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  Poems from India

These poems are the Editor's Award winners for June 2002

Poems by Shaili

By Shaili, 15, Jamshedpur, India


Leaving behind sweet memories of childhood
Where I passed the valley of innocence,
I enter now a world of people both good and bad,
And I sometimes wonder will we remain friends
O dear friends of mine! Or shall we get lost
In this fascinating new world of new people and things.
When we meet again shall we be happy or sad,
Bright or depressed, joyful or full of woes? I wonder.
There’s but one thing we can do – hope and pray
That we meet and grow in love and joy
Keeping afresh the memories of our childhood.


Here I stand confused
My past not my own,
My future unknown,
My present a pile of confusion.
“Mother! Mother! Come to me,”
Calls the child within me.
There is that man with the sad look
Who sits alone next to me,
Am I his, I do not know.
There is someone standing there
Must be a friend from somewhere,
Am I his friend, I do not know?
Where am I? Who am I?
Who are these people?
What are these questions
Haunting my mind day and night?
Is there no one who can help?
I cannot remember or recognize!
A case of lost memory, they say,
What should I do? O What?
I am so lost, more lost each day,
Lost more than the previous day,
O help me someone, please help!


Life is not a tragedy
Neither is it a game
That you can play,
It is not a mystery either
Or a puzzle to solve.
Life is not just a struggle
Or a wondrous miracle,
Neither is it sorrow
Or mere painful duty.
It is not a blessing
Or a fearsome curse,
It is not hatred or envy
But it is love and love alone,
No fiction but a fact,
No mere dream but a reality,
The greatest gift of God to man
Is this life most marvelous.


You were given birth by a bear,
You were the one named Triton,
Savage and wild as you were,
Never for once did you follow
The rules of man or God.
But they all did love you –
You protected them and died the last,
Your heart was too full of guilt,
Guilt for something you never did.
You were wild and the bears too,
But time and man were the wildest of all.
They called you wild and drove you to rage,
They destroyed your life and burnt you all the while.
But noble you were, as noble as gold,
And you came through it all
For strength you had and when death came
Your death was great and you shall remain
A legend forever.... for there are few like you.


Illusion, yes, illusion you were,
To me and for these eyes too,
Each day in and out
You kindled a flame,
In and in front of me –
But yet so far away....
I have waited and shall keep waiting
Till the dawn of the day
When you will certainly come.
You talked to me but once,
Called upon me too,
I came and touched you,
But I soon realized you were too far away,
Just like the horizon where
Earth and Heaven meet and play,
You are but a dream for me
And a dreamer am I....
So in my dream we can always remain together. (June 2002)

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Three poems

By Roshni, 15, Jamshedpur, India

The Enchanting Showers

The silver edged nimbus flooded the clear sky,
Silent was the wind and murky the night,
The moon kissed the horizon, while the ground awaited the showers.
Over the months the weary farmers awaited the rains,
Their doleful dejection spoke the skies,
Such a crisis had never clutched them before,
Every heart and every mind craved for the rains.
A pearl fell from the sky to the earth,
Soon swallowed by the earth in its unquenchable thirst,
The heavens then split with the roar of thunder
And let go a shower of shining gems.
The peasants rose and ran for mirth
Danced and reveled in joy and fun
The rain found a blessing on every lip
Puddles were assailed with paper ships.
The beasts and the humans danced in the rain,
The sick and the sad forgot their ailments,
The rain, I must say, has hidden magical powers,
How blessed are these enchanting showers to all.

A rose for a rose

Appear and disappear, old and the new,
Buds and flowers blossom spreading fragrance,
A fragrance as enchanting and enviable as you
So rare to find, so pure and so true.
Be she a princess, an angel or a lady divine,
You adore her and long for her love,
The clove scented breeze rocks you with love
You yearn more and more then for her love.
The pitter-patter raindrops multiply your desire,
You bow your head and yearn for her luster,
The sight of her makes the mundane exotic,
What powers are hidden within her, O Gorgeous!
When the sun hides behind the mountain high,
The sky kisses the horizon, the moon peeps from behind
The fleecy clouds on high and you drop your head
And long for a dream of her near you then.

Just a minute

The verdict was out, the summons sounded,
In those rueful eyes love unfolded,
Her lust to live and her mortal fear
Was strangled.... for death was so near.
She stared at him, tears dampened her cheeks,
Oceans of tears flowed down in a narrow stream,
Her mesmerizing smile betrayed her emotions
And he stood dumb stricken as he saw her ebbing tension.
She was leaving him, Oh! thought revolting
Those melancholy hours themselves regretting,
His love, his friend, his sole support was she,
His lady lay pensive, life ceasing and death enforcing
His feelings unspoken welled up in his heart,
If only he could speak his love for her,
The love he had cherished for fourteen long years
How could she die without knowing his love?
He must tell her, speak out his emotions,
But words, O the words they failed him,
His nerves they tightened, His throat lay parched,
As he awaited the words of love to pour...
And then.... his lips they parted and the words they fell
But the paleness of her face struck his heart,
“Doctor!” he yelled for he knew now
It was all over, the long wait was done.
If only he had told her his love,
If only she had lived a minute more,
O God! A loving soul craved to tell his love
A minute, just a minute too late! (June 2002)

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The Day Is Done

By Karishma, 14, Jamshedpur, India

The sun is shining and the birds are chirping,
The farmers begin to reap.
Here the busy day starts,
While down the hills
The bulls pull their carts,
And the cowboys take the cows to field.
Soon it is noon and all is bright and sunny.
Gradually as noon fades evening raids the place,
Birds go back to their nests,
And the old go to bed to rest,
While the smallest of children dream of angels
In darkness and lengthening shadows.
It's devil’s time soon as the day goes to bed. (June 2002)

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