Survive

The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street #5

I’m gonna survive,

Even if I have to cut you down,

I don’t care if you live,

As long as I won’t drown.

I’m strong; I’m smart,

Who cares if you’re not:

It’s your own demise

I’ll live; you’ll be caught

Taking no liabilities,

If you’re just going to slow me.

Generosity and friendship

Are lost, you see.

I’ll survive,

That’s what I’ll do.

I choose me,

When it comes down to me or you.

Selfish World

The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street #4

It’s a selfish world,

Every one’s only thinking of themselves

It’s a selfish world,

You feel you only need to save yourself.

It’s a selfish world,

Hoard all the money,

Don’t share the supplies,

Consumed by greed.

It’s a selfish world,

Won’t you be thoughtful?

Won’t you be kind?

But you think you got your hands full.

It’s a selfish world,

What happened to all the good?

What happened to the morality?

Everyone’s hands are covered in blood.

Fear

The only thing we have to fear

Is ourselves.

The fear creeps into our mind,

Poisoning our thoughts, can’t think for yourself.

The poison spreads its dark tendrils

Wraps them around the brain

Makes you do rash things

You don’t think straight.

Running from something, you don’t know what it is.

Do anything to get away.

Like shooting a friend you once held close to you.

Fear is a weapon that makes you afraid.

Clouding your thoughts with black smoke

You’ll take an idea, a spark

Turn it into a bonfire.

Leaving others to burn, you’re too scared of the dark.

The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street: The Enemies

This is the second poem in the series for "The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street."

Some ways to die

Are by gun, sword, and knife.

The weapon doesn’t kill the man,

The man does.

We are the enemies,

We are the weapon.

The matter of morality,

To us always comes second.

Do anything to survive,

Even at the cost of others.

When it comes down to me or you

You know we’re not sticking together.

Yes, we’ll be

Our own desolation.

The human race will continue

To spread destruction.

The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street: Suspicion

This poem is the first of six poems that I wrote about a script titled "The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street" by Rod Serling. The intriguing story is about "monsters" who come to a street called Maple Street and manipulate the residents into turning on each other and eventually killing each other off. I wrote six poems to reflect the dark theme of "The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street" and how the monsters had believed that the easiest way to conquer the planet was to let the people become their worst enemies.

Suspicion; runs rampant through the streets,

Hey everybody, why are you blaming it on me?

Suspicion; we’re turning against each other,

What ever happened to sticking together?

The blame is passed around and around,

Trying to find a scapegoat.

But we’ll never know, no,

That we’re all in the same boat.

Pick out every idiosyncrasy,

Each person has, if it seems weird.

Like staring at the stars to help sleep,

Driven by all our fear.

Suspicion; runs rampant through the streets,

Hey everybody, why are you blaming it on me?

Suspicion; we’re turning against each other,

What ever happened to sticking together?

A Tree Stands Tall

A tree stands tall.
When the wind blows.
As gusts bombard it.
Zephyrs rustle the leaves.
But a tree merely bends.
To accommodate the wind.
A tree does not break
Under the pressure.
It shows resilience
In the face of adversity.
When it's leaves turn
Crimson, tangerine, and gold,
And then begin to fall.
A tree remains.
When harsh winter
Brings cold bitter snow,
A tree does not succumb.
It will wait for it's leaves to return,
For them to bring with them
Bright spring blossoms,
Which will turn into summer fruit.
A tree will wait,
And withstand, survive, and endure.
A tree won't perish,
Before it's time has come.
But until then;
A tree stands tall.

Run

My lungs are burning,
And my muscles are aching.
I have to keep going,
I can make it.

I can't give up,
As the finish line draws near.
Right foot, left foot,
The end is almost here.

I struggle against myself
To keep up this speed,
A mental battle to
Pay my pain no heed.

I can't slow down,
I'm almost there, almost done.
It's what I kept telling myself.
Until I finished the run.

School

Seven in the morning,
I'm jerked from my sleep.
By an annoying sound,
A familiar beep.

Summer went so quickly!
The time has now come.
To end my fun and games,
I'm looking very glum.

Get ready for the day,
No more sleeping in.
Pick up my heavy backpack,
Walk to "prison."

The first day back isn't too bad,
Catching up with all your friends,
Teachers busy with introductions,
But the leniency soon ends.

Live for the bell
That signals the end of the day.
Walk back home, with books
Weighing you down all the way.

Then- Oh no!
There's something left to do.
Homework has to be finished,
For the next day it's due.

Finally the work is done,
I can set down my pen.
Go to sleep, wake up,
Then do it all over again!

