Mother

A mother's word,

Is always heard,

Near and far,

Wherever you are.

Voices

They whisper instructions, helpfully,

They ignite the spark of imagination,

They gently open eyes, which were closed before,

They lull into security.

They make beautiful promises,

they give cheery counsel,

They are obstinately optimistic,

they open doors once unseen.

OR SO IT SEEMS

They appear at night, or when least wanted,

They encourage man's foolish streak,

They light up doubts, long forgotten,

They play to his pride, his pain, his weakness.

They add fuel to the flame of guilt,

They strangle the feeble conscious,

They smother the slightest spark of esteem,

They destroy man's very sanity.

THAT IS THE REALITY

A Diwali Poem

Rows of lamps, shining bright,

Upon this dark and moonless night.

When every person, young and old,

Welcomes Laxmi Mother, to their adobe.

Faith

Faith is what makes you close your eyes and jump into open arms

Faith is what gives you the courage to fight when you are wronged

Faith is what helps you make it through a long day

Faith is what allows you to witness horrors and still believe in god.

Faith is how you know who to trust in your life

Faith is how you feel when you know you have been loved

Faith is how sound when you stand up for you believe

Faith is how you see the darkness and still pray for light.

Faith comes when you understand that life is full of meaning

Faith comes when you’re hand in hand with your family

Faith comes when you hold a wiggling babe in your arms

Faith comes in every life, as long as there is love.

The Wall (final copy)

Here's the final copy of The Wall:

Climbing up clinging ivy

Seems ever so simplistic,

For using that shining green rope,

One can conquer the highest peak.

But when the time comes to begin,

The wall is just too tall, and the feat is overwhelming.

Searching for cracks and chips

Is seemingly easy at first,

For a miniscule defect is all that’s needed

To scale its surface, weather worn

But when the time comes to begin,

The wall is just too smooth, and the deed is impossible

Fingers gripping, though knuckles white

Appears effortless to some,

For when using power and nerve

One can reach the top.

But when the time comes to begin,

The wall is just too slick, and the act is much to bold

But when given proper tools,

Hesitation is evicted.

With the rope of care, and the hook of patience,

Perseverance is the only option.

To these sacred few, scaling the wall is a mission accomplished.

The wall

Climbing up the clinging ivy

Seems easy to many

But when it comes time to start,

The wall is just too high.

Searching for chips and cracks

Seems simple to many

But when it comes time to start,

The wall is just too smooth.

Gripping with fingers and feet

Seems unremarkable to many

But when it comes time to start,

The wall is just to slippery.

But there are some who persevere,

Who try harder than the rest.

To them the wall is not to high, smooth or slippery.

They are the ones who make it to the top.

Draft 1 of one of my multi genre poems.

Lessons of Nature

As a bubbling creek of pure water

Hides the sneaky crab,

The honeyed words of a crook

Shrouds his wicked pincers.

Learn from this lesson of nature.

As the sun's golden rays

Strengthen the delicate flower,

The careful guidance of a teacher

Allows his pupils to grow.

Learn from this lesson of nature.

As the sturdy roots of an oak

Withstands heavy rains,

The bonds of true friendship

Can survive any monsoon.

Learn from this lesson of nature.

As the toughened shell of the tortoise

Protects him from his enemies,

The stronghold of family

Shields one from his problems.

Learn from this lesson of nature.

As the black nighttime

turns into sweet day,

All all that is evil will someday perish,

And all darkness will soon become light.

Learn from this lesson of nature.

-Shivi

Wrote this after reading some panchatantra stories.

:)

Only just a leaf

I once thought I saw an autumn leaf

Become a butterfly,
When captured by the East Wind

Ever playful, ever sly.

It glided over valleys green

And into the sky so blue,

Passing over fields of flowers

Of every possible hue.

It fluttered over massive trees

Of flaming red and gold,

And flitted over passers-by

Strangers young and old.

And as the day drew near an end

And with a sense of grief,

The wind let fall its new toy

And the leaf was just a leaf

-Shivi

Stored Away

Under a sea of carpets and dust,

Lies a large iron key, all covered in rust.

Holding the power to open a door

That has seldom been held open before.

Inside it's lock it uneasily groans,

It waits there, frozen, as though made from stone.

Held by hands, cautious, shaking

Brand new fears are monsters waking.

Hands are frozen, locked in place,

And then, with the utmost grace,

They hang the key upon the door

Storing secrets away once more, once more.

Through the eyes of the robin

A robin lands on a Gulmohar tree

He peers through the leaves at this vibrant land

And sees a farmer toil, happy and free

He sees the oceans and sparkling sand

He sees the child collecting pretty shells

And hears the bangles jingling on her hand

He sees the women gossip by the wells,

He hears a child laugh out loud

And hears their dainty anklet’s tinkling bells

He sees the peacock strutting, ever proud

He hears the cry of the village boys

And sees the bazaars with their bustling crowd.

He sees the stalls selling color and noise.

