My collection of original, unpublished poems for kids, "To Catch a Poem," was published in March, 2022 by Ukiyoto Publishing. The book contains over one hundred poems in more than twenty five poetic forms and rhyme schemes. The book is available as a paper back on Amazon & Flipkart and e-book kindle form on GooglePlay Smashwords, and in hardback from the Ukiyoto store.

Two of my poems for children appear in this international anthology of poetry, 'Ravishing Rhapsodists,' edited by Manjushree Sardesh pande, and published by The Impish Lass Publishing House, Mumbai. November 2022

Read my original, unpublished poems for children on my Instagram Poetry Page I wrote a poem called 'I Wish,' and published it on my Instagram poetry page lottle_kids_poetry on 16th September, 2021. In January 2022, the poem was published by 'FamilyFriendPoems,' one of the best known, and longest running American online poetry publishers. In December 2024, my poem 'I Wish' was read by school students at the Chicago Poetry Center, and used to inspire children to think about, and write poems about their own wishes, as the holiday season was about to start. The best thing about being a writer is that you never know where your work will go - when you are a writer, your words sometimes have wings...

Read my original, unpublished poems for children on my Instagram Poetry Page I wrote a poem called 'I Wish,' and published it on my Instagram poetry page lottle_kids_poetry on 16th September, 2021. In January 2022, the poem was published by 'FamilyFriendPoems,' one of the best known, and longest running American online poetry publishers. In December 2024, my poem 'I Wish' was read by school students at the Chicago Poetry Center, and used to inspire children to think about, and write poems about their own wishes, as the holiday season was about to start. The best thing about being a writer is that you never know where your work will go - when you are a writer, your words sometimes have wings...

Read my original, unpublished poems for children on my Instagram Poetry Page I wrote a poem called 'I Wish,' and published it on my Instagram poetry page lottle_kids_poetry on 16th September, 2021. In January 2022, the poem was published by 'FamilyFriendPoems,' one of the best known, and longest running American online poetry publishers. In December 2024, my poem 'I Wish' was read by school students at the Chicago Poetry Center, and used to inspire children to think about, and write poems about their own wishes, as the holiday season was about to start. The best thing about being a writer is that you never know where your work will go - when you are a writer, your words sometimes have wings...

CLOUDS Whenever I get time to stretch out on the grass, And look up at the clouds drifting by, I wonder, what must it be like for them To live miles above in the great blue sky? I'm sure it must be fun for them, of course, To watch the Sun wake up each day. And when night time comes, I'll bet, That they enjoy their special view of the Milky Way! I know that clouds like to play as well, For I often see them chasing each other across the sky. I think they like to play at make believe too- For they sometimes change into the strangest shapes when they're up there, so high! But I wonder how the puffy white clouds feel, When aeroplanes tear through them with a noisy roar Do they tremble anxiously and cover their ears? Or are they so used to it, that they don't mind anymore? I wonder if the clouds hum and sing along with the birds, That fly alongside them through day and night. Do they ever wish that they could wear shady hats? To shield their eyes from the Sun's bright light? Copyright Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without permission of the author The Waterford Institute is a nonprofit research center in the USA that creates award-winning curriculum, ontent for children. To celebrate the 25th anniversary of National Poetry Month in April 2021, Waterford celebrated by presenting 50 well-known children's poems - 25 for elementary-aged children and 25 for middle and high school-aged children on their website www.waterford.org on April 1st, 2021. This poem 'Clouds' was one of the twenty-five well known poems chosen for elementary school children.

SOMEDAY Many people I know make lists all the time - They list all the things they mustn't forget to do. They make shopping lists, and birthdays to remember lists, And lists of important telephone numbers too. But the lists that I make once in a way, After I've had time to think matters through, Are quite unlike any of these, you know, For my lists are full of wonderful things that I hope, someday to do! Someday, I'll buy a rocket, and zoom to outer space, I'll visit Venus, Jupiter and Mars. I'll make stopovers at every planet I see, To check if I can find new, undiscovered stars. Someday, I'll dive to the bottom of the sea, To hunt for mermaids with long, green tails. On my way down, I'll swim with dolphins, And listen to the songs of the humpback whales. Someday, I'll fly one hundred kites Up into the blue sky, all at once! As they flutter and leap and dance, I'll make them perform the most incredible stunts! Someday 'll own a houseful of pets, For I'll adopt every creature who rolls a friendly eye at me. Gosh! As you read all the things on my wonderful lists, Don't you see what fun 'someday' is going to be? Copyright Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author.

