Cycling Through the Cyclonic Impact

entry picture

Clouds gathering up in the sky, 

Collected water rumbling up high

Begins to drop slow and sturdy-straight. 

Legs on the peddles, riding through the puddles, 

He ought to get back home before the hurdles.

His siblings scribbling in his notes and art book, 

Mother waiting for the meat curry to cook. 


The horrendous winds and torrential rains 

Blocking his rear view and the path ahead. 

The high waves were making it more of a hustle

For him to peddle his bicycle, hurry-up and bustle. 

The only easy way out was to reach a higher ground,

So, he moves up to ride along the mountain ridge,

But the view from up there had shook his feet off the edge- 


The rainwater had flooded the town off the ground, 

Rescue boats were scattered with caution sound, 

Some were saved, others luckily caught their breath. 

The boy dart-eyed his house from above and afar 

Highlighted with clothes hanging on the tied-up rope. 

His legs were tamed by the green grassland

To urge down and surge against the calamity. 


A rescue-copter pulls him up from there, 

Flying him to the rescue camps ahead. 

He was dried up, but his mind was still damp, 

His mother and little sisters were missing, 

But learning that they were safe was a blessing. 

The rain consistently poured and welled up, 

And more of camp sites began to swell up.


After a week of water-belting the town, 

The aggressive clouds slowly made way

To the hidden sun, to come out blazing

And shine-dry the watery-murky town. 

The crowd began to move down the ridge, 

To the drying up town, houses turned brown. 

They were home, yet a long way from home. 


The boy rides his cycle, pedals feather-like.  

Along with his family he crosses the bridge

And watches his home soaked and cloaked.

His mother says, 'We've got work to do. Firstly,

Dry chairs to rest after a tiring trudge down the ridge.'

So, they start-off by picking up the clothes off the rope

And hanging up the chairs, thanking the sun’s glares.  



◄ Red

The Ceiling Seemed Like a Sea-Link. ►


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Kevin Tan

Fri 2nd Jun 2023 18:20

Congratulations Manish and enjoy! Life is a gift to be cherished 😀😀😀

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Manish Singh Rajput

Fri 2nd Jun 2023 13:23

Thank you indeed, Matilda, for giving it a read and commenting.🌻

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Matilda Simakaj

Fri 2nd Jun 2023 12:02

Once again, thank you for the feelings your words are dressed up!

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Manish Singh Rajput

Thu 1st Jun 2023 18:03

Dear Kevin,

Today is my birthday, and I'll take your wholesome comment as a blessing. Thanks a lot for your constant support, it truly means a lot to me, my friend.🌻

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Kevin Tan

Thu 1st Jun 2023 16:20

What I find very comforting is your elaborate and evocative language. In fact, it's really quite a feat to put these pictures so vividly into poetry. Used Google Translate for Dutch, to really capture and understand the full meaning. It's a blessing to have you around here. It truly is.

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Manish Singh Rajput

Thu 1st Jun 2023 12:55

Thank you, Stephen G and Uilleam.🌻
We sometimes over-exaggerate things here too, Uilleam. Cheers!

And thanks for the likes y'all. It means a lot to me.🌻

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Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh

Thu 1st Jun 2023 10:20

Well described Manish.
And we complain about a few drops of rain here👍.

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Stephen Gospage

Thu 1st Jun 2023 07:56

A great story, well told, Manish.

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Manish Singh Rajput

Wed 31st May 2023 05:24

Thank you, Hélèna and John.🌻

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John Botterill

Tue 30th May 2023 21:02

A dramatic story told with great panache, Manish. First rate.

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Tue 30th May 2023 16:23

Really good Manish. Calamity, resilience, family, through the eyes of a young boy. Superb.

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