Poems
The Sweet-scented Lilies, Soup and Music
Tanvi Nagar
Delhi Public School, Gurugram, Haryana
We strung together the sweet-scented lilac lilies with perfection
and laced the low hanging air of despair with your magical melodies.
The red, blue and green lines on the screens fluctuated freely
tirelessly racing rhythmically- as if creating their own music.
The aroma of light-yellow luscious lamb soup escaped from the bowl
as if racing to reach the titled, square white ceiling first;
My glassy eyes, stayed fixed upon the skeleton before me- bones, flesh and a little you,
encased in a coffin of peachy pale skin and numerous twisted tubes;
the incisions in your skin fresh- with little red droplets of blood that oozed out
made my heart beat faster; fluttering like a kite in the sky before its string is cut.
the skin in your hands and feet hung loose and lifeless
which made it harder to imagine how blood was gushing underneath this sheet,
there was so much movement in the molecules of your being
yet, so much stillness in the spirit of your existence.
Your eyelids were shut closed, concealing the gateway to your universe within,
like the white sheet that covered the scars the sharp needles left on your body.
We strung together the sweet-scented lilac lilies with perfection
and laced the low hanging air of despair with your magical melodies.
The red, blue and green lines on the screens fluctuated freely
tirelessly racing rhythmically- as if creating their own music.
The aroma of light-yellow luscious lamb soup escaped from the bowl
as if racing to reach the titled, square white ceiling first;
It was hard to imagine life of a human, so powerful yet dangerously delicate
hanging on the monitors, meters, measures.
It was still more hard to imagine what pulling the plug from a socket
can do to the one hanging on it like threads of loose cloth ripped at the ends.
The lilac lilies danced in farewell, to some sad song it seemed
the monitors beating slower, slower and slower
still with their constant repeating beat- beep.
The waves resounded and repeated until the notes on the screen
refused to go up and down and the fumes
from the soup didn’t escape at all.
Poems
The Bus Never Stops
Sadaf
Class 5
Gitanjali Vedika School, Hyderabad
(Budding Writer attending Takhte’s Creative Writing Sessions—Mentor Ms Goldie)
The bus never stops,
It quickly moves on and on.
Though, sometimes it slows,
and at times it hops.
Wheels turn and the engine roars,
Comfy seats inside the colourful coach.
Racing through the day and night,
It carries passengers, evermore.
Travellers sit in rows,
Some read books,
Some play games,
And some of them just doze.
Few friends chatter on and on,
Find bliss in their bond.
Adoring their time,
And sharing stories of a time bygone.
Through the window pane, a world unfolds,
Outside views are so beautiful,
Of passing scenes, a colourful gaze,
Lovely sights and stories untold.
We ride at a steady pace,
At times the bus lurches with a jolt.
To reach the destination,
A familiar place.
And here comes our home,
It’s time to leave.
Will meet you again,
And what a roam!!
Poems
Mysteries of the Forest
By Abid
Class 3
Gitanjali Vedika School, Hyderabad
(Budding Writer attending Takhte’s Creative Writing Sessions—Mentor Ms Goldie)
Mysteries of the forest, deep and old,
With many stories untold.
Hollow caves, dark and deep,
Full of secrets, hard to keep.
The wind whispers, soft and low,
A gentle breeze, a calm flow.
The glistening lake, a wonderful sight,
Nature’s magic, full of light.
Tall trees reach up to the sky,
Close to the clouds that float high.
Leaves rustling all around,
Makes a haunting sound.
Forest ground covered with grass green,
And tiny creatures’ unseen.
Bees and bats, out of sight,
Whispering day and night.
Look at the way the birds fly,
And deep in the forest, foxes sly.
Moves around a wild boar,
A big animal jumps and roars.
When the night flies away,
Sunlight shines through the day.
A new morning rises up,
Sunflowers and daisies wake up.
Mysteries of the forest, deep and old,
With many stories untold.
Photo by Steven Kamenar on Unsplash
Poems
Whispers of Autumn
By Chaandneeka Choudhury,
Guwahati, Assam
Mentored by Goldie Kasturia
(Budding writer attending Takhte’s Creative Writing sessions)
In a peaceful town, the shadows dance.
Two souls found solace in a fleeting glance.
He, a boy with dreams like the sky,
She, a girl whose laughter could make the stars sigh.
Beneath the old wood, where the sunlight weaves,
They carved their names in the autumn leaves.
With hands intertwined, they shared secret dreams,
The world faded around them, or so it seemed.
They roamed through the gardens where the sunflowers bloomed.
In each other’s presence, their holding hands were consumed.
The sun’s rays fall on their youthful faces,
The two youths filled the empty spaces.
In the warmth of the summer, they danced in the rain.
Every droplet was a promise, and every smile was a refrain.
They spoke about eternity with their hearts open wide.
Not knowing that time would soon take a stride.
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months turned to years.
The seasons turned colder, and love faced its hunts with fear.
They watched as the leaves, once bright and pleasing,
Fell gently to earth with sorrowful feelings.
“Will the stars still remember us, far apart?”
He asked with a burn inside his heart.
“I’ll hold you forever in memories, dear.
Through laughter and tears, you’ll always be near.”
But life, like a river, flows wild and free.
And fate had a plan they could not foresee.
Opportunities beckoned; calling them far,
To chase distant dreams, to follow a star.
They lingered a moment, then turned to depart.
Two paths diverge, each bearing a heart.
With one final glance, a promise unmade,
They stepped into futures where memories fade.
Years rolled on like the tide on the shore,
Each heartbeat is a reminder of what came before.
He chased the horizon; she danced with the moon.
Yet echoes of laughter would beckon them soon.
And so, in their journeys, though miles may divide,
In the whispers of autumn, their spirits collide.
For love is not lost, though the distance may sting.
In the heart of the seasons, their memories take wing.
Here’s to the boy and the girl who once knew,
The power of love in the moments they grew.
Though paths may be parted and time may be cruel,
Their story lives on, a beautiful jewel.
Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash
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