SHOPPING FOR SHOES As a centipede strolled past a shoe shop one morning, He happened to pause, and look in. The shop was crammed with shoes from the floor to the ceiling, There were more shoes than the little creature had ever seen. "This is just the place for me!" he cried, And his eyes were filled with delight. "There are hundreds of pairs of shoes here to be tried, So I'm sure something will fit me just right! So he climbed onto a stool, and sat himself down, Then stretched all his hundred feet out. To the salesman, he cried, "I need fifty pairs of shoes to wear about town, So bring all your best wares out! The shoes must be smart and durable," he said, "So that I can wear them when I'm at work and at play. I'd prefer them to be in pink, yellow, blue, or red, Without zips or laces to get in the way! For I don't have the time to do up one hundred shoe laces, Or to unravel the knots in them too. And when I'm out, visiting important place A jammed up zipper just will not do! I can't wear high heels either, for fear, That they'd make me trip, and have a big fall. But soft velvet shoes are comfortable, I hear, So I wouldn't mind those at all! Perhaps you can show me shoes that glitter and glow, Or some that are trimmed with fine lace? Do you have anything with a satin bow, Or track shoes that will help me to race? " I'm sorry sir," said the salesman with a frown, Although you've been very polite and precise, I regret to tell you that in this town, You'll never find one hundred shoes in your SIZE!" Copyright Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author This poem was first published in "Just Imagine Stories and Poems,' Madhuban Educational Books, 2002

JUST IMAGINE If crocodiles had to brush their teeth, The way I do, every morning and night. Just imagine the number of toothbrushes they'd need, To keep all those rows of teeth sparkling white! If elephants had to use handkerchiefs, Every time they sneezed, or had a bad cold. Just imagine how many hankies they'd have, To wash, and iron and fold! If giraffes had to wear ties around their necks, Like I do to school every day. Just imagine how long those ties would be, And how they'd dangle, and flutter, and sway! If centipedes had to wear boots with laces, All fastened, and tied up tight. Just imagine what a tangle of legs there'd be, If just one of those laces wasn't done up right! If children like me had wings like birds, With which we could fly, and soar up high. Just imagine how many children there'd be, Zooming about in the sky! Copyright Santhini Govindan - Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author

GUARDIAN ANGEL I know that each one of us has a guardian angel, An angel who watches over us night and day. Sometimes I wonder where my guardian angel lives, And if we should meet, what would she say? Perhaps she'll ask me why I make such long lists of wishes, That I hope she will grant me, one by one. Maybe she'll ask me to shorten my lists, please, Because even overworked angels need some free time for fun! Maybe she'll explain why, if things don't always work out for me, The way I'd hoped they would. I should remember that even angels can be forgetful sometimes, When they have more to do than they should! I'll surely ask my angel if she bounces up and down on the clouds, Or slides down the pretty rainbows I sometimes see in the sky. I do hope that she'll be so pleased to talk to me at last, That she'll promise to teach me to fly. Copyright Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author This poem was first published in "Just Imagine Stories and Poems,' Madhuban Educational Books, 2002

Though Mr. Turtle often opens his front door and peers out, He never sets a foot outside his little home. In fact, wherever he goes, he carries it about - A little brown shell, shaped like a dome. Since he's always at home, I'm sure Mr. Turtle's home must be, A really cosy and comfortable place. How I wish I could just peep in and see, How he has filled up his own little space! I wonder if he has an armchair, snug and deep, And perhaps a small table and chair on which to dine. Maybe he reads in the armchair before he falls asleep, In a soft bed, lined with sheets so fine. I wonder if Mr. Turtle has hung paintings on his walls, And if he's got curtains to shut away the glare of the Sun. But I guess this is something I will never know at all - For Mr. Turtle's house has got room for just one! First published in Just Imagine - Stories and Poems, Vikas Publishing House, 2002.

I know that monsters are scary creatures, Who can terrify and frighten people so, But there's something about little monsters That I really want to know. I wonder if monsters have mommies, Just like my friends and I do? And what are monsters' mommies like? How I wish I knew! I wonder if monsters' mommies wake little monsters up, In the morning, when they want to sleep on, Do monsters' mommies holler, "Hurry up! Hurry up!" When their small monsters stretch lazily, and yawn? Do monsters' mommies help out with homework? When there are pages and pages to complete? And when the homework is finally finished, Do monsters' mommies give their little monsters a treat? Do monsters' mommies read bedtime stories to little monsters, Before the lights are put off? And I wonder, do monsters' mommies give them nasty medicine, When they have fever, or a cough? I know that monsters, being monsters, Are supposed to be brave, and without fear, But do little monsters sometimes feel afraid, And want their mommies to be near? Do monsters' mommies scold their little ones, When they say things that are quite untrue? And do monsters' mommies make cakes and sweets For little monsters' birthdays, just like our mommies do? Do monsters' mommies sometimes give little monsters, A kiss and a cuddle too, When monsters' mommies want to tell little monsters Those magic words - 'I love you.'

