Poems on "Institution"

Gurukulam’s Modern Education

a poem by

Thareja Priyavrat

The curriculum of education in Gurukulam,
Produced disciples as cool as lamb.
Though as tall in values as a tomb,
And as secure in knowledge as child in womb,
Mythologically they well acquainted with God Ram,
Yet mystically they were equally cupid with small RAM
Using PC’s to operating excellence of PARAM (Indian Super Computer)
It is integrating technologically with precious DHARAM
Such, Gurukulam Shishyas today can holistically plan,
What rest consider as Chewing (iron) Grams.

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Legendary Body Exist

a poem by

Jayati

Libraries, bookstore
Pleasure trip indoors
Glamour glance,
Heart dance conga
Aroma- in residence
Increase hunger
Volatile conglomerate
Insatiate appetite
Non-stop gratis
Feast in greedy mind.

Inquisitive, curious
Gulp in, sheen shine-
Seek knowledge
Desirous
Eat books endless.
History, geography
Science-
Sports and medicine
Include glossy magazines
Eyes, twirling trance.

Rows of discipline
Arranged neat and clean.
Housed in chambers
Shelves with numbers
Filing cabinets
Push, pull drawers
Search for bookmarks.
Bodylines stay fine, eager students.
On shelf hard bound
Benefit lawyers, as well doctors.

Keeps fit tannoy, revert, and revise.
Tailor-made, rudiment rubrics, share in members
Centuries’ advantage, useful computers.
Sub-lease discs, disk, books, and journals.
Mostly free, it is – resonance competence.
Voracious ocular, vociferous silence-
Hard mettle theories, settle soft, on shoulders.
Mavericks mind, steams – James Watt.
Atmosphere is sacred
To Saraswati Goddess of learning, our votives – worships.
Great pleasures found treasure in buildings, storing books.
A wishful motive is to vaporise, secure inside libraries.
As legendary body, thus continue to exist!

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Freshen Woodland

a poem by

Jayati

Freshen Woodland for Health and Wealth

Woodland changed for better into a concrete slum.
Inside storied chambers, miserable poverty strolls numb.

Had I been up and down there
Would have, never allowed this still
These lacking of simple ideas, taking on its toll
Wiping out standards, smiles, and goodwill
Years of hard work, and toil meticulously, built.

However, the trees are in their original place
The walls but covered with burrows
Neutral whitewashed replaced by mindlessness
Health and hygiene a causing sorrow.

Terrible sad incision and omission
Brushing the corridors in various blues
Pennywise pound-foolish decision
With mosquito bites, disappointment the soothers blew.
Thus Luxmi, Narayanan, Medha, Pardhan struck flu.

Magnetic Resonance Imaging no more
Just photo shot thrown, through and through-
Tramping trapping pigeons
No solution to heal and earn practice, true-

Operation in green, good theatre action
With sure prevention, better than cure, crew.
Nevertheless,
Rescue woodland from deterioration.
Not much may, pretend pink of health, account eyesore.
Nor that an empty pocket acute, could.

Responsible who is for this insolence, state?
Is Joy relay, anyone listening?
In nineteen ninety-six inside the aeroplane
Met this bespectacled, light-complexion,
Sourpuss woman
She was, Woodland, literally licking.
Wonder her motive, what could she gain?
Why she had been such a negative liaison fist ling?

Perhaps because this beautiful woodland green
Was, city dweller’s only hope for ‘health is wealth’ pristine!

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Alma Mater

a poem by

Gummadapu Narasimha Rao

O My Alma Mater glitters as lore splendid
Mellow mentor, lure deity of gaiety placid,
Seminary beholds lucid deeds of boyhood
So my heart reacts as buoyant harp indeed.

Incites redundant teens to redolent pedants
Showers solace on souls, the student stunts,
Academy averts sable scans epoch twilight
Spell of shrills and yells tells era of delight.

Teachers bless credible wisdom to taughts
Holding canes suave to feed sane thoughts,
Tackle the disciples, alike village preacher
Impart erudition endless just the preceptor.

Old student guild pats allay allies all alleys
And bind pal-cluster to ruminate yore days,
Yore slender-tender kids now adult-exulted
We, let as wards, award to Minerva exalted.

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Last Conversation

a poem by

Manish Tembhurkar

Boy : “What I did for four years?
     With Broadened Gates and white Pillars!”
     Shaking my Head I move ahead,
     Carrying the eyes of empty tears.

IT : Stop! The IT said,
     I gave my name to give you fame.

Boy : “The fame of everlasting stain!
     In the society of Bread for the sane.”
     I turned my head on silly phrase,
     Gave a smile and walk for a while.

IT : “I opened the books and workshop booth
     To acquaint you with the technical truth.”

Boy : Suddenly listening the library silence and lab work assignments,
     Fulled my nerves with the handy confidence.
     “I learned things with practical sense,
     But have I focused any Innovative lens.”

IT : “I picked the gems, to make your friends
     And gave the reasons, to gather on occasions.”

Boy : Thrilled with the fulled nerves,
     Grilled with the friendship curves.
     “In reminiscences I found the Gossips, the emotional affair,
     And the life facing advises, which a friend could only dare.”

IT : “I gave you teachers and a master preacher,
     To teach you every path, to pave in life.”

Boy : I stand silent, to think its meaning,
     Then stepped proud, with heartbeats raised.
     “Your great teachings and your great preachings,
     Your principles and ideals really a guide.”

IT : “I gave you thoughts and perception to think,
     A spiritual technique to logically link,
     Fight out the troubles, fierce and brave,
     Aim your goals day and night,
     And prove my glorious birth and might.”

Boy : I nod my head and move ahead,
     Carrying the benign wishes of our IT.
     Leaving a drop of salty water,
     Which whispered “Good bye My Alma Matar.”

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