Prayer
God! you are my everything;
U are the one of whom I always think
Shower on me your blessings;
Cure my ills, pains and wailings
Give me your light;
So that I may follow the way right
Give me the power to speak
Never make the weak
I want to be like the flowers that every time bloom;
As God, I want not to gloom;
Help me to never fell in strife;
Because I don’t want to get hurt in my life
Fill my heart with hope, zest and passion
Keep my life free from every depression
God let me ask
When I cry, what do you feel ?
When I become happy, what do you feel ?
I want the answer of these questions
Because they make me very ill
God, keep me under your shade and protection
Because from you I cannot bear any separation
God ! you are my father;
I am your little child,
Keep me always a good human being,
Don’t make me a wild
Keep me free from infirmity and idleness;
Pour me the nectar of knowledge,
And always give me your freshness
I don’t bother what people think of me;
I bother what you think of me
Remove all the obstacles from my way;
So that I should be happy and gay
How long I shall wait for the right time to come ?
Because I want to get rid of every bad one
Oh God! It’s my request to help me
Save me and never exploit me;
Give me your love and strength
Vanish all hatred and bitterness from every one’s heart
People may leave me , isolate me;
But you don’t abandon me, Lord!
Lord ! you are everything,
And you are the one of whom I always think of !!!
Lovleen Kour
Class 10th A,
Christ School Poonch
Mother
Embodiment of love peace and sacrifice
Nurtures her children
Like a true nurse
Oh, Dear Lord
I felt you,
in my mother
Who is always
Devoted towards her family
in every home
There’s a sweet mother
Looking after every affair
Having enough strength and good sense
to help every individual
“Lakshmi” she is called
Because her presence in the home
Brings happiness
May she ever be blessed
By Lord
So that, she may enjoy good health
So as to help every one
in the family
Dear Mother,
There is heaven
in your lap
I bow before you
You are my God
Kiran Kanchan
Machhlian, Domana
THE SHOE
I lay in my place,
With my mouth tied by a lace.
To me it was a moustache,
and a great source of panache.
Into the shop came a toddler
Who spelled out wishes to the cobbler.
Impressed by my sleek looks,
He sacrificed the money meant for his books.
At, last the moment had arrived
from which happiness i derived,
I bid my old place good bye,
And entered the bag of little boy.
I forced my lips to curve,
Happy about person I would serve,
I set off on a journey,
in the bag of boy who gave up his money.
It was the time, I was to greet,
My dear beloved master’s soft feet.
I anxiously waited as my master untied me.
Not very long after wearing me he exclaimed:
“Blimey!”
“These shoes are more comfortable than I thought.
Good things they were mine to be bought.
He wore me day and night,
Making my skull bulge as I become tight.
As the boy grew older he had to discard me,
But I know how much he used to love me.
Today, I am a old tattered boot,
Covered in faith & grime & soot.
I remember the days when I stood tall,
But now I am like an old man waiting for his last call.
May be this is the way the world is,
I enjoyed my life throughly an now it is all his.
Sourabh Jamwal
Greater Kailash, Jammu
Deprived Being
Once there was a poor girl,
Who wanted to wear a dress of colour pearl
She was without father and mother
And had also missed to see her big brother.
She saw sweet fairy dreams,
Eating with her parents yummy ice-creams
Her age was of tender eight,
But for joining school she was late.
She was living with her aunt & uncle
Who sold her to a different house with a rag
bundle.
She missed her own family & cried,
But was poor and deprived
She wanted to read & write
And in a lot of ways she tried
No one in that house understood her even
one tear
And to tell them she didn’t dare.
One day she decided to leave
And to snap the utensils & the serve
From that day no one knows where she went,
But a message to us she sent
“When you pray to Goddess Durga
Laxmi & Saraswati,
Then why do you trouble poor girls and
get no pity?
Muskan Bhat
9th ‘B’ K.V. No. 1 Jmu
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