We celebrate 5th September as teachers’ day

Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan was born on this very day

He showed the Indian nation the right way

His debt how can we repay?



He is a universal teacher

And a man of inimitable stature

Wisdom and simplicity are the hallmarks of his feature

Incomparable oration is his nature



He rose to the nation’s highest post

And tried to build a bridge between east and west

His philosophical teachings are the best

And his knowledge of English is very vast



He is Plato’s philosopher king

As President honour and dignity did he bring

He brought religion a new meaning

His glory and greatness I would like to sing



Yours sincerely,

JVL NARASIMHA RAO

INDIA

If wishes were fishes,
I'd have a whole bunch.
Swimming in fishbowls,
Awaiting their lunch.

If wishes were french fries,
I'd have a caboodle.
Frying in the skillet,
To feed to my poodle.

If wishes were colors,
I'd have a rainbow.
Coloring the world,
In hues of magenta and mango.

If wishes were flowers,
I'd have a garden full.
Showing their pretty faces,
And smelling of taffy pull.

If wishes were mine,
I'd hand out a dozen.
To every girl and boy,
To each uncle and cousin.

Walking is the king of exercises

It suits different age groups

And is useful for both genders

Its results are unbelievable wonders



Walk for five kilometers a day

And keeps the doctor away

You need not run like a race

But can walk at your own pace



Walking relieves your hypertension

And keeps your heart in good condition

It is a must for a diabetic

And is possible for a paralytic



It improves your vitality

And enhances your longevity

You can walk preferably in the morning

Or at least in the evening



Walking removes your bad cholesterol

And saves the consumption of petrol

Why do you eat carcinogenic fast foods in a pub?

Why don’t you join  a walkers’ club?

I am a huge tree
And I am very free
My roots are in the Indian soil
But branched out in the west with great toil

People say my roots are not seen
But my leaves are green
The trunk is very high
It is growing into the sky

The roots may be bitter
The fruits may be sweeter
I know without roots
There are no fruits

I grow up further
My roots are very stronger
I don’t know which tree I am
But I am very calm

No tempest can shake me
In my grove the bee makes honey
If you want to name
Please do it for my fame

Yours sincerely,
JVL NARASIMHA RAO
INDIA

I always ask myself who I am
The question does not let me calm
I think I am an Indian
Some body says 'You are a great father’s son'

I am an Andhraite by birth
And happy to live on this earth
My mother tongue Telugu makes me a man
The other tongue English makes me a Universal human

I know I am a tiny drop in this vast universe
And do not have a big money purse
I have resorted to some immature verse
I know not why to some life becomes a curse

I know I am no longer young
I can’t always sing
The tiredness the old age will bring
But I feel as If I were a poetic king

One day I will leave this poetic kingdom
Some times I am enveloped with this boredom
No king Lives on this kingdom for ever
But the kingdom is a perennial river

An unknown poet lives in a village
HELLO POETRYhas become his only adage
He lives with his mother
From her womb he came one day
And also lives with his wife
Into his womb he goes every day
He had two lovely daughters
They are as pure as rain waters
His wife loves him
But hates his mother
His mother too loves him
But hates his wife
They look two poles apart
And for his autobiography became the plot
When his children were younger
They loved their grand mother
But they now love their own mother
These happenings silently the poet has to bother
When there is a quarrel between the two
The poet says ”much might be said on both sides”
Because he can not take any sides
The poet’s wife wishes for his mother’s death
But his mother does not want to leave this earth
Only God should show the poet the right path

Drona was a great teacher of archery
He taught it to Pandavas and kauravas
Arjuna was his  favourite disciple
He liked him for his pious principle

Drona promised to make him the best
In any form of archery test
One day A tribal came to Drona
And requested him to teach the craft

The master asked him for his caste
The tribal revealed the fact
Drona told him he would teach only the upper-caste
And leave the place in great haste

The Tribal,Ekalavya, Made an idol of his master
And became an invincible archer
Drona and Arjuna came to the forest
The former considered the tribal was the best

Drona asked for the tribal’s  master
And surprised to find the answer
And demanded his right thumb as a gift
Ekalavya offered it as a token of great respect

I have a wound that only trust will heal,
a scab encrusted on my bleeding soul.
Your eyes will tell me how much to reveal.

At first, the pain was much too great to feel;
the void within a black and gaping hole.
I have a wound that only trust will heal.

I learned the need to cover and conceal -
to curse the hurt and go on with my role.
Your eyes will tell me how much to reveal.

Love's embrace a temporary seal,
the depths too raw for topical control;
I have a wound that only trust will heal.

Another saw it, said it was not real
and did not want to see I was not whole;
your eyes will tell me how much to reveal.

Debride the edges gently, I appeal;
a healing touch will help the stitches hold.
I have a wound that only trust will heal;
your eyes will tell me how much to reveal.

I would be content to be a constant star,
or better still, a constellation
shining brightly in your nighttime from afar;
a trusted guide, an inspiration.

Inner motivation pushed me from my place
and sent me hurtling through the skies,
chancing an encounter with your whirling grace
and the shining smiling of your eyes.

Now not driven, only being drawn to you
by planetary force - not gravity,
but stronger still - the sight of someone being true,
the steady pull of honesty.

Plunging, reckless, through your atmosphere of care,
drinking in your warmth until I glow
and burst - a billion blooming wishes everywhere -
too briefly, brightly burning as I go.

I have been condemned to be a shooting star,
one who deals in days and not forevers.
Time too short to catch enough of who you are
to last throughout a thousand nevers.

A true friend adds meaning to your life
A man may not have a wife
But without a friend his life is mere strife
Loneliness is a double edged knife

A woman may not have a husband
But a friend is a must on this land
He/she lends his/her helping hand
Without a friend her life is as wasteful as sand

A friend shares our joy
Our heart becomes as light as a toy
A true friend shares our grief
The suffering becomes very brief

Tell me your friend, I will tell what you are
A friend should be a shining star
He will give us light
And makes our lives bright

Why don’t you choose a nice friend?
Your boredom will soon end
Friendship is a beautiful flower
It is the gift of our life giver

A friend should be our life’s cream
He/she should be a part of our team
Life is just like a game
Losing it sometimes is not a shame

A friend relieves your gloom
He/she makes your life bloom
Our life is a beautiful dream
We should make it a running stream

In India pongal is the best festival
It is not a mere ritual
We celebrate it in January
It is very very customary
It lasts for three days
Bhogi,sankranti and kanuma are the days.
On the first day we have a holy bath
Thinking that it sets us on the right path
Early in the morning we sit around the bhogi fire
Thinking it is the demon Ravana’s pyre
We put on a new and attractive attire
Dreaming life is a joyful boat shire
Children make wreaths of cowdung
Throw them into the fire like a gold ring
The villages are full of colourful bullocks
We sing folk songs taking neem sticks
The bride groom leaves for the mother-in-law’s house
The bride waits for him wearing a new saree and a blouse
Father-in-law gives the groom a costly gift
Mother-in-law makes a sumptuous feast
Younger sister-in-law teases the groom
The bride and the groom confine to the room
Mother prepares delicious dishes and pickles
Father goes to the farm worshipping the sickles
On the last day we go to the temple fair
I hope I made the happy pongal very clear
Yours sincerely,
JVL NARASIMHA RAO