The Last Breath

The dust has settled; silence resounds,
I'm unsure if I'm flying or aground;
Unaware of anything but the cold,
Wrapping itself around, like a lover of old.
Who am I? Where am I? This I cannot recall,
There's nothing to think of this moment, at all.
I hope, against everything, there's comfort ahead,
These rocks at my back, make not warm a bed.
Something flows out of these things I call eyes,
Tears or blood? reminiscent of lies;
Promises I made when I said I would return,
To the smile of a child, it makes my chest burn.
I see them before me, reach out my fingers,
Nothing happens, no movement lingers.
Blackness is calling, why did I come here?
Ill fated decisions, there's unguarded fear;
Hope has left me, there's nothing to try,
I welcome the stillness, and the grey afterlife.

Sreedevi

A Year and A Day...

You’ll see that one day you wake up,
And notice inside you,
There’s something missing that you can’t decide on;
You’re sure of a space that used to be filled
But the edges are a blur and the memories riddled
With time playing havoc on all that you own;
It resides at the back of your mind
And it shows up when you have the time
To spare, in your busy life;
Apart from the occasional letter and missive,
It’s not the top in your Priorities’ Line;
Now it’s too late, it’s a year and a day,
No place for you at the round table,
You’ve outgrown the chair set out in your name;
This is what happens when friends grow apart,
Or you grow apart from your friends;
Pictures seem perfect enough without you,
And the insider jokes no longer make sense;
Learn that the chapters in a book have to end
It may have been good, but it helps to pretend
That some things are best forgotten in grace
Turn around, turn away; Just turn the page.

Sreedevi.

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.

Dandelions in the sky...

Empty inside, light-headed feeling,
Cotton ball mouth and sand in my eyes;
This is how it feels the day after
Faith is lost in most things alive.
A pang in the chest where
A heart’s supposed to beat slow,
But there is no rhythm this time;
Now, somehow it feels like
Killing some large part of mine.
Chills in my spine, ache in my throat,
A burning behind my eyes;
I can’t break a promise again,
The one where I promised never to cry.
Never, seems to be too long a word,
Broken too soon to deny;
Emptiness and loneliness, two strong words;
Too powerful to defy.
What shall one use to fill,
Such a gaping hole with?
Pennies, and wishes aside;
Faith leaves too large a hole,
To fill with more meaningless lies.
Dreams are left dangling,
And hopes are left streaked,
With tears from invisible vines;
Choking and holding no more,
They wither and die.
Clockwork in movement,
Nothing has changed,
Except for no life in your smile;
No one seems to care anyway,
Lost in a giant fog outside.
No sound comes at that moment,
No howling of winds,
Nor lightening cutting the night;
You wake up one morning, and it’s gone,
Dandelions in the sky.

Sreedevi

Celebration of the Dead

In the land of the dead
There is a celebration
Where skeletons dance in streets
In gowns of silk and satin

With no shoes to cover up
The stark white shattered toes
Gentlemen have tread upon
Remorseless and morose

The dresses were once white
And adorned with pretty lace
Now they are stained crimson
Matching a bruised bloody face

In the land of they dead
They dance in celebration
Lifting up what’s left of broken
Hearts and decayed emotions

There’s a peace in their chests
Where hearts haven’t beaten
In so very long a while
Longer than time they haven’t eaten

Dried flowers in hairless skulls
Are the only bright thoughts
These women have in their head
It’s all they have ever got.

In the land of the dead
There’s always celebration
More and more come in for peace
Children, and women, in exultation.


Suspended in time, they no longer care
For the dead have no clocks to weep
Late, late, it is too late;
Now there is no wait for sleep.


Sreedevi