Ani, all of eight months old, Had just learnt how to crawl. She set out happily on all fours; Eagerly propelling forward her body so small. But as she set out speedily to explore, Some of the interesting things she could see, Ani suddenly stopped, sat down on the floor, And looked around, rather worriedly. After a moment, she decided to set off once more, Crawling along on her chubby little hands and knees, But once again, she stopped, and stared at the floor - A strange black object was following her, she could see. It moved when she did, and stopped when she did, And loomed menacingly over her little head. Ani's face puckered - she was ready to cry; Something was chasing her, and it filled her with dread. But suddenly, in a burst of bravery, she stuck out her tiny foot, And tried to kick the black object firmly away, But alas! It didn't budge, and instead, Ani's mama began to smile; Ani bawled - couldn't mama see the fearful, black thing in her way? Why was mama laughing? Ani just couldn't understand. Ani was frightened - something was definitely amiss; Then mama came forward, her arms outstretched, "The black monster will disappear if I give you a kiss..."

My old mobile phone stopped working a few weeks ago. Clutching it in my hands, to the repair shop I did go. The repairman shook his head, and told me with a sigh, "This mobile phone's life is over - a new one you must buy. A smart phone is undoubtedly the best one for you - There's just nothing that a smart phone can't do!" But when I tried eagerly, to make my first call, I found that I couldn't work my smart phone at all. Its touch screen was locked, and I couldn't remember the key, To open my smart phone which was so user unfriendly. I couldn't figure out how to send sms and e-mails too, I was so dismayed that I didn't know what to do. My snazzy new smart phone seemed to be, Determined to confuse and confound me. As I struggled to use it, I let out a mournful cry, "Why did my dear, old faithful mobile phone have to die?" Published in The English Marvel Coursebook 4, Madhubun Educational Books, 2015.

"Come grandpa," I shout. "Let's have a race! I know of course, that you can't match my pace. But I'll slow down just a bit - (not enough to let you win though) But we can see just how fast we can go. What's that you're saying? You're too old to run? I don't agree, grandpa dear - running is so much fun. I love to pound the driveway with my feet, and feel the wind blow, And mama says running helps me to grow. Grandpa, why don't you just turn off the switch in your head that makes you feel old? Then, start running with all your might - be fearless and bold! I'm sure you'll have such great fun, grandpa, all you have to do is agree, To forget you're old, and have a running race with me!"

What language do dragons speak? The answer to this important question I must find out, For if ever I meet a dragon, I'll want to speak to him without a doubt. I must find out in which language I must ask, A dragon all the things that I want to know - And I hope the dragon will understand my accent; I'll make sure of course, that my words come out slow. Will the dragon speak English, Hindi, French, or Greek? If you have ever spoken to a dragon, will you please tell me, How did you communicate with the dragon? In which language did you speak to him? Then, I'll get ready. If I have to learn a new language, I must prepare And it's better that I start learning it right away - Because in case I ever meet a dragon, I must be quite sure of what to say!

Mama says that there's a Corona virus, Called Covid -19 prowling around, And it's one of the meanest, and most dangerous Viruses that has ever been found. It's attacking people in small villages, towns, And large cities in almost every country on Earth, This evil virus is making many people very ill, As it spreads around, and goes back and forth. The virus has shut down all the schools in my city; The parks, malls, restaurants and theatres are closed. There's no traffic on the road - no cabs, cars or buses Because a nationwide lockdown has been imposed. But one of my teeth feels loose - it's quite wobbly - I feel that it may come out in a day or two. I am worried - will the tooth fairy be affected By the lockdown - or will she be able to get through? After Mama assured me that the lockdown won't bother The tooth fairy, I am filled with relief and delight; I won't miss getting a present from the tooth fairy after all, Because the lockdown won't hinder the tooth fairy's flight! But I'll be careful to wash my tooth carefully before, I put it under my pillow at night, And I'll take care to leave a small bottle Of hand sanitizer within the dear tooth fairy's sight. I'll leave a note for the dear tooth fairy, Telling her to wash her hands to keep the mean virus away, And I'll tell her that she's welcome to take the hand sanitizer, With her - I hope it will protect her as she goes on her way! (c) Santhini Govindan

