Teachers come and go
but every so often one comes along
that you’ll always remember
one who makes learning an adventure…
and who can still remember
what it’s like to be young
and growing up…
the kind who can make you
want to be the very best you can be…
Someone you can really talk to,
who really cares
what happens to you…
That person is YOU!
She hides behind the clouds;
Just like poetry…
Meanings hiding behind the
Words…
The purity of love, the purity of
Survival is hidden behind the cotton puff…
The dark passing clouds…
Passes by our head…
We see the cotton puffs with a
Puppy smile…
There…She smiles…
With
Drop of tears…
She cries with a smile…
The slow falling crystal drops
The lovable work stops…
Drops falling on your body…
The PAIN vanishing…
Vanished…
Blossom smiling…
We,
Enjoy the beauty of love…
Swinging in the direction of the Nature Prince;
The cool breeze, the wind.
Leaves with drops of purity.
Conversing with each other
The purity of love…
Oh! the mother of purity…
You make us happy with
Your tears…
Please don’t fade away.
Be with us.
Don’t anticipate…
And bliss in ignorance…
There is a great teacher called river.
Whose teachings can make us shrewed and clever.
Never bend your way for anything in the world.
Melt again even after you solidify when its cold.
Don’t let anything be a hindrance,
Jump over them and flow with confidence.
Never stop, go on flowing,
When dams are build, break them and keep going
swirl with the wind and dance with the tree,
Become a symbol of energy and glee.
When people throw a stone, show them your face.
Bend alone the obstacle and go on with grace.
Flow across borders, don’t show a change,
Don’t change your heart even when you age.
Flow through the village and the urban cave.
Quench the thirst for water when people crave.
Don’t show off what you have inside,
Sink in everything and look calm from outside.
The teaching of river goes on and on…
But realizing them takes more penchants and the whole day till the next dawn.
Pick the best and leave the rest.
At last there is always a teacher called river,
Whose teachings can make us shrewd and clever.
I was lucky to be born in India. Even with about 250 million people living below poverty line, India is one of the few countries in the world that offer practically free education to its vast population. Education provides hope and power to many.
The boy started his journey from a school with thatched roofs an isolated journey. This is the story of many who started from humble beginnings, and believed in second chances. An African man, Barack Obama, born to a Kenyan father, and raised by a single parent in the poor neighbourhoods of Hawaii is going to represent the democratic party in the US presidential election. About 43 years back, people of his colour were not allowed to vote, or even sit in the bus seats which were reserved for whites. Gandhji was kicked around in the street of South Africa for walking in the areas which were designated for whites only. Now a man, with his sheer persistence, tenacity and intelligence, is challenging the conventional wisdom of colour based identities of human beings which has been true for centuries, and still holds true in many parts of the world.
In our journey through life, we walk around with bags filled with memories of the past, and dreams and hopes for the future. We select the colours of our dreams and memories. We live with our own insecurities and the constant urge to prove to someone. It could be our parents, loved ones or ourselves.
So, good luck with your examinations or interviews, or whatever dreams youe are pursuing. Life is a journey; Don’t forget the paths you passed, those paths define you. Keep your chin up. Put on a smile and head on.
Cheers!!
Poetry like life, defines a definition. Like the wind it is eluding. We can feel the wind all the time, but cannot see it. so is poetry; we enjoy it, but not define it. We can, at best, define its features. Wordsworth may say, that it is an experience recollected in tranquility, but before that, there invoke love or hatred, joy or sorrow, hope or despair-an emotional outburst. There is something ethereal about it and a halo about its maker. It is the language of the soul that suddenly breaks into a passionate song of beauty and splendour. Whoever it is – Dante or Homer, Milton or Shakespheare the burden is the same-soul communicating with soul. Sweets may cloy, pleasures may become stale, but the charm of poetry forever remains fresh and fragrant.
Food is to taste, beauty to sight, music to hear and fragrance to sniff and breeze to feel. But poetry is too all these not only to feast the five senses but to sober them. Poetry is as old as humanity itself. All ancient works of religion and philosophy are poetical in essence if not couched in poetry.
A jobless man applied for the position of “office boy” at Microsoft.
The HR manager interviewed him, then watching him cleaning the floor as a test.
“Your are employed,” he said. “Give me your e-mail address and I’ll send you the application to fill in, as well the date when you start.”
The man replied, “But I don’t have a computer, neither an email.”
“I’m sorry”, said the HR manager. “If you don’t have an email, that means you do not exist And whoever doesn’t exist, cannot have the job.”
The man left with no hope at all. He didn’t know what to do, with only $10 in his pocket. He then decided to go to the supermarket and buy a 10kg tomato.
He then sold the tomato in a door to door round. In less than two hours, he succeeded in doubling his capital. He repeated the operation three times, and returned home with $60.
The man realized that he can survive this way, and started to go everyday earlier, and return late. Thus, his money doubled or tripled everyday.
Shortly, he bought a cart, then a truck, and then he had his own fleet of delivery vehicles.
Five years later, the man is one of the biggest food retailers in the US.
He started to plan his family’s future, and decided to have a life insurance. He called an insurance broker, and chose a protection plan. When the conversation concluded
the broker asked him his email.
The man replied, “I don’t have an email”.
The broker answered curiously, “you don’t have an email, and yet have succeeded to build an empire. can you imagine what you could have been if you had an email?!!.” The man thought for an while and replied, “yes, I’d be an office boy at Microsoft!”
Imagine there is a bank that credits your account each morning with 86,400$. It carries over no balance from day to day. Every evening deletes whatever part of the balance you failed to use during the day. What would you do?
Draw out ALL OF IT, of course!!!
Each of us have such a bank. It name is TIME.
Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest for good purpose. It carries over no balance. It allows no overdraft.
Each day it opens a new account for you. Each night it burns the remains of the day. If you fail to use the day’s deposits, the loss is yours.
There is no going back. There is no drawing against the “tomorrow”. You must live in health, happiness
and success.
The clock is running. Make the most of today. Treasure every moment that you have! And treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time. Remember that time waits for no one. Yesterday is history, tomorrow is mystery. Today is gift. That’s why its called present!!!
So utilise this “present” in a proper way. Find your real value for TIME.
William Wordsworthdescribes poetry as ‘Spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings’. Reading and writing poems brings great pleasure to our minds. One need not necessarily be highly competent in the language in which one attempts writing poems. If one’s mind is pregnant with a thought, the drive to deliver it in the poetic form will automatically bring ‘choice words’ to one’s hand. all of us agree that poetry writing is enjoyed as a solitary assignment. But recently I experienced the pleasure of doing it as a class activity wherein most of the children in the class were involved. A poem was composed in the class. Some student supplied word, some framed lines, some suggested ‘better word’, some tried to bring in the rhyme, so and so forth. Finally they saw poem on the board, that was composed by them all in about twenty minutes!.
The poem are given below read and enjoy.
A FLASH BACK
As I walked into the sun lit room
I felt nervous and was filled with gloom.
I was still holding my mother’s hand,
The class room was looking grand!
When my left I felt insecure
The teacher took my hand in her hand
With a pleasant smile and love which is pure
We began our journey to a happy land.
FROM THE NTERTAINER ' DESK
