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Rishav Chakrabarti Poem
This poem is about my friend Eddie
We went to college together in New York City.
While other students were busy with trigonometric calculations,
Eddie had his own ambitions.
Eddie’s guitar was his prized possession
Plucking away at its strings was his obsession
Getting good grades was something he could manage
His performance was always above average
His father was his only fear
Who wanted to make him an engineer
Most of the time he was pestered with phone calls from his father,
Giving him advice but Eddie didn't even bother
But then he decide to meet hi, one day
So he drove to Philadelphia to meet him that day
He had to tell his father about his ambition
As he had no other option.
Getting home he found his father working away
But still he went up to him and said what he had to say
His father stopped and listened diligently
And after much argument he finally had to agree.
So now, after six years, two months and five days
Eddie has his own band where he plays,
Though Eddie and his father are still at war
About Eddie playing the guitar.
This was the story of my friend Eddie
Who is now a relatively well known celebrity
He finally got to live his dreams
And fulfilled his ambition, it seems!
Copyright © Rishav Chakrabarti | Year Posted 2013
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Rishav Chakrabarti Poem
Edward was a boy,
Who lived in London.
He was not so well to do,
On him was many a burden.
His father; a priest he was,
Managed to feed the boy.
Albeit his lowly wages,
He lived in peace and joy.
Edward had his father
Who meant all to him,
But his small world shattered
With no happiness within.
With his father gone
Edward was terrified.
There was no one who would take him in,
No one whom he loved.
So he left his small home
Which he would surely miss,
To find the love he had lost
In a cruel world like this.
Nobody noticed the boy
Wandering the streets alone.
Without anybody by his side
He was so forlorn.
He lived like a tramp;
Walking miles and miles barefoot.
Hungry and tired to death
Covered in dirt and soot.
With his feet bleeding
And sun-burnt skin,
He fainted on doorstep
Of a little inn
Waking up
He found himself lying on a bed,
With a lady by his side
Stroking his forehead.
Looking at young Edward with loving eyes
She said,"There, there,you surely need some rest"
She loved and cared a lot
For this sweet little guest.
He smiled back at her
And merrily he thought;
Life isn't so bad:
At last he had found what he eagerly sought.
Copyright © Rishav Chakrabarti | Year Posted 2013
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Rishav Chakrabarti Poem
The night is dark, the night is deep,
The night itself is now asleep;
But there are some nocturnal creatures deprived of slumber
Lurking in the city's allies and corners
Just waiting for an innocent prey
To come across their way;
The hapless victims always try to fight
But seldom can they withstand the might
Of those crafty creatures of the night
Who always remain out of sight.
The night is dark, the night is deep
It's been darkened by the gruesome deed
Of the nasty vultures who tend to feed
On the carcasses of the ones who don't heed
The warning signs that they often hear
That the devilish creatures are indeed near.
The city is nice, the city is fine
Though you may hear once in a while
Echoing through the streets at midnight strike
A bloodcurdling shriek or a pitiful whine
Then you'll realize that perhaps this time
The nocturnal creatures have sat to dine.
The night is dark, the night is deep
But why does the night silently weep?
The night was young and so beautiful
But now she is a sight so pitiful,
She's always scared and full of fear
Perhaps the nocturnal creatures are near!
Copyright © Rishav Chakrabarti | Year Posted 2016
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