A concept poem to teach opposites - twenty pairs of opposites ANTS BUILD A HOME An army of busy ants, decided one day, Not to idle, and build a home where they could all stay. All the ants, both young and old, started to dig tunnels underground, They were not slow - they moved fast to pile the mud they dug out, into a mound. The ants ran up and down, to the left and the right, They ran forward and backward, as they worked through the day and night. The tiny ants worked hard, hoping to build a huge place, To live in when they were asleep or awake - a home with lots of space. While some ants remained in the growing mound, others marched out, To search for twigs, bits of rough grass, and smooth sand lying about. They marched in front of stones, and behind the knobbly roots of trees, They marched under heavy rocks, and over piles of light, dried up leaves. When the ants returned from far and near, with all the things they had found, They continued to add to their home, without making a sound. In places where the mud walls were weak, the ants made them strong, They built rooms for many of their activities, and a few passages that were long. The ants, always hardworking, and never lazy, finally built a big home for themselves to stay; It was a splendid anthill, in which they could happily work, and play! (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without permission of the author

THE BEST LEAVES "My leaves are the finest!" exclaimed the banana tree, "They're as large as an elephant's ears, you see. At mealtimes, they are used as fresh, natural leaf platters." The coconut palm said, "I don't think that matters. Though my leaves are thin and very long, They're surely the best. They're so strong. My leaves make toys, brooms, hats and mats. They're used to thatch roofs - what can be better than that?" My lovely leaves are special," the henna tree said with pride. "They give off such a lovely colour after they are dried. Henna from my leaves is used in such a wonderful way, To decorate and adorn hands and feet on a festive day." "Hmm," said a neem tree, shaking its leafy green head, "I've listened carefully to everything the other trees have said. My leaves are used to make oil and medicines, so they're the best. I'm certain that my leaves are Mother Nature's finest." "I disagree," said the curry tree haughtily, raising its tone, "Your leaves may be popular, but you are not alone. My curry leaves are healthy, and I must tell you, That putting my leaves in any dish adds such flavour too." The little tea bush said, "All this boasting is making me tired. Don't you know that my tiny leaves are the world's most My leaves are the only ones in the world, you see, That can be brewed, to make the world's most popular drink - (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without permission of the author

EXAM PANIC I got up this morning, feeling quite ill. I think I have a fever and a chill. I can feel butterflies in my tummy, My legs are shaking just like jelly. There's a terrible ache in my head - The whites of my eyes are turning red. I think I'm getting a rash on my face - My pulse is really beginning to race. My throat is sore - I can barely speak, My knees feel extremely weak. I feel dizzy - my head seems to spin, There are goose bumps all over my skin. My heart is pounding in my breast, I feel a tightness in my chest. When I complained that I felt sick, Mom took me to the doctor, double quick. "Dr," I said, "I feel just terrible. "The discomfort I have is just unbearable. Do you want to keep me here to run some tests? Or do you think I need a week's bed rest? X-ray my chest if that's what you need to do; I don't even mind getting a jab or two." The doctor shook his head, and said with a smile, "I see complaints like yours once in a while. Your ailments will soon vanish without medicines - so don't be vexed. But they might reappear when your examinations come around next!" (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without permission of the author

PASSWORD PUZZLES The problem with my laptop, smart phone, and other gizmos Is that every single one, Needs a password for every Internet log in; These passwords spoil all the fun. Making a password doesn't seem complicated - The instructions always say, 'Use a symbol, digit, capital letter, and lower case, And don't use your initials, address, or birthday. If you use the same password in too many places, The nasty hackers will break in, So, make sure your password is so complicated and unique, That hackers can't figure it out, and win. Remember that your password Must be changed every month or two, For the safety of all your accounts, This is something you must do.' When I first created a brilliant, complicated password, I was astonished, and a little shaken, When a message popped up on my screen - 'This password is already taken!' I hurriedly rearranged all the letters and numbers, To make another password so clever; That I was certain that no hacker would Be able to figure it out, ever. I skillfully invented many new passwords - They were original, bright, and witty, But in my haste to put them into use, I did not note them down - more's the pity! I soon forgot all my clever passwords, And had to reset them again, you know. In my agitation, I forgot some of my user names too, To add to my misery and woe. I wish someone would think of a password That would let me log into the memory cells in my brain - So I can retrieve all my forgotten passwords, Instead of resetting them, time and time again. (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without permission of the author

MY KIND OF ADVENTURE SPORT Mountaineering, rock climbing, and bungee jumping are not for me - These adventure sports are much too arduous, you see. Kayaking, white water rafting, and hang gliding don't fill me with delight- In fact, the thought of trying them out makes me tremble with fright. But if there's one sport that I yearn to try, It's hot air ballooning through the wide, open sky. Hot air balloons are truly marvellous inventions, They fly without wings, propellers, or noisy engines. They don't need seat belts and aeroplane windows - They just drift along as the wind blows. A hot air balloon seems to fly like magic - As soon as its burner heats up an envelope of fabric. I like the thought of standing in a basket in the sky, And looking down at towns and valleys as I float by. I'd like to skim over rivers, and brush over treetops tall, And not worry about whether I'm going to fall - I'd like to feel the wind blowing over my face and hair, As my hot air balloon soars through the air. It's no wonder that hot air ballooning makes me so enthusiastic - As an adventure sport - it seems just fantastic! It needs no pushing or pulling, or raving and ranting, Or straining long unused muscles, and panting. It doesn't require tough preparation, and special gear, And the rides won't make me dizzy, or fill me with fear - Marvellous hot air balloons have no controls over which I'll have to ponder - They'll just take me straight up into the great blue yonder! (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without permission of the author

