From the Labour room

This is my cut which saved you,
And was the love which wrapped you.
You were born in my heart;
And preserved in my womb,
And now; The world is visible for you.
You were safe for the past months,
unaware of the conflicts and riots,
in my cave of water and flesh.
And now;You are going to know the life.
And I am going to watch the life,
And ready to sacrifice myself.
In this labour room,
I deliver my king who fights the battle.
And this is the cut,
which promise you;
my blood and heart,
And you will dwell in my mind.

Alone in the church

The knell of glory,
awakened me and;
I found myself alone,
before the holy grail,
waiting the nightingales,
to begin the session.
No one had yet come,
And along the dead ones,
I stood besides the door.
I hope my friends would,
join me soon,and
I can leave the holy premise.
But I awaited them,
with the pious ancesters.

Chess; the battleground

Sixty four squares;
with  black white crosses;
like a battleground,
White moves the first.
The  letter loving knights,
and  diagonal moving bishops,
Powerful Rook who move freely,
And queen is there for king.
The pawns who castle the warriors,
And the square is full of warriors.

From students

O  my dear teacher!
Like cocoon in dry shell,
waiting to  come out,
We are safe in  your presence.
Those who pave light,
in our way are honoured.
Those who supply wisdom,
are worshipped in hearts.
Ignorance are not to hurt,
But to be rectified.
Mistakes and folly;
are to be reversed,
with the guidance.
We owe to be Ekalavyas,
And not tears in your eyes.

Niobe,the weeping stone

I am the weeping stone,
you see in Asia Minor.
I was born to Tantalus,
and Amphion garlanded me.
But now I stand on Mount Siphylus,
with rock face and weeping eyes.
I lost my kids for my pride.
I boasted and got Leto's wrath.
Apollo,the sun god slayed my sons.
Arthemis, killed my ladies too.
As a lost mother,I am imprisoned
in this Phyrgian rock alive,
and with streamed water.
I am Niobe,the subject of vengeance,
And the tragic mother of Thebes.

Touch me Not

Touch me not;
As I will droop,
and loose my strength.
Touch me not;
As I cannot tolerate,
the heat and storm.
Touch me not;
As I am tender,
and can't be hurt.
Touch me not;
As I am sensitive,
and can't bear sorrow.
Touch me not;
As I will close,
my eyes to eternity.
Touch me not;
is my defence too,
But not to overthrow
your arrogance.

Jocasta;the tragic being

I am Jocasta,the Grecian lady,
who underwent all miseries.
I am the mother;who
became wife of own son.
I am the grandmother;who
gave birth to grandchildren.
I am the Theban lady,who
was the wife of an immature king,
who kidnapped legacy of Elis.
I was the womb;
who carried the swollen foot,
and his offsprings too.
I am the queen;
who hanged myself.
And I am Jocasta,the being
who underwent all sufferings
an earthly apparition could have.