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White wings and Red horns

They have been part of bedtime stories since ages. Angels and Devils. And that is how every kid gets his/her first moral teachings of life. The concept of good and evil might be unfathomable at their age if told in a bland manner. To explain them that good and evil both reside within us might be slightly tough in a direct way. And that is when all stories, poems and songs give a helping hand. Say the same as stories or sing as a poem , they grasp it well and easily. 

When I started writing for a kid's theme I was skeptical. I had never written children's poetry, until now. I was definitely nervous. I had to take care that the lines should be simple, understandable and easy to rhyme along for the kid.

 And as a reward for my effort, my friend's niece won the first prize reciting this poem. It is extremely satisfactory to know that someone recited your poem so well. Takes me back to my childhood days.

So here it goes my maiden poem for the kids on their day. Happy Children's Day. 

White wings and Red horns

Little wings white,
Angel tells what's right,
Red Devil horns,
Teaches me all wrong,
I searched with my cat,
And found them in my heart.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        This is my cute reciter 

© Copyright Salvwi Prasad [POETICbug]

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That smaller one is still my home

The train stopped at it's last destination and her journey began. The enormous city, sea of unfamiliar faces and with a known suitcase,Kiran embarked on her job life, 4 years ago. The emotions were same as any other newbie in her office. She was afraid but this freedom was what she wanted for long. As time moved ahead Kiran crossed confirmation, promotions and above all 4 years in this unknown city just like one of those many. Strangers became a priority and family missed the regular calls. She is satisfied but doubtful, if happy. 
Today while returning from office the girl in the bus was a reflection of her, 4 years ago.
Kiran asked her, "Where are you from?"
The answer brought back old, beloved memories, which Kiran now laments. 


That smaller one is still my home


Freedom, I yearned for it,
While everything around was familiar,
I desired for strange aspirations,
Now when every day is unexpected,
I turn through the album old,
Searching the familiarity I once captured,
From stingy lanes to broad highways,
From cozy walls to glass buildings,
From pocket money to salary,
From casual to formal,
I have grown,free and strong,
All along the way,
More names, no relations I've added,
Busy in conversation with just voices,
My own get listed as a missed call,
Some days I am proud where I am,
All days I wish to relax,
With a sip of coffee from "Her" kitchen,
Another of "His" life lessons,
Or teasing that sibling young,
This bigger city may have build my job,
But that smaller one is still my home.

© Copyright Salvwi Prasad[POETICbug]

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All posts of this blog by Salvwi Prasad is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 India License