A 'DIGI' MISTAKE When I held my first digital camera in my hands, I was very excited, and made many grand plans. I dreamt of becoming a photographer beyond compare - One who shot images exquisite and rare. The manual that came with my digicam was easy to figure out; The instructions left me in no doubt. My digicam didn't need photo film, chemicals, or a dark room; It would take perfect photographs with its digital zoom! I just had to point my camera and click, In an instant I could view my photo - it was that quick. But my first pictures were hazy and blurry - Did my hands shake in my hurry? Or had I foolishly placed, My fingers over the lens in my eager haste? I clicked again, but let out a frustrated shout - The charge of my digicam's batteries had run out! I gnashed my teeth - I was getting really vexed. I wondered what my digicam would do next. But, after several more tries, I let out a whoop of delight - The photographs I had taken were sharp, clear, and bright. They weren't filled with shadows, or patches of white light; And it seemed that finally, I'd got my camera angles right! But when I tried to admire my photos again, my hands began to shake - My photos were missing - I'd pressed the 'delete' button by mistake! (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without permission of the author

THE LAND OF I FORGOT My mother says I'm careless, and too forgetful of my things. But however hard I try, there'll always be something missing! My pencils and pens vanish without a trace, I keep them safe, but they're never n the same place. My water bottles and lunch-boxes always seem to be left behind, I search so hard for them, but they are impossible to find. "Where are your things?" Mother cries in a loud, angry shout. And very quietly, I can only say, "I forgot. I forgot..." I often sit and wonder where all my lost things are - Perhaps they're all in a mysterious land, somewhere afar. In a magical place called the 'Land of I Forgot,' A place where we can find everything we've ever lost! What an interesting place the Land of I Forgot must be! With hundreds and hundreds of lost things to see! Forgotten pencils and pens, and lunch boxes and water bottles abound. There are lost purses, spectacles, and umbrellas that have never been found! And the pleasantest thing about the Land of I Forgot, Is the fact that no one minds if you are forgetful or not! Someday, I'm going to go there, and have a look around. And who knows what wonderful treasures of mine are there to be found? Perhaps I'll return with a sackful of things I've lost before. Can you imagine mother's face as she meets me at the door? "Where did you get them?" she will cry, as my things all tumble out And for once, I'll not have to say, "I forgot. I forgot!" But till I get a chance to go to that magical land afar, Things will probably be just the way they are! "Where are your things?" Mother will regularly cry out with a shout. And I can only sigh and say, "I forgot! I forgot!" (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without permission of the author

THE DRAGON'S RAGE When Mother Earth was young, long long ago, She held strange beasts that wandered to and fro. Like the long, scaly dragon with huge snapping jaws, Wings on his back, and fearsome claws. When he breathed, hot tongues of fire from his mouth he blew, And he had live coals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner too! Through dense forests, deep valleys and grassy hills the dragon did roam, He was happy and free in his wide, open home. So the dragon lived, and rejoiced as the ages passed, But change crept into the dragon's dream world at last. As the number of people living on Mother Earth's face grew and grew, So did the hamlets and little villages too. The trees in the dragon's beloved forests were all cut down, To make way for new buildings, factories, and towns. The dragon was dismayed - he had no place to stay, So he retreated to the mountains far, far away. He dug himself into a cave, many fathoms deep, And closing his eyes wearily, decided to have a long lingering sleep. When the dragon awoke from his slumber at last, Many moons and seasons had swiftly sped past. He peeped out from his cave, hoping eagerly to find, Once more, the idyllic land he had long left behind. Instead he saw crowded cities and ugly factories making a crescendo of sound, Wrathfully, the dragon withdrew - his rage knew no bounds! Breathing fire, he roared fearfully, and the mountain began to rumble and shake, The earth trembled and was cleaved in a mighty EARTHQUAKE! Finally, when he'd shattered rocks and boulders with his anger most foul, The dragon returned to sleep, with a long sorrowful howl. Deep beneath that mountain, the smouldering dragon still does stay- Who knows what will happen, should he crawl out one day? (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without permission of the author

