Why this blog?

The nascent and fresh minds of students are so creatively inclined that they have the ability to bring into being a universe of their own. They are little tyros who would, with time, unfold into verves, momentum or sensations of various creative dimensions. A chalk sculptor, a clay artist, an amateur painter of Madhubani, Warli, a dabbler of still life, a budding poet, a tenderfoot writer or a fledgling lyricist – one gets all varieties of creatively-aligned students covered in a seemingly dilettantish peel. We at Shishukunj aspire to provide a humble platform to all such potentials to smatter around and mature into the perfection that they are seeking to epitomize or become! This blog is thus an endeavor that would allow all Shishyans to just play around with their latent artistic caliber and enjoy the bliss of a “BRAVO” from known and unknown quarters.

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

The School Bus - 1

Class VIII B

After reading ‘The Palanquin Bearers’ students of Class VIII B wrote the following poems.

The School BusVrinda Modi, Class VIII B

School bus is the best transport.
It sways like a flower in wind of our song.
It makes us chat along with our friends.

Gaily, O’ gaily we talk and we sing.
School bus is a small world in itself.
We chat, discuss and learn many things,
Joy and happiness, the school bus brings.

We enjoy the long journey,
With friends do we joke.
In the bus we ride safe miles,
With faces beaming with smiles.

The School BusKhushi Parwal, Class VIII B

Faster and faster it moves on the road,
After all the children have been on board.
Some laugh and chatter after the long tiring day,
While some sleep throughout the way.

The bus is full of noise,
Made by both girls and boys,
They enjoy their trip back home,
Where most of them study alone.

Like others, the bus rests at night,
And starts the journey again with all its might.
The bus never feels tired,
Because it carries us as required.

How Pleasant to Travel in a CarShreyas Kumar, Class VIII B

I love to go in a car
When the distance is far
Through the windows I see the trees
And the hives of the bees.

The wind is very fresh
In the fields where the farmers thresh
When the speed is of hundred
The beads fall from the thread.

When the beautiful sun sets
The dark the day gets
But then comes the moon light
Which is bright and white.


My Dad’s CarArmaan Jaiswal, Class VIII B

The car in which I come to school
The driver is my daddy cool.
He drives past the trees
My daddy makes me free.

I get busy while viewing the sights
He fastens the seatbelt and makes me tight.
He sings when it rains,
He gets upset at clogged drains.

My daddy sings well
He and I jell well.
Finally, I reach the school,
In a car with my daddy cool.