POET'S CREATIVE CORNER

If you're safe on the net, you are safe in real life,

Your data is something a thief may steal.

 Giving your private information online,

It’s the worst thing to do when you want to pass the time.

 If one wants to do something funny,

They can morph your photo and sell it for money.

 

What is the big deal in letting one know,

I live in Denmark, and then you get a blow.

 Remember the last time on X you said,

I go to the gym on Thursday and straight to bed.

 He may send a comrade to steal your stuff, and

now, why are you sad you’ll have to bluff?

 

So, isn’t it easier to keep your lips sealed,

Keep strong passwords and stay under the shield.

 In the world’s wide web, it’s best to be wise,

Protect what is yours, and avoid any lies.

 When in crisis, definitely go.

To dial the cyber-crime portal on “One Nine Three O.”

​

PRANSHUL AGGARWAL

The cheers of “Merry Christmas!” ripple through the hall,

And crowds pour in, overflowing the mall.

Buying gifts, unwrapping them again and again,

Guessing whether it’s Barbie… or maybe Ken.

Tearing open presents is honestly the best part—

Is it a PS5 or a secret family tart?

Then comes Christmas dinner, everyone’s delight—

Plum cake, chicken, mashed potatoes… a feast done right.

Decorating the tree, snagging food samples for free,

And placing the star on top with so much glee—

The perfect finishing touch, sweet as a cherry,

A moment so simple, yet forever merry.

But soon the season ends, and the sparkle fades away,

Taking down the tree where memories used to stay.

The décor disappears, the magic long gone—

And waking up for school feels extra rough at dawn.

Winter arrives quietly in India, not with snow,

but with soft sunlight that feels gentle on the skin

and mornings wrapped in a cool mist that drifts slowly

over fields, rooftops, and half-awake streets.

The breeze carries a light chill,

just enough to make us pull our sweaters closer,

and tea stalls breathe out warm clouds of steam

that mix with the fog like little stories beginning to rise.

Trees don’t turn white here,

but their leaves sway with a calmer rhythm,

and the grass glistens with dew—

tiny droplets catching the sun like shy sparks.

People walk faster, hands tucked into pockets, and

bicycles ring through the hazy lanes, Their sound

is clearer than usual,

as if winter sharpens every small detail.

Evenings arrive earlier, soft and golden,

with the sky turning a faint purple at the edges—

and under those fading colors,

The day ends slowly, almost thoughtfully,

a rhyme of calm after the rush of hours.

And somewhere between cool mornings

and warm quilts waiting at night,

Winter reminds us that beauty doesn’t need snow—

sometimes it’s just in the quieter pace of life,

and the comfort it leaves behind

 

PRANSHUL AGGARWAL

He came into my world, loud and small

With toy cars zooming down the hall

I had my books, my quiet space-

Then boom! A wild face in my face

 

He asks too many “why’s” a day,

And never puts his socks away

He jumps on beds, he breaks my pens,

Then he calls me the “best sister”

 

I roll my eyes, he PULLS my hair,

We argue over who gets the front seat

But when I’m sad, he somehow knows-

He brings me a chocolate (half-melted though)

 

He’s chaos wrapped in giggles and glue,

With scraped-up knees and one lost shoe

I’m the boss, the guide, the referee-

But he’s the heart that softens me.

 

We’re not at alike, and that’s just fine-

He’s the punchline to my straight line

And though he drives me up the wall,

He’s my forever, after all (I guess)

​

SSANVI DUA

Limerick

There once was a boy in a school

That taught magic very, very cool

Oh, look! My acceptance letter

The story’s just getting better

And yes, the school had ghouls!

 

Haiku

Hogwarts – magic school

If you want to cast a spell

This is the right place

 

Swish and flick, goes my magic stick,

Hogwarts, it’s bigger than a million bricks,

 

Let’s go to the Great Hall

For some pumpkin juice and cake

There’s a giant squid in the Giant Lake

Charms and Transfiguration,

 

Potions and Divination

And out of the gloom, rises a flying broom,

Lets play in the Quidditch Pitch,

With the Quaffle and the Snitch!

The phenomenon that has convinced us to wake up early in the morn.

for nothing in the universe now holds greater priority

than checking whether the network is still on.

Without it, life feels painfully slow and frankly a bore,

But with it, even the clouds seem ready to roar.

In today’s world, its necessity only grows.

Some use it for harmless timepass, while others treat it like a research thesis they never wrote.

A habit firmly planted in every age group’s soul -

a reliable source of entertainment and communication, its unquestioned goal.

