Why, oh why
Oh my ,my
I coach and coddle
And cuddle and kiddle them
And then
They talk about papers-
Forgetting their winning capers-
They’ll be talking about
Stone and scissors next
Or of the importance of the
Written text,
And be afraid of
Silly stuff like the grammar
I say
Why be a crammer…
And then they ponder
When they should fly
And I ask myself
Why,oh why???
विस्तृत विश्व ,भाषाएं अगणित
स्वर भी सबके अपने हैं,
कानों में रस माधुरी घोले
तो समझो वह हिंदी है।
सुगम सरल है, सौम्य सहज भी
उच्चारण शुद्धि लाती है,
जिव्हा पर विद्युत सी डोले
तो समझो वह हिंदी है।
बुद्धिजीवियों की कोई भाषा
कोई पठन-पाठन ,अध्यापन की,
जन की बातें ,जन से बोले
तो समझो वह हिंदी है।
सौंदर्य की भाषा, ज्ञान की भाषा
लावण्यमई कहलाती है
मां की ममता याद दिलाए
तो समझो वह हिंदी है।
स्वप्ना तिवारी
Splash!” And the poor little lady cried out, “I’ll HAVE to go tell your parents about your mischief, though they already know it,” and went away muttering, “These children…I’ll have to clean the floor once more now.”
The spoiled brute went slipping through the staircase, two steps a time and “Raaaaaaaaah” he cried. The fat girl who lived in the house next door ran home with wet cheeks and soaked eyelashes. Miles dashed back home and shoved little Minnie right into a chair. His mom couldn’t bear it anymore, but what could she do?
He went straight to the living room where the TV was located and grabbed his video game controls and won every game in a row. Next, he reached for his laptop and clicked on the Xbox button, like, a 100 times or so.
Now he swung his cupboard open and grabbed a handful of Hershey’s chocolates. He didn’t bother to look at his round tummy.
He clutched the mic system from his father’s room, opened the window and shouted his heart out,which was his new hobby.
But Miss Improve-that-Kid wasn’t gonna let this Miles guy get his filthy hands over any more mischief ideas. A wave of her wand and…
Everything turned really really huge. Miles could see a blue wormy thingy instead of his legs. He saw himself in the dirt covered mirror. In the mirror Miles saw a really green and really tiny worm, with a nose and a pair of eyes, and nothing except these 2 things. Miles pulled his cheek, not his plumpy ones, but just a thin layer of green skin. It wasn’t a nightmare. He spent days just getting really really bored. Nothing to do!
The fairy, Miss improve-that-Kid handed him a book. She felt really bad for him now. He had no hands, so he had to use his wormy tail. He couldn’t understand most of the words, but a dictionary helped him. He started spending days reading books, nights mugging up the dictionary.
This was because he didn’t have hands to shove his sister, legs to knock the poor lady’s soap water bucket, masks to scare the fat girl or voice to burst people’s ears. He now only had eyes to read, and nose to have-his-nose-in-a-book. Miss Improve-that-Kid was really impressed and offered to change him into a boy again, but he was like, “No, thanks.” She called him the Book Worm.
He married the Reading Bug soon after this and they both lived in their little burrow, reading stories to each other. The reading Bug was another rotten girl who had turned into a reading bug. You’ll never find him in any corner of this world, because he lives in his own world of books, so very happily!
In the beginning, we were together. It has been a long time since the last one left. Everyone feels the loss of their friends, their loved ones. None more so than I. You see I have been cursed with the intelligence to know the difference.
There used to be six of us. We were created to help mankind but one by one my brothers disappeared.
Justice left when both armies of the holy wars claimed him for themselves.
He was the first to leave.
Humanity left when genocide came to stay for a while.
Transcendence departed when people lost faith in their beliefs, be it god or man.
Temperance left when the world turned into a demanding entitled environment.
Courage faded when people were too scared by the opinions of other people to voice their own.
I’m wisdom and I’m still here. But that’s only because I knew we were destined to fail.
Now, all I do is wait. I believe we will be reunited one day. Life just has to come full circle.
In the journey of creative pursuits,
I have my own hypothesis.
Poetry is not an incidental outcome,
It goes through a process of poeto-synthesis.
In the fertile lands of imagination
A seed comes and lands.
Whether to nurture it or not,
The choice is in your hands.
In the soil of feelings,
The seed of poetry is grounded.
Hear hear, this is how,
A beautiful poem is founded.
In the sunlight of language,
With the oxygen of observation;
With watering of rhyme scheme,
Ideas take wings of imagination.
How beautiful is the nature!!!
This is how a butterfly looks who has such beautiful features.
She spreads her wings like a beautiful shower
And sucks the nectar from her home, the flower.
Every action of this fly, seems to be a wonder
But do we all know, her childhood was such a bother
She was born in the form of a Caterpillar
Who ate huge leaves and kept growing bigger.
The time came when she needed to lock herself in that ugly cocoon
And she herself told her eyes and body for the last time to see Uncle Moon
She was not able to complete her wish or her dream
To fly with her friends below the clouds of white cream
But the power of nature is divine
After some days, the Butterfly came into the world with an attractive shine
The lesson learnt from her life is to never lose hope
Whether the condition is difficult and does not have much scope
Throw out those thoughts which eat up your mind
And follow the path which makes you wise and kind
Path of success was never made straight
You yourself have to build up your path to reach the destination gate
But remember to never lose hope!
Like the butterfly emerges
Lets out her beautiful wings,
A butterfly grows and develops,
With the love her mother brings.
Someday the butterfly has to fly off its darkened cocoon,
Someday the snake has to come out of its barren skin,
Someday we have to come out of our old nests from which we’d dreamt.
This butterfly with the golden wings,
Does a very special thing.
It catches everything that’s bad,
Those dreams and thoughts that make you sad,
Then seals them in a golden cocoon,
And carries them far past the moon.
Then it returns the very night,
So that you wake up with love and delight.
While we play
And are fresh as squirrels in the day
You work night and day
Yet keep tiredness at bay.
You go out of your way
You help us every way.
On this special today
I wish you, Happy Teachers’ Day.
While we comfortably on the bed lay,
You worked for us, night and day
So, in reverence to you this day,
I bow my head today.
Happy Teachers’ Day.
Teachers show the path of success,
And fill our life with colours.
They never give up someone or love more or less,
Their teachings can’t be bought in dollars.
Sometimes they act as leaders, scholars or mentors,
But they will be our friends on all the rocky shores.
They teach the ones who are present and miss the absentees
In these dire times, they are busy as bees.
These days we are locked indoors,
But the teachers are still working from their home.
So that we don’t miss our study chores,
Our parents architect our statue at home
But teachers work to make a nice loam.
Now we see the teachers on the devices,
My salute to them who are teaching in this crisis.