Bird's Eye View

Today I decided on a non-rhyming poem, describing what a bird sees as it flies, and how small things can appear from high above.

It flew on feathers,
Riding the wind,
Surveying
The land beneath it.

Rivers no more
Than blue lines
Gushing through the land.

Structures and buildings
Moving by
In a blur.

Mountains capped in snow
Majestic ridges in the
Otherwise flat land.

Trees blend together
To create a
Green landscape.

It swoops lower,
Gliding through the air.
The landscape now detailed.

Flies to its nest,
And stays there for the night.

Journey

Over the ocean,

Off we go.

Where we'll end up,

No one knows.

Sail the seas,

To a faraway land.

Get off on a beach,

With foreign sand.

Up a hill,

And down a slope.

Next a mountain,

Capped with snow.

Now continue the trek,

Through fields so green.

And beautiful forests,

Lakes, rivers, and streams.

What an extraordinary adventure,

Carried on through cold and heat.

Many new worlds found,

A journey complete.

Sunset

He gazed upon the land,
Another time,
While still watching,
He began his climb.

While he was one, he
Saw many scenes.
Last glimpses of mountains,
Or rolling hills so green.

The many cities,
He bid good night,
As well as the beach.
He'll soon snuff out his light.

Or he may be just parting,
With nothing but the sea
Wherever he is,
This time is a beautiful one to see.

Slowly sinking,
Down to the ground.
A stunning red-orange
Can be seen all around.

Save for a darkness,
Just across from him,
Soon to be lit up,
By a light so slim.

His sister's time to rule
Is beginning,
She'll watch over the stars,
And add to the light they bring.

He slips under the horizon,
Time to rest,
And prepare for the next journey,
From east sky to west.

Stars and Stripes

Our stars and stripes billow
Beautifully in the breeze.
On this momentous day,
We became the land of the free.

1776,
Fourth of July,
To the British Empire
We triumphantly wave good bye!

While the legal separation
Happened two days ago,
The approval of our Independence today,
Declared that the USA is going solo!

So gather your family and friends,
Watch the fireworks and parades,
Have barbecues and picnics,
Celebrate this holiday!

We the people of the United States,
Are so proud to be,
A part of America, an amazing,
Beautiful country!



Happy Fourth of July from the Bay Area!

Father's Day

This is not a poem, but I wrote this letter for my dad. Happy Father's Day!

Dear Dad,

All my life you have had a huge influence on me. I get most of my personality from you and you’ve helped me with so many activities and pushed me to my achievements.

You are intelligent but also silly at times. I love that you always joke around and have fun with me. You signed me up for badminton classes, and taught me how to bike. I aspire to get a job in marketing just like you, so I am in FBLA, a program to learn about business and marketing. You have also enrolled me in many awesome summer camps, such as Golden Eagle or Schmahl Science.

I am not as physically fit as you, even though we are similar in physical appearance. But, you make me exercise daily and that keeps me healthy. In fact, on a vigourous mountain hike in Puerto Vallarta, I had no trouble keeping up with you or Rutu. I don’t like working in the garden because my hands get dirty and there are many bugs and spiders, but you still make me do it to learn chores and hard work.

You also help me get over my weaknesses. One of my greatest weaknesses is that I don’t like to try new things, especially foods. You are always pushing me to try new things, though, and therefore I am slowly expanding what I eat and trying some new food.

You’re always guiding me through life and helping me be the best person I can be. You are always there for me, and always knows what to do to make me feel better, sometimes if the situation calls for tough love. Even if it is through tough love, I know you love me, and I love you to the stars and back! Happy Father’s Day!

With Lots of Love,

Ruchika

Writer's Block

This is the last of my older poems! After this, I'll be writing new ones every Sunday!

Inside my mind, deep inside,

Creative juices flow.

When I need to put my thoughts on paper,

They tell me what I need to know.

Poem after poem,

Story after story.

That creativity keeps me working,

And words spin out of me.

But soon after time

That creativity forms a clot.

The words that used to appear to me so easily,

Are put on paper - not!

Stay up late thinking,

What shall I write?

But nothing, no, 

My mind is blank and white.

Then, after time goes by,

Creativity suddenly bursts through that clot.

Like water breaking through a dam, I hope I

Never get such a serious case again of

WRITER'S BLOCK!

A Memory is a Photo

This poem was written a little over a year ago, not rhyming.

A memory is a photo.

It captures the joy of a moment.

Like time freezing.

A memory is a thought.

Remembering something sorrowful.

As you blink back tears.

A memory is a moment,

That happened a long time ago,

Which made you furious.

