Shadow games:

I have a little shadow that is always

with me

And as the day passes, it takes

different shapes.

In the morning, it looks big, fresh

and clean

During the day it is as small as

a small tin.

It is on my bed before I jump down

I am not fat but it looks very plump.

It copies my every action

And follows me even if I am in a lake.

I like my shadow though I can’t

play with it

I can’t see him properly if the light is dim.

— Shulav Uprety, Class V, Gems, Lalitpur

Twinkling hopes:

A dark far away night

I saw little twinkling stars

Are they fighting

On this dark far away night?

I thought of counting my twinkling hopes

One day I will touch with the help of rope

Oh! how would my world look from there

And then how would I return here?

One, two, three... when would I score?

Not a few, they are more

How do I count? When do I end?

— Roshan Shrestha, Class VIII, Prithwi Secondary Boarding School, Kathmandu

Eyes beautiful:

An innocent face like the clear skies

Twinkling stars are your lovely eyes

Like the deep ocean when filled with tears

And dreams of fear

The world can be seen in your eyes

A lovely smile, love wherein lies

Twinkling stars are your lovely eyes.

— Rina Yadav, Class VII, Nightingale International Boarding School, Kathmandu

Earth:

Earth is the place where we are born

It is a place where we live and earn

Here we go to school and learn

The place where we are born.

Earth gives us everything

But why can’t we give back any thing

Which costs nothing

But counts for everything

— Akriti Dahal, Class V, GEMS, Lalitpur

Respect time:

Repentence and

purposeless fun

Gradually cloud my heart

As time welcomes the dawn

Hours that I dwindled away

Retreating myself to the feet

Of fake play

Looks to me I am a slave

To the monkey residing

in my brain

Glamour and luxury

distract me

I take no need of my duty

Cautiously unaware

That’s the worst thing to be.

So, let us all

Respect the value of time

And leave all miseries

behind.

— Pooja Karki, Class XII, United Academy

Hourglass:

Mint in the breath, makes green grass

Sway mildly on a wet wind, curling

Around a corner by the old house.

Soft skin tremor, sends autumn leaves

Skimming over dusty tracks, raising

Warm ghosts in the mild afternoon.

Long distance whisper, writhes time

Out of turn. Lonesome roads, shampoo

Soft hands cradle fragile fragrance.

Blue of the eye, weaves space for patterns

Yet to come. Thoughtless tears, smiles

Quite faithless, ink days’ hours.

— Govind Mishra