Perennial Poetry

  Her When the whole world praises her beauty, Only she knows the stories behind her scars, The things she goes through quietly, And the days she feels like she’s put behind bars. Sometimes she fakes a smile, For the sake of her and everyone else; She is appreciated for her unprecedented style, But who cares about the things she never tells? She wears her heart on her sleeve, She undoubtedly is an admiration; But would anyone really believe The life she lives behind people’s perception? She cares and she loves, She offers endless support without hesitation; But she also cries and questions Her worthiness despite the external perfection. She knows her scars mark her stories, They make up who she is; Despite all her glories, There is always more to who she is. -Jaanvi Veluguleti

Holidays’ Reminiscence I feel the boredom sinking in, The holidays are not quite how they used to be. There are no prizes or contests for me to win, It seems like the world has stopped for me. It was always a holiday thing, To wake up, even though a little late, And gather around with friends for playing; I cannot name better holiday moments to date. Until one day all of it went into oblivion, And gone were the days of games and fun, Of puzzles, hopscotch, and badminton; All these ancient joys mock back at me like a pun. Flashes of those moments still come to me, The songs, the scents, and the films of the holidays; There was no one to tell me how to be, And I still say, “Oh gosh! Those were the days!” I would collect shells from piles of sand, I would throw stones in little lakes, I would alertly wait for my grandma’s command, To open the oven and take out the cupcakes. Taking long strolls together, With no to-do lists in mind, Except for holiday homework to ruin the weather; These me...