Disappointment

In hope perhaps the heart is more fool

Than any opportunity given
For hope and desire start the fire
With which disappointment be driven
Fond are times in past and present
When hope rewardeth human
Countless occasions of deeper sorrow
In those very instants forgotten
Why this madness, why this need
To expect of things and compliance?
In the end, no score is kept
Of success or defiance.
Dark are days until the time
Fresh circumstance arises
And traitorous heart, it hopes again
Worse for wear, but triumphant.

-Sreedevi

Prejudice by Lavanya Desai

Lavanya is 12 and a 7th grader in Oxford Middle School. With regards to the current debate regarding prejudice and racial problems in America, her language arts teacher Mrs Sue Buckner, asked them to express their feelings/opinions about the topic.

Here is what she came up with. I am honoured to know her; she speaks on the topic with more maturity than most adults display. As her parents say, We are very proud of her and thought that a 12 year old's words might open a few eyes and change a few hearts .

My name is Prejudice
I live in the hearts of all humans
You've heard of me , haven't you?
I am black as the darkest alley,
Where a Jewish boy was lynched with glee.
As terrible as the thoughts
that slowly set my evil free.
As common as air,
And just as needed for survival.!.
Where would the world be without me?
I can drive the nicest person to his Doom,
And bring the foulest to the Top.
I can torture you to Madness,
And never ever stop.
No one can escape from me.
Rich,poor,ugly,handsome,
I am always there!
Don't fool yourself, human,
I am everywhere.
I am everything, yet nothing,
So long as I shall live.
Destructive as a hurricane,
Blasting through a town.
Heed my advice, child,
It may just let you live free.
Save yourself -- and others
And stay away from me.

Lavanya Desai

In Chains

A sense of unease
Bridles the heart
A mind in distress
Unable to part
With thoughts and dreams
Unbidden they spring
Unfulfilled by day
In twilight lingering
Twisting and turning
Brewing more fertile
Unwanted colour
And designs inverted
Words have more meaning
In idleness to float
Depressing, demeaning
Endless a moat
Within isolation
A new form arises
With hearts and freedom
For steeper prices
Such is the manner
Of sorrow in rage
We choose to bind
Our souls in a cage.

Sreedevi.