प्यार poetry!

My book रिपोर्ट is due today.
I haven't finished yet.
In fact, I haven't started,
which I'm coming to regret.

I haven't even read the book.
I put it off so long.
I thought I'd have a lot of time.
It looks like I was wrong.

I'd ask my older brother
what this book is all about,
but he's already left for school
and cannot help me out.

I'd hustle to the movie store
and rent the DVD,
but I don't even have the time
to watch it on TV.

I guess I'll have to fake it
and pretend I read the book.
Then write a bunch of nonsense
and assorted gobbledygook.

It's either that, या do the thing
my conscience knows is right:
I'll claim I'm sick and stay at home
and finish it tonight.

I have my oriental flower
My white makeup on
At last, I forgotten to take a shower
गाना to the song PONPONPON

I'm a geisha girl
With my blush on right
A geisha girl
Is one who roams at night

My reflection stares straight back at me
Who is that little girl that I see
She may appear happy
But with that cold steel blade through her heart
Nothing but a dab a sympathy

Here and there
I flap my fan
The dragon's मांद, डेन decorating my story
It is still unfitted however
For an ancient girl with a descending line of love
But unlike me
They have sad endings

I'm a geisha girl
Who is unlike the others
I will never ever bother
I'm a geisha girl
Who has the mark of red seas
I have heard that प्यार lives on

No one has never done
The unthinkable
I'm the distinct one
Imaginable care and dares
Geisha from the disturbed past
But like a graceful eagle
I still flap

Just a freeboard
Geisha girl
With that little girl
Staring back at me

With long sobs
the violin-throbs
of autumn wound
my दिल with languorous
and montonous
sound.

Choking and pale
When I mind the tale
the hours keep,
my memory strays
down other days
and I weep;

and I let me go
where ill winds blow
now here, now there,
harried and sped,
even as a dead
leaf, anywhere.

*************************************************

CHANSON D'AUTOMNE

Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l'automne
Blessent mon cœur
D'une langueur
Monotone.

Tout suffocant
Et blême, quand
Sonne l'heure.
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens,
Et je pleure.

Et je m'en vais
Au vent mauvais
Qui m'emporte
De çà, de là,
Pareil à la
Feuille morte.

They say I need to forget him

Forget his face
Forget his kiss
Forger his name
Forget the प्यार that I once knew
Forget how close we once were
Forget how I memorized his walk
Forget how he used to talk

But how can I??
How can I forget him
I loved him....
I still do

But I remember he's with someone knew
I remember he had chosen her
I remember when I cried all night
I remember he's gone
I remember that he's probably
with her tonight in her arms
I remember he's gone......
Forever

Forever.......

My brother's not a werewolf
though it often looks that way.
He has to shave his whiskers
almost every single day.
His feet are getting furry
and his hands are sprouting hair.
His voice is deep and growling
like a grumpy grizzly bear.
He often sleeps throughout the day
and stays up half the night.
And if आप saw the way he eats
you'd surely scream in fright.
His clothes are ripped and dirty
like the stuff a werewolf wears.
His socks and shirts are shredded
and his pants have countless tears.
If आप should ever meet him
you'll discover what I mean.
My brother's not a werewolf;
he's just turning seventeen.