How they long for their big, bustling city!
Its crowds, the sounds,
the buses, trains, the cabs and trams,
the variety and colour of streets, the infinite shops, the choice of where to go,
the sights, the museums, the romance of night lights.
How every day is different, how varied the opportunities, the paths.

In my city,
the crowds fly and the sounds are melodies,
its inhabitants buzz, chirp, flow and hop by,
the streets divide into multitudes of colours and shapes, every inch as different
as two bricks are the same.
In the smallest of spaces there is infinity, and in the biggest, the choice of where to look,
and when the light shines, it fills the wholeness of space and the soleness of my heart,
the romance hidden in the little mysteries of a solemn sky.
How different each day is, how varied the opportunities, the paths!

Today I look upon that burst of pink,
the birth of buds,
the little droplets hanging from the pine leaves.
The branches, I notice, hang lower today,
the whiteness of the ground is of a different shade,
and while the birds sing as they did before,
I know their song is not the same.
The water that glides the surface of the stream is ever changing,
like the atoms that cycle in the dynamism of Life.

So I don’t long for my big, bustling city.
It goes with me wherever I go
Big as ever, no matter how small.
 

This above is my final exam piece. Click read more to see the work that led up to it and that was submitted for my IGCSE art exam. 

 

 

What flowers which such dazling gaze,
What leaves and bright bring me to such a maze,
This funny tree that makes me jump around,
This grass that makes me want to lick the ground.

How is it that the wind swishes by,
How is it that the rain smells like pie,
When the river down the mountain flows,
OH! When during the night the moon glows.

And when the sun did such rays shine,
And when I felt the whole world was mine!!!!
Why is it that mushrooms so colourful looked?
Why is it that that mine chicken weren't cooked?

Such random words I like to say,
Such fun i find it to continue and play,
My brain thus thought that I was crazy,
My sofa simply thought that I was lazy.

Within this poem that i hope you like,
Within the mountain that I will one day hike,
Will you find such nonsense words,
Will I sing them to mine birds.