English corner: My Poems

English corner: My Poems: "This a short bubbly rhyme written several years ago. It's a simple rhyme picturing a happy bubbly Tibetan girl walking happily dow..."

Love Story of the Snail Queen

 by Tsamchoe

I met the snail queen yesterday.
She had a new crown on.
She led me in her palace.
Down into the earth.
She offered me drinks and meals.
She let me play her golden harp.
A hundred snail maids entertained me,
But the snail queen looked sad…
            “Your majesty,” I then asked.
            “Why this gloom on your pretty face?”
             She shed a silent tear then
             And led me to her private park
            Where beside a tomb she knelt
            And thus related,
“The air was wet and wonderful,
It was the snail-ball last monsoon,
And I met a charming snail prince.
The smartest antenna he had
And I fell for him!
      We danced till the moonlights were gone.
      We walked the snail city arm in arm.
      And that golden harp he gave me then
     (The snail tradition to ask to be wed)
The monsoon feast was our wedding day.
And never more happy were we then!
My maids got me ready.
They curled my antenna,
Coloured my shell
And with this new crown I was adorned!
      Wedding bells had filled the air.
     And the feast had just begun.
     But the prince did not turn up!
     The scouts traced him everywhere
     They blew the emergency horn,
      They put special receptors on
And after hours of search, up and down,
They finally brought his distorted corpse,
While on his way to the wedding,
Two giant feet had squashed him twice!
           My love story,
           The usual snail-story,
           Had just come to an end.”

My Poems

This a short bubbly rhyme written several years ago. It's a simple rhyme picturing a happy bubbly Tibetan girl walking happily down to her favourite sweet shop where she buys yummy candies when she gets her pocket money. Though very simple, it does has an important message in it. Can you find out what that or those are? 

Nangsel
Tsamchoe Netsang

She trotted down the muddy lane,
Her boots soiled and legs in pain,
She held her dolly to her arms,
The penny precious tight in her arms.

She sang her rhymes on and on
As she trotted down and down.
The rains did platter,
But it didn't matter
For Nangsel wouldn't care

Except for the candies so rare.

One for Pala, one for Amala,

One for Peky, one for Zeky

One for the sad boy

who lost his toy.
One each for her buddies
Who love those candies.

p.s. Pala and Amala: repectful way of calling your father and mother in the Tibetan language.
Nangsel: not a typical Tibetan name but not rare either. Means: clarity or clear(in the positive sense of course)