Nature

Nature is a good teacher
Wonderful, beautiful green nature
Hurt is made by the man of the future
Nature has many creatures kind

Some wonderful sounds come from trees
Birds which make nature’s sounds free

After the rain showers
Multi coloured butterflies play on the flowers
Please do not destroy nature
Because it gives life to live in the future

Shivani Mirajkar,
VII std, St. Joesph’s High School, Dharwad

Stars

There was a sunset,
And there was a moonrise
The stars shone brightly in the sky
Like diamods in the sky
I think they are the babies of the moon
But they won’t rise in the sunny noon
The white, the bright small stars,
In the middle of the black sky
The colour of a star is only white
But they won’t look big from far
I don’t understand what is their aim
They play in nature a wonderful game

R. Anuradha, Best School, Bellary

Mother

Mother is my first teacher
Who gave me birth
On this beautiful earth
She shares with me;
She cares for me
She gives me a solution
when I have an examination
She has a glow on her face
when I have a number of awards
.... in my showcase
My best friend is my mother
And she will be my friend forever

Shivani Mirajkar,
 VII std, St. Joseph’s High School

The silent traveller

All around him is silence
He’s the only one far away from the world of violence
Deeply enchanted by life
He doesn’t even remember if he has a wife
Sits alone in the world of men
His only companion is his pen
He’s a spider, weaving his web
His thoughts are spinning at the point of his nib
He looks through this world as a toyland
He’s the  creator of this poetic dreamland
He’s as romantic as any mountain god
He’s as strong as any army man
Only that his rifle is his pen
He dwells there where his creativity dwells
On a lonely rock, he sits gazing at the world
This world to him is like a box of treasures
His eagle like eyes look around towards beauty
He’s a real traveller..... a silent traveller
Sometimes gay, sometimes mourning;
He cries when his creation dies
He smiles when his creation is applauded by people
His hands are his mould, his poetry is his clay
Every thought he gets is a master piece
Through his ecstasy, his intellectuality
He contributes to this world, a change of his own
He’s a man of love, he’s full of ideas
A great service to man kind he pays
Spreading his message far and wide
Folks! Don’t dare approach this solitary
     traveller in his silence
He’s no common traveller.... he is a poet
travelling in the world of thoughts
A silent traveller.

 Kavya S.,
B.N.M. Institutions

The wind is calling me

The trees are whispering
The air is telling me to just – be,
But I am in chains.
The flowers nod wisely
Smiling with serene beauty
I want to be free,
And join them, the laughing flowers.
The air is heavy with
The scent of rain
My feet sink into the fresh earth
I try to run away, in vain.
The trees like wise sages
Stand tall, nodding
They have the ancient knowledge
I want to learn it, sometime
The early morning sunshine
Plays on the dewy grass
I want to cast off this cocoon
And dance
The clouds cast shadows
Over giant mountains
In darkness, one half bows
And the other, in light rejoices
After rain, the clouds vanish
But the drops remain,
They have removed all tarnish
From my grimy soul
These shackles that I wove,
They chain me to the ground
They have cast away my joys
Where they could not be found
But in the falling rain,
In the breaking sunshine and
In the moist early dew,
Sometimes, I see them glimmer
I feel the joy that I lost
Seep through this dust
That has gathered on me
Sometimes, I am glad, and I try to just – be.

Sadarchita Prasad,
 I PUC, Mount Carmel College