Meanwhile, children stare endlessly at glowing screens,

laptops, phones, televisions, tablets - each emitting its own dramatic gleam.

Naturally, this loyal companion has also contributed

to the gradual disappearance of healthy eyesight in several kids -

a never-ending connection, as mysterious as the end of a rainbow no one can ever reach.

Wi-Fi, the new foundation of modern living,

is a beam of trust that keeps on believing

that every discovery or invention today

secretly depends on it.

Truly, if technology has a godfather,

the title has already been claimed.

​

SSANVIKA GUPTA

Quarante jours de combat- le pacte silencieux,

L'homme la quitte sur ordre du ciel. Elle reste intacte,

 mais pas pour longtemps, Le chapeau mourant couronnera son tort.

 Buvant le poison forcé, savourant chaque goutte,

 Elle sert son mari dans la mort- même la serpillière.

 L'une d'elles a tenté de s'enfuir, ce fut un échec, Ils l'ont jetée du haut.

 Nul ne pouvait échapper à cette malédiction, même le plus puissant a explosé.

​

VARTIKA SRIVASTAVA

I look up at the sky as I write this to you

I tell myself you're in a better place.

But I still see a glimpse of you in the welkin

As if the stars have formed into your face.

I remember that rocking chair of yours

The black leather one you loved so much.

I can't stand seeing it empty nowadays

It still has your scent and your touch.

You always spoiled me with gifts

And drove me to school everyday.

We stayed up watching TV every night

How I wish I could go back to that day.

And I wish I could believe in heaven

And that you have finally found peace.

As I learn to accept that you're gone

Leaving traces of what used to be.

While I so terribly grieve your loss

I'll honour you with every smile and tear.

You lived a life to be celebrated

By this family, you'll always be held dear.

​

Saanjh Sahay 10D

What’s in a breed? Well everything- people would say?

Good manners and brains, often lead the way.

 Furry coat, size and pedigree, are sought after.

Appearances are all that matter.

 Pups born on the street are an unpleasant sight.

People shun them out of fright.

 They scrounge the streets for food and shelter.

No one seems to care when they run helter-skelter.

 Who needs them? I sometimes wonder.

Pedigree strikes people’s hearts like thunder.

 Society is our moral dictate.

So people leave them to their fate.

 How can we flaunt an Indie pup around?

Reputations can at no cost be drowned.

 Looks, Looks and Looks are the Hook.

To get inclusion in the ‘Famous Book’.

 But do these hooks ever last?

Only till a new trend emerges fast.

​

Vaanya Bhasin 9G

The raindrops dance around my windowpane,

They call out to me, seeking to lure me away

From my daily chores, so terribly mundane,

I think they want me to come play in the rain.

 

So I close my books and move my chair,

unlatching my window, I wistfully stare

If I should play, the rain would mar my clothes and hair

So I quiet my yearnings and take to my books again.

 

But the raindrops come knocking again

They playfully await me at my windowpane

I tell them I am no longer the young, blithe girl

who abandons her drudgeries, to go and play.

 

Though I would never have forsaken the rain

When I was a little girl, no older than ten

But now I am cautious, too conscious to play

So I reverie with rain into the fragments of a yesterday.

 

And the rain stops calling for me eventually,

the raindrops slip down my windowpane.

I feel myself fall deep into a dull despair

I think they would’ve wanted me to play in the rain.

​

Saanjh Sahay 10D

Clouds went crazy,

had their fun,

Splashing water on everyone!

Gurugram turned into “Jalgram” town,

Cars got stuck, and traffic broke down.

Children grabbed their bags to go,

Rain said, “Wait — I’ll steal the show!”

Umbrellas popped in colors bright,

Still our shoes went squish-squash right!

Inside the class, what did we see?

Madam sneezing — “Achoo! Hee-hee!”

Chalk got soggy, books went damp,

School was turning into a camp!

Roads became like oceans wide,

Cars were floating, side by side.

Papa came with a worried face,

“Driving here is a water race!”

Clouds kept roaring — boom, boom, boom!

We rushed back home — no more classroom.

At last, the rain got tired too,

Sat down quietly — “I’m done, adieu

​

RAGHVI KHANTWAL (3G)

Earthquakes shake, floods rise high,

Nature's warnings, we can't deny.

We're in danger, it's plain to see,

What can we do to set nature free?

 

We can reduce, reuse, recycle too,

Plant more trees, and see this through.

Conserve water, save energy with care,

Let's protect nature, show we truly care.

 

 We can make a change, starting today,

For a brighter future, in a better way.