Yet a memory cannot be described.

Cannot be defined in words.

A memory can have different emotions.

A memory is a photo.

noun, mem·o·ry,something that is remembered; the things learned and kept in the mind

Living

A very short rhyming poem that I wrote a while back.

Hold on to it, because
It will go, no matter what you do.
Live life to its fullest,
Listen to what your heart tells you.
Just let all your happiness out,
Run around, jump and shout.
Be alive, be thriving
Be happy, be living.

The Night

The last night poem for a while... about the Night! This one doesn't rhyme and is short. The image is a spliced time lapse image of day to night in New York.

As the light drifts off to sleep,
She creeps into the sky.
Spreads Her darkness.
Raises Her precious moon.
Sets free Her diamond stars.
Everything falls asleep,
Except Her creatures.
She is everywhere, anywhere,
Yet nowhere to be seen.
Hides behind the horizon.
As He chases her away
With His Sun.

Fear the Bookmark

Bookmarks: super scary!

Fear the bookmark
That tells you to stop.
When you read in the park
Or under your covers in the dark.
Good books are hard to top.

Fear the bookmark
When you try to go
To worlds that existed you didn't know
Of paper and pen and ink.
You don't seem to think.

Heroes and villains,
Magic and killings.
Unicorns and fairies,
Storms and things that are scary.

Magical beings and creatures of light,
Darkness and things that go bump in the night.
You want, yes you do,
Want to read and continue.
For a simple collation of papers is your only spark
So always fear the bookmark.

Rainbows

Written a while back, this type of poem is called a reversible poem. I was inspired to write this by the book "Mirror Mirror: A Book of Reversible Poems" by Marylin Singer and a poem written by Jordan Nichols, "Our Generation."

Rainbows
Are
There
After Rain Falls
Splashes of Color
As
Reflected Sunlight
Looks Beautiful
Water and Light
Mixed Together
Above the Clouds
In the Sky
Standing
Proudly
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, and Purple
A Colorful Arc Shines
Over the World.

read in reverse:

Over the World
A Colorful Arc Shines
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, and Purple
Proudly
Standing
In the Sky
Above the Clouds
Mixed Together
Water and Light
Looks Beautiful
Reflected Sunlight
As

Splashes of Color

After Rain Falls

There

Are Rainbows.

Metaphors

This is one of my favorite poems that I have written!

How does the Day break?
I think of this all.
And who pushed the Night
To make it fall?

If the morning sun is a cup of coffee,
It'll surely burn when I am done.
And I think it's truly disgusting
If a cat is in possession of your tongue.

A broken heart must hurt a lot.
How can someone drive a lemon car?
A person must have awfully long arms,
If they can reach for the stars.

If it rains cats and dogs,
Can I keep one as a pet?
How can a person have a heart of gold?
I haven't figured this out yet.

Why would one hit the hay when sleepy?
What did it ever do to them?
And if someone spilled some beans,
I'd fail to see the big problem.

Why do people say these strange words?
I really can not say.
But I still would like to know
What victory tastes like anyway.

Shooting Star

More night poems!!!!! This one is short and doesn't rhyme.

A streak of color
Flashes across the night
And disappears,
Like an arrow piercing the dark fabric
That is the sky.
Down to Earth,
From the Heavens it falls.
A token of good luck
From the gods.
A blur, then
Gone.

To the Best Mom Anyone Could Ask For

Happy Mother's Day!
Background Credits to My Brother

From Your Awesome Daughter and Son,

Ruchika and Ritwik Dixit

The Moon

Another nighttime poem... I'm obsessed with writing them! Sunday is just around the corner- could a Mother's Day special be with it too? Hmmm.... 

Round and full,
A silver ball
Lights up
As the Night falls.

Until Day breaks,
I will shine.
Bask in my glory,
I am so fine

My sister stars
Dance around me 
It's truly a wonderful
Sight to see

But I must go now,
For my brother Sun is rising
The day is starting, but
Soon, again I will be shining.

Dancing Stars

This poem is upbeat and happy.

Quick! Come out!
The sun is gone,
So we can dance
Until the dawn.

We must hurry,
For Day can't sleep long.
So let's begin
Our nighttime song.

Dance through the night,
We are the only light,
Except for our brother the Moon.

For we are the Stars,
How wonderful we are!
My sisters and I light up the rooms.

Our light, Starlight,
Shines through every window,
As we put on
Our breathtaking show.

Oh, would you look at that!
Sun is back!
Hide everyone,
The day has begun.

Empathy and Selfishness

A poem about the importance of empathy.

