Friday, August 9, 2013

A rhyme about RJ Prateeka

Prateeka is a poster girl
She makes us rock and roll.
 
She's like a tigress on the prowl
If you mess with her -- you'd be mauled.
 
She's grit -- she's superbold
For nought -- You'd be bowled.
 
She's a solar car -- she saves money on gas or petrol
If you mispronounce anything -- she'd scold.

She rolls the dice -- turns macho men into mice and charcoal
She's kinda old school.

She'd deftly tinker with her daunting and futuristic console
She loves puppies -- gives 'em sausages -- when they howl and drool.

While talking on the phone -- she'd absent-mindedly scrawl
She is crazy about funky shawls.

Her English has native speaker like drawl
She doesn't like anything foul.

She didn't go to a blackboard jungle -- but to an elite school
She gets miffed and mad if you don't play by the rules.

She loves anything that says bow-wow and woof
She detests guys who cry wolf.

She's a whistle-blower and supercool
Loves to read biographical books and scrolls.

She doesn't like pompous fools
Amongst RJs -- She's a crown jewel.

She seldom frowns
Her favorite color is probably brown.

We live in the same town
She's an egghead and I'm a clown.

Something is terribly wrong
I just can't text her -- that's why I wail and mourn.

My heart beats like a gong
When she hums or sings a song.

I'm smitten and conked
I'm singing hymns like a Buddhist monk.

She's zillions of fans -- Her Facebook page is thronged
But I write rhymes for her and break new ground.

She's strong-willed, assertive and superphenomenon
She's elegance and charisma.

Her voice is otherworldly, angelical and talisman
It's her good karma.

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