Let's join hands, and work as a team,

To save our planet, it's a noble dream.

### CONCLUSION

We can all be nature's friends,

And help our planet till the very end. Let's take action, and do our part,

To keep our Earth safe, and full of heart.

 

 

This poem aims to raise awareness about natural disasters and encourages everyone to take small steps to protect the environment

​

VAMIKA VATS (3C)

My country’s name is India

I will keep it clean,

I will make it shine,

This lovely land is truly mine.

 

I love my flag, it’s tricolor

Saffron, white and green so tall

The Ashoka wheel is in the center —

A sign of truth, peace and valor.

 

I love my country, this is true

And I will always be loyal too

I will help it grow and always say

Jai Hind ! Jai Bharat ! everyday.

 

Kaviratn Singh, II F

Who is she?

She doesn’t yet herself know.

The power she holds as she grows,

The intricacy she provides with her blissful gaze

is known to her sight.

Why is she so far away from the light?

Shouldn’t she be like the other kids

who are dancing in the rain

living a life full of colours

away from all miseries and pain.

But she, she finds the rain depressing

Her thoughts are deeper

How can one find solace seeing the nature crying?

How can there be colours be in one’s life

When the nature itself is black and white.

​

​Deepshikha Singh, XI C

In a midnight summer dream, I wander through,

An amethyst sky where the stars renew.

A starry night with whispers low,

Guides my path in a jaded glow.

 

Fortune's hand, unseen but near,

Shapes my fate with silent cheer.

A navigator in the cosmic stream,

Steering through my midnight summer dream.

 

The trees, with leaves like emeralds bright,

Sway and dance in the mystic light.

Their shadows play upon the ground,

A silent symphony all around.

 

Oceans deep and rivers wide,

Reflect the heavens, side by side.

Ripples whisper secrets old,

Of tales untold and dreams of gold.

 

Through fields of stardust, I make my way,

As night gives birth to the break of day.

The morning dew, a jeweled thread,

Weaves a tapestry where dreams are spread:

A midnight summer dream's embrace,

A timeless journey through time and space.

There are so many types of books

Don’t judge only on their different looks

Some may be full of thrillers, suspense

And bits of an unsolved mystery

Others may delve deep into the past

And bring out some pieces of history

Here comes our dear friend, comedy

Amusing and hilarious, you want to read some more

And the fables in the storybooks tell you

Tales you have never ever heard before

There are so many types remaining

That I have not told you about yet

But go ahead and pick up a book,

Because they are the best friends you’ve met!

​

Anya Anuva Khatua, V D

Under green trees, where shadows stay,

Streams sing softly on their way.

Flowers bloom with colors bright,

Butterflies dance in morning light.

 

The golden sun smiles on hills so high,

Birds chirp sweet songs as they fly.

Cool winds whisper through the air,

Nature’s beauty is everywhere.

 

Moon and stars at night do glow,

Teaching wonders we should know.

Let’s protect this world so dear,

For its magic brings us cheer.

 

Viaan Nigaam, IV A

This is a world, so magical and ethereal

Do these adjectives ring a bell?

You are correct, this is our Mother Earth!

A planet with the highest worth

Some lands, as empty as deserts,

While others, filled with unique pleasures

Lush green forests, both tall and small

Something that ignites peace in all

Thundering skies and showering rain

Sunlit fields of corn, scattered with grain

Chilly breeze of snow-capped mountains

Drifting leaves on these wide terrains

Ferocious roars of tigers roaming the evergreen forests

The whispers of rivers that are so honest

Leaves crunching in the cloudy haze of fall

The most powerful sound is nature’s call

 

Veda Mathur, VIII G

A set-up stage,

A scintillating initiative very bright,

Curiosity danced on the air, in the evening light.

The Amity family so vast, people showed up in a force,

 that would forever last in their heart.

A celebration of words,

in writing’s name, enhancing Amity’s fame.

The niche of the show, to revere,

principals gathered to steer us clear.

And our honourable chairperson ma’am,

Mrs. Amita Chauhan, held dear, Making stand,

 for Amity’s plan so grand,

soulfully igniting children across the land.

Ms. Jyoti Mishra describing her journey quite bold,

From shy school peer to a well known

news reporter with a gold.

Her story enlightened a testament to preserve very strong.

Her words resonated deep and long.

The final curtain call, the jury member’s decision was very wise. Amity Noida had raised the prize.

But no stone was left unturned, hence every school

 was recognised turn by turn.

A family of joy where hearts took flight.

In Amity’s global times, memory unites.

 

Shreshtha Karan, VIII-G