words that matter.

Blow the trumpet Let it not be dust in the wind, When I look back. Thou speak in clichés Fiddling with violin. How shalt thou appraise? Tears and smile. For astray eyes Are after, Trumpet it can blow out deafening. Shimmering lights, Enclosed the pastures. Lights born out of Papers will fade away. Search, struggle and shout It’s not over until I win.

Just a lesson  The journey has just begun. I stand with my head held high and this is only i will be left with, when life is done with me. I am not a born winner, for i remember myriad people who stood ahead. I do remember something even better all the time i wanted something deep inside, i had it. i won those very times! I have felt the strangeness of  laughter at me. And i thought to myself, even smiles could hurt.  Time is flying, i am barely walking. They say i am slow, world is nasty... hurry up!! Its not about those steps i take, it is about me. I want to run but allow me to know for what? There i was trying to find me. For so many titles my parents gave, my family thought, dear friends shouted aloud. May be i am not one of those or may be i am !! I have known there is something more ....much more. Thankfully, there are some answers Google doesn't have. At least you have a few things that only you can do. After 84 years of life, she...

I am you                                      Prerna Mishra  (class 11, 2009)  The love which can never be measured, The priority which can never be replaced, The heart which can never say it again, The face which can never vanish, The eye which can never stop searching,  Unknown is the destination of this path, the pain path? I know this  And yet the life speaks, Speaks for you. My tender age have played the role. A new emotion strikes the heart,  A feeling, a thought spreads in me, Will be spreading till I die. Death will search Soul will meet,  Love is true I will come to you. You don’t allow me to go  You are in me My mind You and you You are spirit You are me  I am you.

BROTHERS'  BLUE  SKY                                             Prerna Mishra                                            class 11, 2009 The white radiance Was impeccable, The consistency adorable. For illuminating the blue black   Exists a beautiful moon. Through ocean, vales, hills and roads It shines to your window. Never I believe, That this morning when I wake, Will rouse somebody brighter, His brightness dies, when born brother another Morning and night the duty is fixed The brothers have they divided? For warming the white blue  Exists the sun huge Moon and sun Sun and moon Shining and tweeting in the blue sky The brothers completing the sky. Years and years roll down Se...

FIVE HANDS                                                  prerna mishra, 2009 25 tiny fingers sliding its way, To find the maximum amount, To satisfy the hunger The hunger that is as old as the finger. The plate carrying chunks of food Is holding five hands. Unaware of hygiene, Alien to sanitation, Living in a known hell. These five children, Are having their cherished meal. Born with an inborn disease Of Poverty. Slavery and begging Being the symptoms, Education that may be the medicine Is beyond the dream……… Harassed by the symptom Hopeless by the disease, Are these buds. finding the gem in scrap  Eating the left over, Burning in sun Shivering in winter. Is it that For which the bud must sprout? “It hurts to see them” ...

My experiment with Rs5.                                            By Prerna Mishra                        (written in college 5th sem, 2013) In last 31 years, they have only asked for your 2 minutes, now as an added topping with just Rs5 in your pocket.  In the interiors of Jharkhand, a true Indian village lacking in almost everything, where survival is with bare minimum resources, Life goes on because it has to. A few government schools established under “Sarva Siksha Abhiyan” shabby building, teacher sits outside the classroom with hand-fan. I saw Students having their cherished meal. A big bus carrying thousands of packets, parked outside the school. Yes it was Maggi; these children were having and of course free of cost. Mid-day meals have perhaps become very boring for these children! They too...

                      A FIRE WITHIN  The desire becomes the want The want becomes the need The need becomes the addiction. When the fire burns,  Not in the dense forest But in the forest of thoughts Thoughts to achieve “Its not in your limit” to prove the author wrong. This author can’t write my destiny I know the key I know the lock But I don’t know how to open the lock Or may be I simply cant Every step I take, every rule I make Something drags I know what drags but still I fail to keep it away This drag throws water to my fire My fire, my fire, my fire When will it burn the “drags” And give light to my desire I know………………. This fire will fulfill me, the day it has burnt the drags.                        ...

Going for a class?                                                                  Prerna Mishra                                                                                             college 4th sem, 2012 Studying since 16 years. Strange! Even I don’t feel like believing I am doing this. I turn my head around and all I see...

A beauty traveled                                                                              By                                             Prerna Mishra                                            written in class 12, 2011 A beauty  traveled Through heavenly sky Reached toxic ...

           WHERE TO GO NOW!                                                                                     BY                                Prerna mishra   (class 11, 2009)                                    ...

CREATIVITY DIMINISHING                                                         PRERNA MISHRA                                                                  Class 12, 2011                       Declining and depreciating Is my creativity My creativity is lost In running the race for...

                           Master Player The two pony Beneath the moon shady The jet black hair That danced in the air. Played the girls with utter innocence A fearful game in incandescence , One hiding behind chair Fearing to be feared by other. The game, the game you play With fear added. Will be over the day You see fear in gay. The new player will be life You will never be able to hide. The fear will be real The rule classical. Hiding for long Will not be working, The childhoods hide-seek Looks more appeasing on reminding now. “The fear was built Then and now Sometime added, sometime created But was never inborn” Has said the master player to me To walk with him With life And not hide behind.                      ...