The Veteran Philosopher

Morning approaches with his brightness,

students wakes up with freshness.

Voice of the be nch,desk,blackboard-

"come for class.. come for class"-echoed aloud

Around 6:30 am is the time of his boardering,

when no student comes,out of fearing.

Bhataa..Bhataa of the old stone age scooter,

brings the message of Sir's arrival.

Baldness and dense forest below his lips makes him look like ninety-five,

but, actually he is merely forty- five.

Qualities of true teacher are his jewels,

which enlightens every corner of hearts.

Quotation on the blackboard every morning,

enhances the Vimala Convent School's charming.

His commanding voice echoes on the atmosphere,

makes every student tremble with fear.

Peace -the ultimate desire,what his soul speaks,

indisciple is what he can't tolerate atleast.

Kids listen joyfully the undulation of topic,

Yet, the teacher directs them to write on the topic.

Philosophy,facts,critising verses are the spontaneous creation,

which giggles the heart of young generation.

Mysterious life, with which he dealt while teaching

makes everyone burst into laughing.

Thugs are the most alert student,

as they are always ready for stunt.

Machine ,Wheely are the reward of wrongdoers,

but, can an innocent student forget his admirer.

His graceful support is very helpful,

to develop the personality brightful.

Sounds of his scooter fades away,

as his vehicle pass away.

And the school waits for the next day to come.

(p.s-pen down during my schooling in Vimala Convent School,Bhawanipatna , as a token of respect for my Oriya teacher)

Uneroded School Memory

 Tin.. tin voice of the bell,

still rings in my brain's cell.

Shouts emerging from the classrooms,

still reminds about my childhood dreams.

Greetings the teacher,"Good Morning",

Reflectingly,provoke teacher's praising.

Their teaching always makes us joyful,

which later on, are very useful.

Assembling on the ground for prayer,

Nurture deep feelings about "The Creator".

Monotonous chorus songs of the prayer group,

Till date I cherish in my blood group.

Peeping of the teacher through the window,

Transform the room into a meadow.

Volume of the murmur intensify,

as the teacher step forward with shy.

Unrhythmic drill on saturday chilly morning,

Engulf every teacher with spirit of checking.

A hot eye stares at them, 

who are  really unfit for the team.

Treasure boxes of our school sits in a row,

to compose story on,"Fox and Crow".

On pen and paper, they displayed their creativity,

who are credited for their curricular activity.

Speeches of young participants on the forum,

gains cheering for their oration.

But, fumbling voice of other participants,

certainly were rewarded comments.

Kicking,hitting,dribbling are our House game,

Nehru,Subhash,Gandhi,Shastri are always ready to claim.

painful shout,victory cry of contestant,

propagates the wave of contentment.

Forgetting these school days memory,

signify that we have lost our life diary.

Cherish it till you live 

And it will make you feel ease.

(p.s- This poem was pen down during my school days)