My Grandmother's house by Kamala Das

12:11 Add Comment

There is a house now far away where once
I received love……. That woman died,
The house withdrew into silence, snakes moved
Among books, I was then too young
To read, and my blood turned cold like the moon
How often I think of going
There, to peer through blind eyes of windows or
Just listen to the frozen air,
Or in wild despair, pick an armful of
Darkness to bring it here to lie
Behind my bedroom door like a brooding
Dog…you cannot believe, darling,
Can you, that I lived in such a house and
Was proud, and loved…. I who have lost
My way and beg now at strangers' doors to
Receive love, at least in small change? 

Biking

11:38 Add Comment

Fingers grip
Toes curl
Head down
Wheels whirl

Hair streams
Fields race
Ears sting
Winds chase

Breathe deep
Troubles gone
Just feel
Windsong.

                                
                                 --Judith Nicholls

Discovery by Gayatri Pahlajani

11:29 Add Comment

I want to climb the highest tree 
Study stars and their mystery
I want to touch the clouds above 
Find someone I can talk to, now!

 I want to be a designer-
Make dreams that Just don't disappear. 
I want to be on artist too -
Paint pictures of me and you.


 There are lots of things on this earth
New ideas that are taking birth.
But before I discover what I want to be 
I must learn to discover me!


                                                
                                            -Gayatri Pahlajani

Inclusion by Dipti Bhatia

11:25 Add Comment

To be a part
And not stand apart
To belong
And not to be isolated
To have friends
And not just companions
To feel needed
And not be just a person with needs To participate
And not just be a spectator
To have responsibilities
And not just enjoy rights To have opportunities And not favours
Is to be really 'included'


                                          - Dipti Bhatia

Bat by Randall Jarell

09:04 Add Comment
This poem portrays the nocturnal [living as if night was the day] life of a mother bat, revealing her similarity with some other mammals in mothering a child The poet describes the little bat's life right from time of its birth observing its habits, its abilities and its limitations. The poet brings in a vivid imagination along with great and careful observation.

A bat is born
Naked and blind and pale
His mother makes a pocket of her tail
And catches him. He clings to her long fur 
By his thumbs and toes and teeth
And then the mother dances through the night 
Doubling and looping, soaring, somersaulting
Her baby hangs on underneath
All night in happiness, she hunts and flies
Her high sharp cries
Like shining needle points of sound
Go out into the night and, echoing back,
Tell her what they have touched.
She hears how far it is, how big it is,

 She lives by hearing
The mother eats the moths and gnats she catches
In fall flight; In full flight
The mother drinks the water of the pond
She skims across. Her baby drinks the milk she makes him 
In moonlight or starlight, in mid-air
Their single shadow, printed on the moon
Of fluttering across the stars, Whirls on all night; at daybreak
The tired mother flaps home to her rafter.
The others all are there
They hang themselves up by their toes, 
They wrap themselves up by their brown wings.
Bunched upside-down, they sleep in air.
Their sharp ears, their sharp teeth, their quick sharp faces 
Are dull and slow and mild.

 All the bright day, as the mother sleeps, 
She folds her wings about her sleeping child.
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