Do you hear the silence?
Do you hear the silence?
Do you hear your soul speak?
Do you hear the sounds unheard?
Do you hear the quietened voices?
It’s the rush-rush world,
Now on a break.
We have to do so,
For our own sake.
The earth ain’t a machine,
It too needs some rest,
And maybe now,
It’s time for the best.
People too are resting now,
We’re all too quite,
And that’s what,
Is right.
It’s time to take some rest,
Hear the birds make a nest,
Hear the streams of water flow,
Observe how things go so slow.
We’ve hurried the world for ourself,
But now it’s time to give it rest,
Let’s hear the silence,
Listen to our souls speak.
Enjoy the solitude,
Get some rest,
Listen to sounds that go unheard,
Listen to the earth speak.
The birds are chirping,
The rivers continue to flow,
It’s time to hear the silence,
Which has been silent since long ago!
V Drishti Rao
‘I wonder’
Sometimes I wonder,
What’s life is all about?
Is it for survival or any other,
A voice within me crying out loud.
I wonder why there is sickness,
Even the rich and poor were laid to rest;
I wonder why there’s no treatment,
Only prayers being heard saying Amen.
I wonder from where the virus came,
Everyone was asking whom to blame?
With COVID-19 playing its own game,
Killing the whole world in its own fame.
I wonder why the world is in lockdown,
When all we need is to kneel down,
With prayers, love, hope and faith,
Almighty God will make it straight.
I wonder what grief the virus brings,
Maybe it’s time for the world to rethink;
Will we consider it a bane or a boon,
We’ll get to know it very soon.
I wonder what people might have thought,
When I share my feelings into words;
All I asked is ‘positivity’
Let’s heal the world for you and me.
Clifford Jones K Warjri
Books are lovely
Books are lovely,
I said to my friend.
But she said, “Reading is not my trend.”
Oh! Leave the trend
And come with me,
I will show you Japan and Italy.
“But how?”, she asked me
In such a short time,
I said it’s a secret
But I shall tell you fine.
Then I took her to a library
And handed over a book,
She started reading it,
With a very disgusting look!
At last, when the book was over,
I asked her quickly,
How was your trip to Japan and Italy?
She said it was wonderful,
With a glorious smile,
From that day she says,
Reading is my style.
Thus, she borrows a book everyday
from me,
And we read it together,
Whenever we are free!
Nayaab Suhel, Class VII
Welcome to the whistling village
All are welcome to the whistling village;
Kongthongian welcomes to its village,
Without a words malice of any age!
Who can’t feel the breeze whispering into ear?
Who can’t feel dew drops falling on Jasmine dislodging filth fair?
Who wouldn’t fear rumbling storm by dear at midnight air?
The wings of nib never are dull for a poet!
Tongues twirl for all foul and good words!
Who can assure, not being in chaos, without words?
Words can befool, may lead to confusion!
A prayer may happen without word!
That must need to admit to lord.
Otherwise what sign text would do,
communicating too?
Thus Kongthong sustains whistling as a notion!
Kongthongian are desperate to talk, never rely on words.
Poets can feel flowing prayer of no words to heal.
With sagacity like a poet, can anyone
sprinkle delights?
Without words to set,
Whistling Kongthongian
How they communicate?
Let the world know, thou have special flow!
Kongthong inside, echoing with passionate whistle of mind!
Whistling is thy vocal!
All are welcome to the whistling village;
Kongthongian welcomes to its village,
Without a words malice of any age!
The poet infuses whistling as music in verse, as poets put it large
To echo like words and work at heart unlike sword!
Whistling flows as tune, as poems to elevate mind soon; words are supreme, how would one say whistling, has no cream?
Bringing rhythm of music, let words flow like sound of whistling.
The poet decides to move on, flow like a whistling on!
May be the day would come; all have to move to whistling village for calm!
Pranjit Sarma