SHOOTING STAR Whenever I see a shooting star, Whizzing across the dark night sky, I marvel at its beauty from afar, And wonder what is it doing, and why? Could the shooting star be a happy star, Trying to turn cartwheels in the sky? Or could it be just an adventurous star That's decided to try and learn to fly? Perhaps it's a star that's got bored of its place High up in the crowded Milky Way. Maybe that's why it's trying to race, To find another galaxy in which to stay! Or could a shooting star just be, A lonely star in search of a friend who'll be true? So perhaps if I get a shooting star to notice me - I'll soon be whizzing through the Milky Way too! (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without permission of the author

THE CAMEL He has no beauty in his long, bony face, Nor much grace in his clumsy body too, But this beast with a hump never ceases to amaze, Beholders with one wonderful thing it can do! Which other creature can live for forty long nights and days, Without any food, or a drop of water to drink? Mysterious indeed are the camel's ways, If we pause for a moment to think! He's not at all choosy, nor does he care, About the flavours of the food he gets to eat. He swallows everything whole, but later takes care, To chew it all up with his huge white teeth! But if he sounds like an ideal guest- One who's not greedy, and who doesn't fuss, I think you'd better hear all the rest About him- things you'd never guess! He's willful and obstinate when he wants his way. He's been known to bite, and kick and spit. So, if you're thinking of inviting him to stay, I'd advise you to think it over a little bit! (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without permission of the author

WHAT IS A GOOGOL? Have you ever heard of a Googol? I'm not surprised that you say, 'no'! For Googol seems to be a word, That very few people know! What kind of word is it, you ask? It does sound rather strange - Is a Googol a bird or an animal? Or a monster hidden on a mountain range? Could it be an enormous dinosaur, That lived millions of years ago? Or perhaps, a Googol is a dragon, A fierce, fire-breathing fellow? Could a Googol be something magical, Like a fairy, or a gnome, or an elf? Why, let me tell you the answer Since you don't know it yourself. A Googol is just a NUMBER, But it's the biggest one we know - It has EXACTLY ONE HUNDRED ZEROES, Following one another, all in a row! It's bigger than a million, or a billion, And trillion too, for you see - A Googol is quite simply the largest That a number can ever be! Now since you know what a Googol is, Why don't you have some fun? Try writing one down on a piece of paper - One hundred zeroes - ONE BY ONE! (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author

THINGS I'D LIKE TO KNOW Our garden is full of wonderful trees, And I just love to watch them grow. But there are still so many things about them, That I'd really like to know. Do trees stretch their limbs the way we do, Do they sometimes long to sit down to rest their feet? And when the fierce summer sun beats down on them all day, Don't they wish that they too could hide indoors to beat the heat? I'm sure that trees must feel cold when gusty autumn winds, Tear away their leaves and leave their branches bare - I wonder if they ever think about how it would feel, If they too had a nice shawl or sweater to wear! I'm sure that trees must sometimes feel very sad, When the air that they breathe is not fresh and clean. But I like to think that when spring comes, trees sway and rejoice, For they know it's time for them to dress up and be green! (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce without the permission of the author

SNAKE He slithers around our garden on his belly, And makes not a single sound. But almost everyone I know, Dislikes having him around! I wonder what it is about him, That makes everyone scream and shout? He seems a harmless fellow really, Who might like a friend when he's about. But I hear that he has a bag of poison, That he carries with him wherever he goes; And he has two sharp, pointed fangs too, To bite with, if you get too close! He seems a lonesome kind of chap, So perhaps I should just let him be... If he really needs a friend after all, I don't think its going to be me! (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author.

GRANDFATHER THUNDER When I hear grandfather Thunder's voice, As he calls out from his home in the clouds, I wish I could ask grandfather Thunder - Why does your voice always sound so angry and so loud? And why is it, grandfather Thunder, that I hear your voice, Only on dark, gloomy days when the sky is grey? Perhaps you wouldn't sound so very cross, If you were to call out instead on a warm, sunny day! And if you were to make friends with the Wind, grandfather Thunder, Maybe he could teach you to whistle a tune or two. And if he is able to make you a little less cross, Perhaps then, I'll not be so scared every time I hear you! (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author.

