Vienna, Vienna, a city so bright, A beacon of music, of art, and of light...
Poems forever
By Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
By Laiba Zubair
I looked at the sky,
I saw a light,
flying yet static,
divine.
To whom should I show
the view so serene?
No one, God, no one.
To whom should I tell?
The light which burns me,
inside and out,
I am sure I will be gone
with the light
I saw,
flying yet static,
that day
in the darkened sky.
By Abid Agha
Vienna, Vienna, a city so bright,
A beacon of music, of art, and of light.
Where echoes of Mozart drift gently away,
And Beethoven’s symphonies softly relay.
A harmony woven in rhythm and rhyme.
Vienna, Vienna, your heartbeat divine,
Palaces shimmer, their grandeur remains,
Museums and theaters still sing their refrains.
In concert halls, melodies gracefully rise,
A tribute to masters who lit up the skies.
Opera houses stand, proud and tall,
Guarding the legacy that enchants one and all.
Restaurants embrace people of every race
Serving delicacies with care and grace
On tables, the flavour of Vienna delight,
Wiener Schnitzel, so golden and light.
You may not miss a cup of Mélange or Cappuccino
As spicy aromas spread all around in blue,
And oh, the desserts - so rich, so divine,
Apfelstrudel and Sachertorte, taste so fine.
Vienna, Vienna, forever you stand,
A jewel of culture, a wonder so grand.
City of grandeur, of music, of art,
Forever you live in the depth of my heart.
By Umaima Hoorain
When I was younger, I was obsessed with the idea of painting my nails. It was the only thing on my mind all day. I would use markers on my nails, trying out every colour, and then wash them off again and again.
One day, my parents gifted me a nail polish, a pink one, my favourite colour. I was thrilled. They had bought me other things too, but I cared only about that nail polish. I painted my nails all pink and perfect, and I beamed the whole day.
School started the next morning, and my nails still looked beautiful. I was excited until I found out that painted nails were not allowed. All my excitement went down the drain. When I got home, I scrubbed my nails impatiently. The colour would not come off easily. I stood there, scrubbing, until finally it was gone.
Days passed. Weeks passed. Months slipped away. The nail polish sat exactly where I had left it, used only once. I would look at it, wanting to paint my nails again, but school stood in the way, and I did not have the patience to struggle through removing it all over again.
So it stayed in the corner of my mother’s dressing table, a place I adored. Slowly, the excitement faded. The obsession vanished. I stopped caring about nail polish. Life filled my mind with other things, things that seemed more important. The pink nail polish was no longer one of them, as though I had never wanted it at all.
That little girl, once so excited, got caught up in life and forgot what she wanted for herself. And the pink nail polish lay forgotten in the corner of that table.
Life is like that. In the rush of living, you forget the things you once loved.
