MANASI KATRAGADDA
EDUCATOR | SOCIAL ENTREPRENEUR | ARTIST | WRITER |
POEMS
Manasi writes on things that speak to her.
She illustrates her poems.
Sit back. Read. Enjoy.
Illustrations and text copyright (c) Manasi Katragadda
(c)Manasi Katragadda
Tree
When you were a sapling,
I watched your leaves
grow from few to many more.
How much I clapped when your stem grew branches on its own.
And when the seasons came and went,
Towards the sky your stem was bent.
I grew as you grew.
You from a sapling to a tall young tree.
Me from a child to an adult.
I was out in the real world making my dreams come true.
just as you were branching out into a big strong tree.
Everyday that I stood right under you,
Looking through the gaping hole in your leaves
I stared right into the sky.
It was the universe staring back at me.
Asking me if I noticed the twinkling stars in the sky.
You, tree still stand there
spreading your branches wide and far
even when rain and storms lash against your bark with strength at par.
The sapling you once were are now wise and intact,
Watching each day that I will be back.
There are things changing all around you every minute.
There are wonders happening everywhere around you
Every moment, if you can just see.
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You just need to open yourself to see and feel.
And then you too can experience the magic.
A moment that comes by just like that
Without thinking much.
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Just when you think you haven’t seen anything yet.
Just feel it.
No need to say anything.
You’ll know it soon enough.
A moment of wonder
(c)Manasi Katragadda
The cost of making things
The thick black smoke is up high in the sky early in the morning.
So thick that the sky’s blue disappears.
Only when the smoke stops the sky is back and blue it appears.
The birds fly away,
They scatter in fear.
The pigeons fly away.
The cranes fly away.
The eagle flies away.
Run, they fly away.
Nobody’s out there anymore.
But how can we stop say the factories?
The more we make, the more they buy from us.
We have to make more, more they say.
There are families to feed,
Households to run.
The price of factories that nature pays.
That is felt by those that live in nature.
When does it stop.
Is there a better way to do things.
A better way to produce things I ask.
(c)Manasi Katragadda
Bud to a flower
I am a tiny bud
Inconspicuous, hidden in leaves.
Just a bud, I’ve been told.
Simple I might look.
Tiny I might be.
Butterflies check me out.
Ants pass me by.
Bees hover around me.
Right now, I am small.
They let me be.
Someday they’ll come by to collect nectar.
A chameleon sits on my stalk
Smelling my sweet fragrance.
A lot of steps I need to make
In that journey into a flower.
365 days of sunlight.
365 days of water.
Then one day I grow into a bud from within the plant.
And I move on
To that journey to a flower.
I am a bud the previous evening
Then I begin opening, growing,
Slowly an hour at a time.
By early morning
I am fully open.
Now I am the flower.
And I am ready to be used in the bouquet.
‘Hi, nice to meet you’, says the sunlight to me.
(c)Manasi Katragadda
Sweet mango
Well it isn’t officially summer
Until mangoes appear in the supermarket.
They have traveled distances from far,
Sitting in crates boxed and wrapped.
Onto the ships and over the ocean.
And then onto fleets of trucks.
They make their way into cities and towns.
Bringing sweet smells of summer and trees with fruit.
Make you think of recipes of all kinds.
Mango salad, mango smoothies and shakes
or into pieces eaten just like that.
Or if you’re one to sit on the lawn
in chairs swinging your feet,
When your feet touch the wet grass,
All you want to do is to just get up and dance
With a glass of mango juice in your hand.