MR MANGO At the beginning of summer, you appear on my favourite tree, Wearing a little green jacket that's buttoned up tight. And though you're as delicate and as tiny as can be, You cling to your little branch with all your might! As the days pass, the flaming sun's rays, Caress you gently, and encourage you to grow. As you bask in the warmth of long, summer days, Your little green jacket turns to gold, and glows. Your body grows plump and soft and round, And smells deliciously sweet too, I find. A juicier, tastier mango on my tree, I'm sure I've never found- So I'm going to gobble you up, Mr. Mango- hope you don't mind! (c) Santhini Govindan - Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author This poem was first published in "Just Imagine Stories and Poems," Madhuban Educational Books, 2002

A GREAT DESSERT My tummy is very full, so at any rate, I cannot eat a single morsel more from my plate. If I'm forced to finish my vegetables, my tummy will detonate, I won't be able to finish them even if I pause and wait. There are more vegetables on my plate than my meal did necessitate, If I try to eat them, my tummy ache they will surely aggravate. You put too many vegetables on my plate, mama. You did miscalculate. Next time before you serve me, please think and evaluate. What's that you're saying mama? You're sorry that my tummy can't accommodate, The dessert of ice-cream and gulab jamuns you wanted to serve on my plate? Ha! Ha! I was only joking, mama. You know how I like to exaggerate I'm going to finish my vegetables in a trice - so please don't hesitate, To spoon a generous serving of ice-cream and gulab jamuns onto my plate - My mouth is already watering - I'm sure dessert will taste just great! This poem is a monorhyme. The term describes the use of one type of repetitious sound, or rhyme, at the end of each line. (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author.

THE GNU At first glance, the gnu seems such an unremarkable creature, That we assume he's an ordinary antelope or deer. But he has one interesting and amazing feature, That makes all these assumptions disappear. Beneath his chin, he sports a fine little beard, Its soft tufts may be black or snowy white. Perhaps he wears it so that he may be respected and revered, By all the other animals that come within his sight. But there's one thing about him I wish I knew- Who gave him a funny name like GNU? (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author

WHERE DO YOU GO AT NIGHT, MR. SUN? I know that you shine brightly during the day, And then go to bed each night. But dear Mr. Sun, where do you stay, When you disappear from our sight? Do you have your own bed in the clouds so high, With a blanket to pull over your head? Do you and the moon have pillow fights in the sky, When I'm asleep in my bed? (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author

GRAVITY Yesterday at school, I learnt something new. It sounded so strange that I thought it must be untrue. My teacher taught us about gravity, an extraordinary force, That holds the universe together, and keeps the planets on course. "Gravity," teacher said, "keeps things in their proper place. It keeps people, buildings, air, and water from floating into space. When you throw a ball up into the air, gravity makes it fall to the ground. Gravity, nature's invisible, most dominant force, works without a sound." After I learnt about gravity, I was filled with great wonder, The amazing things that gravity did, really made me ponder. It's gravity that makes fruits from trees fall to the ground, Instead of rolling into the sky, never to be found. It's gravity that helps me to have a shower every day; Without gravity, my bathwater would levitate, and glide away. The Moon orbits around Earth because of gravity's power; Gravity grabs rocks from a passing comet to bring a meteor shower. I'm glad I know so much about gravity, but now I'm worried too - If the force of gravity vanishes one day, what will I do? I'm terrified that I'll soar into the air, and float into space, And land on another star, in a scary, cold, dark place. I asked Mama about this, but she just laughed and said, "No. No. That's never going to happen, so don't you worry so." But I'm still not fully convinced, and hope that Mama's right, If she's not - I can't bear to think of my plight! (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author

IF EVER If ever I have lots of money to spend Perhaps even a billion or two - I won't have any problems in spending it at all, Because I've already decided what exactly I'll do! I won't invest in boring stocks and shares, Or in diamonds and fancy cars, I'll buy myself a tropical jungle instead, In an exotic land somewhere afar. I'll ride through the jungle on elephant back, And say hello to every creature I meet, And if some of them turn unfriendly, I won't be scared, For I'll be very safe, perched high up on my lofty seat! I won't buy a private airplane or a fine yacht, To travel around the way rich folks usually do, I'll buy an enormous hot air balloon instead, And visit every land the balloon chances to float to! I'll buy a big chocolate factory somewhere, And maybe a sprawling amusement park too. And if I still have some money left over, Perhaps I'll share some of it with you! This poem was first published in "Just Imagine - Stories & Poems" by Santhini Govindan Madhubun Books, Vikas Publishing House Limited, New Delhi, 2002. (c) Santhini Govindan. This poem cannot be reproduced without the permission of the author.

