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NONSENCICAL

Ahem, yes! It is actually named ‘nonsencical’(this not a typo). I thought about the name for a while and concluded
that since the content of this write-up does not make any sense so the title should not make any sense either. So, I
thought about naming it ‘nonsensical’, but even that makes sense, hence, ‘nonsencical’. Ok enough ‘nonsence’, (I am
so sorry this will be the last one, I promise), lets actually see what this thing contains.

For starters, it is a collection of three limerick poems and three four-liners. The third limerick combines the
impossible, that is, English and Physics together (I just had to write something based on science). The first two are
standard limericks as limericks should be written (meaning they are completely and utterly ‘nonsencical’. Ok , I lied).
The poems on the other hand, address more deeper issues in a hilarious and jocular way except the second one (I
don’t know why I wrote it, I guess just to fill some space, as two poems would seem very less). Now that you have
gathered this valuable information about the write-up (which is next to none), you may go ahead and read.

Oh, I almost forgot. I want to thank the school and my teacher of English for giving me this wonderful opportunity as
I explored a lot about myself in these past couple of days (that I actually have some talent, but then again that is for
you to judge) and I hope to make you smile.

There was an Old Man in a tree,

Who was horribly bored by a Bee;
When they said, 'Does it buzz?'
He replied, 'Yes, it does!'
It's a regular brute of a Bee!'

There was once a man from Lahore,
Who kept on dancing more and more,
He danced all day and night,
In rainy days and sunny bright;

Till he collapsed on the floor.
There was once a young lady named Bright,
Whose speed was much faster than light;
She set out one day,
In a relative way;
And returned on the previous night.

The nose complains, “The ear can’t smell a thing:
It’s good for nothing but to wear a ring”
While the ear says, “The nose can’t hear a voice;
But when it sleeps just listen to its noise!”

The thunderbolt says, ‘When I call from afar,
The people think it is the clouds that roar.
When I flash, “LIGHTNING!” they cry down under.

But when I strike they know I am the THUNDER.’
‘How Bold am I! The rocket exclaims’
I race to the stars, and fling my dirt in their face.’
‘It doesn’t stick to them’, the poet calls.

‘It simply drops behind you as you fall.’
Sarthak Pahwa

XII A
Illustration by- Harji Singh Bhasin, X D