Pages of Poetry

It was a bright, sunny, morning, and I woke up feeling pleasantly happy. My sleepy grin turned into a look of shock at the sight of the clock. 8.50 AM!! My school bus would be down in ten minutes! I rushed out of my room clutching my toothbrush in hand into my parents’ bedroom to find them snoring peacefully. No wonder I’d slept in, then. I had a quick shower, shoved my books into my bag, tied my hair into a bun and ran out… …to find my school bus turning the corner and speeding away in a whirl of gravel and dust. I dejectedly began walking to school, sure that I was going to be late. As I made my sad way to school, the sky darkened and black clouds rushed in to hide the sun I had smiled at so happily earlier. Great, I thought. I’d always had this thing against rain. In the next five minutes, it was pouring and I was completely drenched. I stood under a tree and was lamenting my plight when I noticed a little boy and a woman across the road. It was hard to tell, but the woman appea...

“Don’t let go!” I yelled, as I struggled to pull up Carin, my hiking partner, over the rocky mountain ledge. “Don’t let go, Carin, please, hold on,” I muttered as he, clinging onto the flimsy rope I had thrown down, swung in the ferocious gale, coming dangerously close to dashing the rock surface of the mountain. I pulled with all my might, praying that every tug of the rope would bring Carin closer to safety. He was being absolutely quiet – praying, perhaps, like I was, to be able to hold on. Slowly, slowly, he came up, and immediately scrambled onto the ledge. The both of us retreated to our cave and collapsed on the stone floor out of sheer exhaustion – and relief. A few hours later, I woke up. It was pitch-dark around me, and beside me, I could hear the deep, slow breathing of my companion. My glow-in-the-dark watch told me that it was eleven p.m. That explained the utter darkness that clung to the walls of the cave like soft mats of dark wool. I tried to go back to sleep b...

It is the strong who live They who die are not weak But yet, I say, it is the strong who live. Those who live on, past tragedy Past pain, and loss, and hurt Past smiles and tears, hopes and fears It is them I salute. For they do not break down. Like the jasmine that only appears frail They continue to exude their fragrance Long after wilting in the heat of life. They who weep are not weak Just as they who laugh Need not be merry. Fleeting desires, crushed, do not weaken them Wild passions do not grip them They look upon life with a calm eye The eye of the hurricane, in the midst of storm. Strong willed, with a resolve to outlast All that life may plague them with A frame of iron, a heart of gold Mind of steel, and hands of velvet. And yet again I say, it is the strong who live They who lose everything And yet, along the way, Find themselves.

The young lass sat in solitude, Upon a rock, in the thick woods, Waiting, waiting for the lily o’ the night To make her appearance ‘midst the stars. Waiting, waiting for the full moon. And she came in all her glory, And the clouds parted as in awe. The maiden saw, and she laughed, And raised the flute to her lips. And as the first haunting note poured forth, They came. Their eyes gleaming out of the darkness Their paws making not a sound. Wolves. Rejoicing at the sight of the full moon. The melody flooded the clearing, As did the moonlight. Silver fur, sparkling jaws. And then, a howl. It rent the night. The melody, shattered, Into a thousand silver shards. And then, silence. As one, they leapt and bounded Into the sheer darkness. Bid their adieus to the lily of the night And slipped back into the shadows.               ...

You’ll Be Home Don’t worry, o frightened one, The night may be dark, the road may be long, But after all of that, You’ll be home. And I’ll be waiting, with a lantern in my hand, Waiting to welcome you home. After the long journey, through the dark night, You’ll be home. Don’t despair, o loved one Don’t be afraid of what lies ahead, Think, instead, of what awaits you at the end, because You’ll be home. Look for the light, little one, The light that will guide you home. Listen for my singing, o one who is afraid, And you’ll be home. Do not cry because the night is cold, Rejoice, instead, that you can be warm Do not weep because your feet hurt, Rejoice, instead, that you have something to get hurt for. And do not stop, o tired one, Your heart may be weary, your feet may be sore, But keep them moving, one after the other, for soon, You’ll be home. -Anugraha Venugopal

The Rain The earth is parched, The land sheds dry tears. The animals lament loudly, The flowers wither in silence. But wait! In the distance, The sound of thunder is heard. And this sound, is sweeter to their ears, Than the cooing of the birds in the spring. The sky is lit up by a bolt of lightning, The clouds come rushing and join the fray, The thunder roars, the lightning glares, And the first raindrop starts to fall. As it lands it is followed, immediately, By its brother from the skies, And one by one, drop by drop, The clouds give up their precious pearls. And suddenly, the heavens burst! And shower nectar from their midst. The earth is revived, The land sheds tears of joy. The animals laugh, The flowers smile. Sparkling diamonds from heaven, Sent to adorn the Earth, In the most precious necklace, Ever made. And so, the grand play With its majestic actors, Comes to an end. And they depart, With a farewell rainbow. As ...

An Ode To God You make the flowers grow, You make the wind blow, You made the sky so high, You made the birds fly. You make the koel sing, You crowned the lion king, You made the birds and bees,  You made the oceans and seas. Without you, life wouldn't be worth living, In fact, life wouldn't be living at all. Love, sharing, caring, giving, Isn't that what life is for? 'As above, so below', The ancients have decreed. But I doubt you have all this in Heaven, This anger, pain, sorrow and greed. Why don't you do something, o God? Why don't you ease this suffering and pain? Your innocent children have suffered much, In nations' strife for profit and gain. Help the troubled ones, Help the ones in need. Then turn to those Who devoutly follow your creed. And shower them with blessings, Not luxury, now wealth, Just love and affection, Sound intellect and health. Anugraha Venugopal