THE OCTOPOET An octopus sat upon the ocean bed He had an important matter to think through With eight long arms, and a big round head What kind of work should he do He didn't want a job that was commonplace Or one that would soon become a bore, The octopus wanted to fill his days, With an occupation to make his spirits soar! After discussions with other creatures of the sea, And thinking it over long and hard, The octopus knew just what he wanted to be - He'd become a poet - a lyricist- a bard! He was sure that there were wonderful verses in his mind, And eight arms could jot them down double quick. So, he brought gallons of ink and hurried to find, A smooth rock on which to write with a stick. But alas! Though the enthusiastic poet was ready to write, With all his eight eager hands stretched out, The Muse to inspire him was nowhere in sight, So, he couldn't think of anything to write about. But the octopus wasn't giving up - no, not at all! He decided it would be best for him to wait, Till the elusive muse gave him a call, And he would write poetry that was truly first rate! Though ages have passed, the octopus still waits, His despair and anger have slowly grown. If anyone questions him about his terrible state, He'll squirt out gallons of ink, and moan! So, if you ever meet an octopus, you mustn't stay, For he'll spray you too, with his sticky black ink. It's best to ignore him, and move far away. And leave him to just sit and think! This poem was first published in "Just Imagine - Stories & Poems" by Santhini Govindan Madhubun Books, Vikas Publishing House Limited, New Delhi, 2002. (c) Santhini Govindan. This poem cannot be reproduced without the permission of the author.

FOXED BY THOSE STRIPES At a waterhole, in a jungle far away, A fox met a zebra, one bright summer's day. "Mr. Zebra," said the fox, "I have a question for you. I hope that you will try and answer it too. It's a question that's puzzled me from the time we first met - I haven't been able to think up the answer myself yet. Do you have a black body, Mr. Zebra, and are your stripes white? Or is your body all white, covered with stripes as black as night?" After the zebra had refreshed himself with a cool drink, He creased his brow and began to think. When at last he spoke, his words were wise. "Mr. Fox," he said, "let me give you some advice. Why do you worry whether my stripes are black or white? To me it doesn't matter - they seem just right! And beneath all my stripes, Mr. Fox, can't you see? That the creature there is just the same me?" (c) Santhini Govindan - Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author

GROWN UP TALK Grown-up talk really puzzles me - At times it really makes me rather cross too. I wish I could understand why grownups like to speak, In the strange way they often do! I've found that when they say 'later-later', It really means 'go away and don't bother me now.' And I've discovered that when grownups say 'perhaps.' They want to say 'no', but don't seem to know how! So that's why I've decided, after some thought, That when I become a grown up too, I'll give every question that is put to me, An answer that is completely honest and true. So, if someone were to ask me, 'can we have ice-cream for dinner?' I won't ever hum and haw and say 'not now'. I'll just clap, and say 'of course', Without batting an eyelid, or raising a brow! And if I'm asked 'can we go to the zoo, Instead of going to school today? I'll smile happily and say 'certainly'- In the twinkling of an eye, we'll be on our way! And if I'm ever asked whether I like homework, I won't shrug, and reply with a polite 'maybe' I'll shake my head, firmly and say - 'No, not at all!' in a loud voice full of glee! (c) Santhini Govindan - Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author

SHOPPING FOR TIME If there was a wonderful store somewhere That we could step into to buy time, I'd be a regular customer there, you know, Because I'm always running short of time! I'd buy small packages of five or ten extra minutes- They'd help me to stretch my hours a little more, And linger lazily in my bed in the mornings For just a few precious minutes more. I'd surely buy some lazy Sunday afternoons, And lots of sunny summer days too. But I'm sure that I won't buy any Monday mornings- They remind me of all the work ahead for me to do! (c) Santhini Govindan Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author

The abecedarian is an ancient poetic form guided by alphabetical order. Generally, each line or stanza begins with the first letter of the alphabet, and is followed by the successive letter, until the final letter is reached. Here is an abecedarian for you to read and enjoy. ANTS Ants, Bearing Crumbs, Deftly, Each day, From Great distances Hurry, hurry In never ending lines. Journeying determinedly, they Keep faith, knowing that empty Larders and hungry Mouths await them at home! Never shirking Or stopping to Pause or rest, Quietly and Resolutely they Stride along. Together, United, they Vanquish foes, and Wage wars to win X-tra morsels for their Young ones to enjoy with Zest! (c) Santhini Govindan - Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author

WAITING Waiting for Diwali and for my birthday, Always seems to take so very long. When I'm waiting it seems as if each new day, With very tiny steps, just creeps along. Then why is it that once these big days are over, And all the waiting is finally done. I actually miss ticking the days off on my calendar. Was the anticipation of waiting really half the fun? (c) Santhini Govindan - Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author

THE BEST TONGUE OF ALL A giraffe's tongue is one and a half feet long, How strange that sounds to me! If a giraffe could lick an ice-cream cone, Just think how big those licks would be! The chameleon is just a tiny chap, Who changes his colour upon a whim. But when he flicks out his little tongue, It's twice as long as him! The snake has a tongue with a fork at its end, So he always dines in great style - The frog uses his tongue to catch flies, And the dog's tongue seems to be lolling out all the while. But I think my pink tongue is best of all, Small and ordinary though it seems to be - For none of these tongues can chatter and talk, Except the one that belongs to me! (c) Santhini Govindan - Please do not reproduce this poem without the permission of the author