He sees the spices and silks being sold there now

And sees the child play with her wooden toys

He tastes fresh milk from the friendly brown cow

He sees the lush green fields and poultry farms

And sees the tired farmer washing his feet and wiping his brow

He sees the mothers with plump babies in their arms

He sees the pretty young girls with manners so mild

And sees young men showing off their charms

He sees the fruits and nuts so neatly piled

He hears clear, blue rivers, so many times crossed

And smells the lovely fragrant flowers growing wild

He knows this treasure must never be lost,

He must preserve it, no matter the cost.

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I did this for a Multi genre project at school last year. This poem is a perspective of the British Rule in India.

Marching

On Ethan Allen

Hiking through the forest green,

Are merry men so rarely seen.

Their leader wears a laurel crown

Marching his men through dismal towns

And the men, who at one time jeered,

Hear trumpets blaring, and feared

For while they stood, jaws agape,

He strode toward them, with his shining cape,

And to the fleeing Yorkers shame,

He shooed them back to whence they came

	- 6 -

IN THE MEADOW

In the Meadow

In the meadow, old and withered,

The grandfather of all trees.

Gone are the glory days,

Of rustling in the breeze

Gone are the days of standing,

So proud, wise, and tall.

Gone are the days of being,

The best one of them all.

Yet, come the silent night,

We find not all is lost.

His spirit still stands there,

Yet, at a heavy cost.

Every day he sees,

The suffering of his kind.

Desperate thoughts flitting,

In and out his mind.

In the meadow, old and withered,

The grandfather of all trees.

Every night he stands there waiting,

Waiting for his release.

-Shivangi Narain

11/20/08

FEAR

Leaves scattered on forest floor

rustling, rustling

Nervousness creeping up, stalking its prey

rustling, rustling

Flash of movement in brown undergrowth

rustling, rustling

Closer, closer beads of sweat start to form

I hear rustling, rustling.....

Looking around, breath deepens, pace quickens

panicking , panicking

Rattle shaking, infernal hissing

panicking, panicking

Hood raised , tongue flicking

panicking, panicking

Cobra stikes, Rattler bites

Its the end-

fading, fading........

-Shivi

TOMORROW...

Restless spirits haunt the night
I get the feeling something is not right.
I will find what that something is
and to vanquish it is eternal bliss.

I cannot sleep in my bed
I feel the pain of the dead
I remember something from the past
something that will leave a shadowy cast

Me! ...soon me wil be we
Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow
I will have no sorrowtomorrow
I will feel no pains of the dead
Tomorrow I can sleep in my bed

For tomorrow I will be married
Tomorrow I shall share the burdens I have carried.

Tomorrow I can tell that something from the past
the something that leaves a shadowy cast
tomorrow the spirits will be calm and quiet
tomorrow I will sleep through the night

Tomorrow that something will be conquered
but till tomorrow I shall feel the pains of the dead
Till tomorrow I can' t sleep i my bed...

SHIVI
I was 10 when I wrote this one,
I thought I was writing a chartbuster song
But everyone says its like an eerie poem!!! :)
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The Poets Prophecy

Through the darkness whispers,
A friendly little voice.
A sweet enchanting song,
Above the horrid noise.

The shadows will shrink back,
Once you start the light.
And it will strongly glow,
In the dark, silent night.

I know it may be shocking,
In this time of pain.
All will necome right,
Only good shall remain.

Though it may seem hard at first,
We must keep plowing on.
Working hard day and night,
Soon evil will be gone.

-Shivi

Grace Under Fire

Mom wrote this poem yesterday.

The pigeons are all a flutter…
Blood streaks and stains the gutter.
Life is shot to a screaming standstill,
Through the smoke we glimpse the face of evil.

Terror it seems has got even bigger
It is now youth with fingers on the trigger
Humanity shudders at the brutal force
As lives are taken, without any remorse.

The cries are deafening
Yet leaves us speechless
And Mumbai weeps …
As terror hacks at its knees.

And though she explodes and burns, this is Grace under fire -
Crumbling, as Courage and valor end on the funeral pyre!
Like the Taj, though wounded, but still standing strong
The people of Mumbai shall rise ever hopeful, before long…

And the whole world watches this latest atrocity
With dumbfounded horror edged with awful familiarity.

- Preeta

Night

Day is over,
Night's begun.
Darkness follows,
The fading sun.

And it lingers,
till the send,
Of daylights whisper,
'round the bend.

Alone

Alone on the road,
Alone I shall be.
Till you come along,
To be with me.

- Shivi

House by the Sea

The silent house sits by the sea,
Silently calling out to me.
In it's eyes one can see,
All the things it had to be.

By it's patrons forced to stand,
In this lonely, barren land.
Quietly circled by a band,
Of seaweed lying in the sand.

On is walls paint is peeling,
Ivy climbs up to the ceiling.
It stands alone, unapealing,
A house at which time is stealing.

The silent house sits by the sea,
Silently calling out to me.
And I'm the one it has to be,
I'm the one who'll set is free.

- Shivangi Narain