Srividya Prasad is an ambitious girl, aged 15 years, studying in 10th grade in Sri Vani Public School, Bangalore, India. She is a great lover of books ranging from fiction novels to science and technology.
She has penned around 43 poems. Writing comes naturally to her as she set her foot in the world of literature. Some of her short stories and poems were published in some newspapers like The Hindu, Bangalore City Plus, Kannada Prabha and periodicals.
I don’t understand whether it’s the tears of the sky
or the shower of gifts from the heavens up high.
Either way, I am in love with the rain,
since it helps so many creatures who are thirsty or in pain.
I agree that it stops the fall of sunshine onto the ground,
but doesn’t it light up people’s lives and keep them sound.
The rains are so diligent for they travel high and low.
They condense to form fog and freeze to form snow.
Rains fill up vast oceans with pure water
so much that no scientist could measure with a meter.
Well then, do tell me a reason why some people complain,
when such a wonderful art of nature falls down as rain.
Anger boils in the heart
and kills your kindness like a dart.
It brews and blends and kicks the walls.
It controls you as if you were a doll.
It hypnotises your mouth and your mind
into calling others deaf or blind.
It makes you think you’re doing the right thing
in spite of all the sadness you bring.
In fact, anger is not a big deal
unless you gobble it up as a mid-day meal.
You must learn to trap it in a can
and send it far away with the postman.
Then, you’ll find your life 10 times better
because you are now more caring than ever.
The home I once owned
Is no longer mine
Now, who shall tend
To my lovely grape vine
I have no money,
No family, no home
Not enough friends
To take me to Rome
When I shiver
In the cold, starry night,
I smile at the sight
Of the warmth of the streetlight
I feel like
I am forever alone
While I lie on the road,
Hearing the dogs moan!
I’m your mother,
I love you.
I give you needed things,
Like food, water and pure air, too.
But you turn it into evil,
And let it affect you.
So what should I do?
Should I help you?
I’ll just give you a hint.
You are destroying two.
Not just you,
But me, too.
I just need a decision,
For this question:
Should I let you,
Destroy yourself and myself, too?
SEARCH FOR MUSIC
Music is a gift of nature,
Found in every corner of the universe.
From the gushing of a waterfall,
To the tiniest cricket chirps.
I find music in a baby's cry
And in the pan when I fry.
Even in the jingling of a wind chime
And the tick-tock of the clock when I check the time.
I find music in the rain pattering,
And in the Sunday church bells chiming.
I even find music in silence,
Where it ought not to be.