Yours and Mine
The moon and sun have lost their shine
the night stars are no longer mine
the world I once had on a string
is now among my precious lost things
the telephone no longer rings
her favourite song I no longer sing
her favourite dress that I used to wear
reminds me that she no longer cares
her coffee cup up on the sink
only makes me stop and think
of all the times and wines we shared
while building dreams out somewhere
our walks and talks
with those dreams just slightly out of reach
believing our love was strong and true
never wanted any person but you
but now some dreams have withered and died
there will be no more sandcastles in the sky
that breathless feeling is no longer there
or the thrill of a kiss that once was
shared
gone is the lovelight from the eyes
some dream has withered and died
it’s sad to know it was yours and mine!
But I just wanna to pray you my sweet dish
Please come back in my activity and
Again we say you are mine !
Aksham Jandial
(Teh-Majalta)
Udhampur
Infinity
All is infinite.
How can it be possible?
I do not know.
I only know finite
Is not possible.
All is one.
How can it be possible?
I do not know.
I only know two or more
Cannot be possible.
It’s an endless journey.
How can it be possible?
I do not know.
I only know
End is not possible.
We have endless past.
How can it be possible?
I do not know.
I only know
Birth is not possible.
Sujit De
GOOD HEALTH
Health is the most valuable wealth,
I hope you agree,
No doubt, health is the sweetest fruit of life tree,
Do not abuse your body,
develop it sound and strong,
And ensure a life full of happiness,
beside being long.
Good health is the best source of constant treat,
Money can buy you food, but bad health won’t let you eat.
Good health turns your life
into charm and grace,
With everybody bowing before your face
Good health is a kind gift of God and a bliss,
What we do with it is a gift
from us to God with a kiss
Praniti Jamwal
6-A, St. Mary’s
Presentation Convent School
Gandhi Nagar, Jammu
EVERY SUNDAY MORNING
The ringing of the doorbell,
every Sunday morning,
sets me running as fast,
as if someone had given a fire warning.
Out of my bed I jump,
landing on the floor with a thump.
Putting on my slippers,
I run past the yummy Sunday Kippers.
I ignore my mum’s shouts,
telling me not to run here about.
I sprint towards the wooden door,
turning down every chore.
I turn the handle and pull it towards me.
I lower my eyeballs and the ground I see.
On the front steps, I find my bundle of joy,
‘The Excelsior Magazine,’ waiting for me to be read by.
Shreya Sharma
Changran, Kathua
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