Always waiting for tomorrow,
Never seeing another's sorrow,
As all your "painful" days go by,
You are blind to watch others cry.

So what? You didn't get your way?
There are others in more pain.
You see smiles everyday, but
Who's world is upside down, you cannot say.

Always waiting for tomorrow,
Never seeing another's sorrow,
As all your "painful" days go by,
You are blind to see others cry.

While you have slight unhappiness,
Others are hopeless, homeless, penniless.
You only mourn for your own small losses.
Don't be so selfish, try helping other causes.

Always waiting for tomorrow,
Never seeing another's sorrow,
As all your "painful" days go by,
You are blind to notice others cry.

Cold

Another winter-themed poem. It's pretty short.

The chilly air,
The foggy night,
My cold breath,
Barely any light.
Frozen pond,
Snowy day,
It's cold,
I would say.
Blizzards and hail,
Snowflakes about,
Freezing rain,
River not thawed out.
To icy to go
Outside anyway.
But it's cold,
I would say.

Jaguar

I learned sometime ago that not all poems have to rhyme. This one doesn't!

Deep inside the rain forest
He waits, motionless like a boulder
Hidden by the ferns and leaves
His spotted golden pelt cannot be seen
The birds sing, the river gushes
Yet he is silent.
Spots his target, an unsuspecting deer
Drinking clear, fresh, cool water.
He moves closer
The soft fur of his belly brushing against the undergrowth.
The deer pauses, looking up
She sees nothing, hears nothing,
Continues drinking the water.
He is so close now,
Ready to pounce at any moment.
The deer now senses him and
Turns to speed away.
He leaps! Splashes into the water
The chase has begun!
The deer zigs and zags through twists and turns
Weaving around the trees,
Hoping to lose him.
But he is fast!
He darts after her in smooth bounds
His powerful legs drive him forward
And he strikes, the deer falling.
The chase is over, the rain forest peaceful again.
He carries her home for dinner.

Symphony

This one's a little shorter, but I like it a lot, because I love music!

The notes start small,
Then build up to a grand euphony.
Pleasant to the ear,
Music in a symphony.

A collaboration of people,
Playing their instruments,
Each wonderfully talented and skilled,
The music is sweet yet intense.

On and on they play
The conductors arms sway
Violins, drums, flutes, and piano,
All together, then someone playing solo.

The musical chords gradually come to an end.
The audience stands up and give them a hand.

Shattered Ice

I decided to post poems more often than weekly until I have a lot more than two. This poem is more suited for winter, unlike my previous poem.

The water has not ceased to flow,
Only covered by a blanket of ice and snow.
Underneath, the chilled yet liquid water gushes.
Through turns and rapids it rushes.
On an island a large willow tree stands alone,
Through the long leaves the wind is blown.
The soft breeze lazily floats through the crisp air in the sky,
Until the draft picks up and begins to quickly fly.
A massive branch droops over the river,
That begins to dangerously shiver.
Crack! The branch is torn away from the tree!
From the willow the branch is free.
It falls into the river, this huge mass,
The cracked river seems like broken glass.
The ice begins to move, the top layer no longer stunned,
The shattered ice glitters under the small light of the cloud-hidden sun.

Spring Rain

This poem is great for springtime!

The soft pitter patter of rain,
Falls against the window.
Washing away the winter,
And creating a rainbow.

Falling from the gray skies,
Splashing on the floor.
A sprinkle, shower, or drizzle,
Turns into a pour.

Through the night,
A seemingly endless torrent of rain.
Dark, cold and wet, 
Efforts to get warm are in vain.

Water washing away the memories,
The pain from yesterday.
And when the sun comes up,
The light will signal a new day.

Look up to the sunny azure
Lift your chin up, spring is here,
Flowers bloom and all is bright
Summer will soon draw near.

Escape Into A Book

Now this isn't the first poem I've ever written, but it is the first poem to be posted on this blog. This poem expresses my love of fiction and reading. I found the PERFECT picture to go along with this. Enjoy!

When the sad, cruel reality
Is chasing after me
I’ll escape into a book
And begin to read

I’ll turn the pages to a story
I’ll live inside the ink
When I’m inside a fantasy
I don’t care what others think

A juicy novel, or mystery
Where you have to solve a crime
Or a heart racing thriller
Where you travel back in time

I’ll bite my nails during a fight
I’ll rejoice after a victory
I’ll cry over a hero’s death
I’ll pour myself into a story

Yes- escape into a book!
I think that’s what I’ll do
Oh no! Look at this!
My dreaded taxes are overdue.