That war inside me is killing me.
I am wounded, no help all around.
I am crying but no ears to listen.
I am waving but no eyes to see
All alone in the desert of my town
Dead bodies, blood and despair all around.
The desert where once was a jungle
Full of animals and noises
Now its like a grave.
Silent as a grief death
That silence that acts as a sword
Piercing my heart again and again
No hope, no voice and no choice
Couples dying, children crying
This image of sorrow and despair
Killing not only bodies but minds
Standing alone with flowing blood.
Flowing so hard as such a flood
Body draining, shadow depleting
Still standing and lost in thoughts
This pricking silence is making me dull.
The war which has no end
Everytime, I wrote it wasn’t too late
Now, time is gone and no solution is there
Faded memory and sinking brain
Obious death and hopeless life
Waiting for everyone to choose
As result will be the same
What we have done
We will get back
That hatred and that bias you had once
Now, turned out be the end of your
Enemy and loved ones…
THE GHOSTS OF OUR SCHOOL
It was a very dark evening
When I was alone in bed
Those words in my mind revolved
About the ghosts that my friends had said,
A child came and told me
That our school was a special one
When I asked him why
He told that on a graveyard,
the work was done.
The other one came to say
That the ghosts usually died during day
But at night when the clock struck three
The ghosts entered the school with glee
They play music on piano
And use the sports equipments
They eat the flowers of saplings
And destroy the furniture
But I had the courage to fight
The ghosts if they met me alone at night
But luckily the night passed by
And I calmed my breath with a sigh!!
A mind rare to find
A mind rare to find
She makes learning a joy
Our crazy actions make her annoy.
Her heavenly smile can work wonders,
She helps derive lessons from blunders.
A charming mother for little minds,
and a superb soul rare to find.
Her daily dose of philosophy sets us right,
And face challenges with no fright.
Her tender hug is a sublime bliss,
Once felt, you won`t wish to miss.
Her solicitous face is a beauty to behold
She is adept in the game of mind-mould
Her affection and care lend her perfect edge,
Nurturing young minds is her pledge.
Bearing naughtiness is her art,
Her support drives our life`s cart.
Her zesty scolding is what we love,
She is agile yet winsome like a dove.
Smriti Kaul MHACS Nagbani
Dedicated to her teacher,