Poets, the real heroes

Express Poetry Contest 2019 on Saturday turned out to be a sweet affair with budding poets
excitedly presenting their evocative poems

Published: 17th September 2019 05:30 AM  |   Last Updated: 17th September 2019 05:30 AM   |  A+A-

Participants at Express Poetry Contest 2019 (Photo | EPS)

Express News Service

HYDERABAD: It was about expression, about emotion, words, rhymes, sonnets and more. The Express Poetry 2019 contest organised by The New Indian Express, Hyderabad, on Saturday morning at Alliance Francaise was a burst of all the above and students from the twin cities added to the drama of words with their own take on monsoons in Hyderabad, the topic for the day. The two-hour brisk event from 9 am to 11 am saw the participation of 25 finalists who were shortlisted from a few hundred students across schools and junior colleges from the twin cities.

Each participant was asked to recite their poem in five minutes live to the audience. While Anjali’s poem talked about Rio samosas and hot biryani as it rains, another student talked about the lost opportunity to direct the water towards rainwater harvesting pit. Another one’s take was observing Hyderabadis getting drenched in the rain as she caught the glimpses from a moving bus. Can rain also evoke patriotism? Looks like it does, as a student read out his poem which talks about the rain making him love India and Hyderabad all over again. The budding poets also added Hyderabadi and Telangana flavour by liberally using native words and giving their poetry a local feel. From Khairatabad to Amberpet, Charminar to Monda Market, all these city landmarks featured in their young and evocative poetry. Students from Villa Marie College, Bhavan’s Jubilee Hills, Army Public School Bolarum and Army Public School, RK Puram and Pallavi Model School Bowenpally and Alwal branches participated in the finale.

The jury of the day – Prof EM Veda Sharan and Asst Prof Sharada  Mani, from EFLU, listened and responded to the poems. Prof Sharan gave them tips on how to better their expression through words. “You are all gifted. Do not let this passion die because you get busy with your job,” he added. Prof Sharada told them to do whatever it takes to keep the poets in them alive. She told them to find professional editors to help them understand what works and what doesn’t. She suggested that editors in this case could be a parent or an elder cousin who will be the sounding board. The event was an attempt to connect with young, thinking Hyderabadis, the target of the newspaper, and the poetry event helped in achieving the same. The poetry contest ended with prize distribution with the top three poems getting awarded and all participants getting a participation certificate.

Sriya Peruka
1st year Inter,  Villa marie college

God’s Plan
Lost in the city of pearls in the middle of confusion,
Clouds so dark without an illusion;
Feet all wet,head under a shade,
Beady,worried eyes wandering for aid.
Honks of the cars and screams of weasels,
Hustles and bustles of pure lethal;
Manic behaviour causing calamity,
Bringing misfortune to those around nastily.
The ground filled with brown water below knees,
Drunk by the poor little girl without ease:
Mosquitos around the trash dumped on the road,
Flying to the food easten with no health code.
Wandering eyes have come to an end,
Brave soul came searching to defend;
Held my hand to safeguard,
To protect me from junkyard.
Loss of the shade and desruction of dreams,
Betrayal of god to not gleam;
Ended the fool’s paradise with a heavy heart,
Trying hard to not break apart.
The strong man carried his weak boy,
Eyes filled with nostalgic tears to fly;
Heart’s filled with masterplan,
To take us back to where life began.
The weakened wings ready to fly,
But not in my heart to die;
The tried soul of mine looked up in the sky,
To think,”Is this really a goodbye?”
Years have passed with the greatest loss,
But awareness raised made the city gloss;
Reduction of global warming gave birth to many,
Filling the poor little girl’s belly.
The fresh and lovely sepember made me alittle girl,
I opened my hands and whirled;
Cried in realization,
Thet god’s plan is greater than our masterplan.                                                 


1st year inter, Villa marie college

Monsoons of Hyderabad
She watches the grey skies roar with thunder,
As nature displays its rare art of wonder.
Nature in its way shreds its pain,
But a source which helps life to sustain.
As pearls of water trail down her skin,
Lighting her soul deep within.
Listening to the rythm of the falling rain,
She wishes to dance away all her pain.
Raindrops softly tapping the windows,
Horning its arrival where ever it goes.
The dust of the busy city settles to mud,
She happily watches flowers bloom from the buds.
She runs her hand through the wet blades of the grass,
As monsoons of Hyderabad have arived at last.
Farmers to children,peacocks to trees,
There isn’t a single one who doesn’t enjoy this wet breeze.
These monsoons of Hyderabad have presented her a realisation,
That life is just a wonderful imagination.
As the melodious rain sings her a lullaby,
She closes her eyes with a blissful sigh.



Shreen kaur
Class 8, Army Public school, Bolarum.

The Monsoon Here
The monsoon here,so much like love in our hearts;
Flickering,but always there
Hiding,moving,running,can never show how much it cares,
Can only nurture in the most selfless way.
The monsoon here,so much like every thought we have;
With each thought like a drop,going deep down,
Making an impact,
Not visible to the naked eye,
But shaping our very soul.
The monsoons here,so much like the emotions we feel,
Sometimes totally empty,
And sometimes outbursts of zeal.
The sky,cries for the monsoon,
But never cries when its empty,
It cries when it feels;
The downpour of love,
The sorrow of the sky,
By emptying itself,fills the emptiness inside us,
And with every drop,
Some part of us it heals.
The monsoon here,sso much like the battkles inside us;
The battles:thundering,shrienking,howling,calling out for help;
But then,
There’s sunshine,
Lifting us up,
Filling the rainbows inside us,
That this beautiful city wears;
Every thunder,now the brightness that makes it shine;
Every shriek,now the sound of music;
Every howl,now a breath of fresh air;
Its sad and haappy how the city never cries;
Butr gets washed out;
When the monsoon brings with itself memories,
Of everything thats beautiful,
Of everything that exists.
Isn’t it ironic?
The monsoon here,so much like the cycle of life and death;
Bringing with itself freshness and life,
But at the same time,
Walking with us towards doom,
With our every breath.



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