Best Hindus Poems
There's a Train
Going to Peace Station.
Christians, Buddhists,
Hindus, Atheists,
Each occupied a Compartment,
But never Bothered one another,
Just like the Two Rails of the Track
That Travel Together but Never Meet.
Everyone's Ticket is to Peace,
They traveled in Communities and
Their Compartment Number
Never really mattered.
Then came budding Islam,
Who wanted their own Engine, Though
They are Destined to the Same Station.
They made an Exact Replica of the Train,
Their 'Fight' for Peace overshadowed
Their Destination and they Launched
Their Train on the Same Tracks,
But in the Opposite Direction.
Compartments filled with Innocent Followers,
but Engines Piloted by Terrorists
And Religious Leaders.
They only Focused on Increasing
The Number of Compartments
To gain Strength and Accelerated
As Fast as they Can.
But One Thing They Failed to Realize is,
No matter how Long the Train is,
On Collision, Whole Train Derails,
Killing Innocent Passengers, on Both Trains.
You're wearing the cap with the crooked cross emblem,
hoisting your neo-Nazi flag high
You dream of a revived Fourth Reich kingdom,
hoping that you see it before you die
"Hate your neighbor" is your rallying call,
it's the opposite of what Jesus Christ said to us all
Blacks
Jews
Muslims
Hindus
You hate them all equally the same
Refugees
Homosexuals
Homeless
Foreign nationals
You hate them all, no matter what their name
"Love thy enemy" is what Jesus Christ said,
you're the polar opposite, you want them all dead
Mark yourself an antichrist
Always wished you were at the crucifixion,
you would've nailed in the spikes
Consider yourself a true Confederate to the cause,
proud of teaching your children how to hate when they're small
Kill them dead,
kill them all,
That's the drunken song you sing
in your "Members only" beer hall
It's the Anti-Christ anthem,
it's pure ancient antebellum
You love to sing your favorite rebel rousing song,
you love to hear it being played all day long
Kill them all,
kill them dead
It's the bloodlust song always playing in your head
It's the Anti-Christ anthem,
it's pure ancient antebellum
Bring back the bygone days of butchery and bedlam
Whenever you hear the Anti-Christ anthem,
you pledge your soul to be a disciple of Satan
Are socialists human beings?
Do they need food?
Are they capable of goodness?
Do they deserve to be tortured, starved, abandoned, beaten?
What makes a socialist cry?
It isn't sad movies -- or is it?
Why should I stop hating them?
I have the right to punish them, do I not?
Or do I?
When Mother Teresa found a Communist, starving, abandoned, beaten, she fed him, loved him, made him feel the hands of Christ, touching him through her hands.
When the SS found a Communist, they shot him, tortured him, starved him, gassed him
When the Communists found a Jew, they tortured him, starved him, took his property, made certain he was strung up as an example, that people do not have the right to own their own property.
When Gandhi found that Hindus were murdering Muslims and Muslims were murdering Hindus, he fasted publicly until they stopped.
Whose example do you prefer?
Mother Teresa's, or Stalin's
That of Gandhi, or the SS?
That of Christ?
I have the right to shoot every Democrat who angers me -- or DO I?
I have the right to impeach every Republican for being Republican, to loot his store, to force him to perform abortions, to punish him...
Somewhere in Africa, a father drove nails through the knees of his teenage son
For converting to Christianity.
I am hatred.
I am anger.
I am violence.
Whose example do you prefer?
Christ's?
Or mine?
This is where we save ourselves,
Or destroy ourselves.
'Let Brotherhood, Peace and Progress become landmarks of attainment', it has been written.
Well?
Which do we prefer?
It's a question to ask yourself every day.
When I win, I make the whole world bleed,
And I LAUGH!
Not such a nice fellow am I.
I
The Greek origins of our word for "matter," is the same for "measure" and MEASURING, as well as a few other terms that carry surprises.
First, however, there is no separate word for matter in Sanskrit, or broadly Hindu VEDANTA Philosophy. Indians and Hindus use a joint term, NAMA-RUPA or simply NAMARUPA: "name and form." As a young Hindu child in South Africa - of all places - I knew this. It was the term that stood for all REALITY - a combination of names and forms.
II
The surprises are for MATTER, its Greek origins also connect with MAYA or "illusory reality." Maya also includes the individual "ego-identity," as Indian philosophy generally sees "ego" as a temporary identity that is fluid and transient. Like an iceberg floating in an ocean, will not be a separate form of water for long.
Matter is also connected with the words METER or "metre" and MATER for mother.
Guarded by towering hills on the East
And flanked by the Arabian Sea on the West
With its easterly shore of stretching sandy swell
That lulls the restless waves to sleep,
There is a land, my land of green vegetation
Nestled among palm trees and paddy fields.
Oh! I am in love with this narrow strip of land
Of rugged hills and meandering rivers
Of placid backwaters and blue skies
Of gibbering monkeys and singing cuckoos
What rich diversity you graciously provide
A land dotted with temples, churches and mosques
Where Hindus, Christians and Muslims cohabit
Where diversity flows through her arteries
And unity beats through her throbbing heart
Here souls dance to the timeless rhythm of music
Of diverse genres, vocal and instrumental
Classical and folk, sung either as solo or in groups
With the accompaniment of (2) 'veena',(3) 'tanpura' and violin
Their varying pitches beautifully synchronized!
In the serene dawns and dusky evenings
The atmosphere gets abuzz with the soft strains
Of (1) ‘Sopana Sangeetham’, the ethnic music of Kerala,
It comes floating from inside the Hindu shrines
Flooding soul’s enchanted shores,
And opening the floodgates of piety
In healing murmurs and throbbing notes,
As the symphony builds up its circuitous round
It descends down as a stream of blessing
Drenching devotees in its moistening sweetness
Like the drizzle of dew drops from heaven
Making hearts ride in the palanquin of joy!
May.21.2023
If your Birthplace- Country was a Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Anoucheka Gangabissoon
This poem is about Kerala, a small state in India, which is my birthplace and its geography and culture.
1.Sopana Sangeetham is a form of Indian Classical music, developed in the temples of Kerala. It is sung, sitting by the holy steps leading to the sanctum sanctorum of a shrine.
2.Veena- a stringed musical instrument, one of the oldest of Indian musical tradition, played sitting cross legged, capable of producing all oscillations of Carnatic music
3. Tanpura- a drone instrument of Indian origin used mainly in a concert of classical music, creating a melodic background, but not a melody.
If I were a word,
I'd be on the point of Sharon's pen...
If I were a poem,
The young one would have penned me...
If I needed to show my heart,
I guess I would be me,
If I were to lay down wisdom,
I'd be John, Vince, Ruby, Christy, Maya
But, I wouldn't be me....
If I awoke in the middle of the night,
Wrapped in fear and uncertainty,....
I would be Tom Bell again,....
In desperate need of a friend...
If I have offended, I will volunteer
To cut off the offensive part...
If someone will remember me...
Somewhere down the road...
If I can create a smile,
or a wondrous thought,
I will have exceeded my aspirations
As a person, though never quite a farah chammah,
I will see the sun rise, I will see the sun sink...
I will pray for my fellow man,
Regardless of what others may think....
One life to live?
Nonsense, the Hindus got it right,
The cycle is repeated,
Until we see the light...
Yet the light is here at Soup,
It shines so bright that it could blind,
But blind most of us are,
We keep a closed up mind...
Lives end, lives begin...
They are virtually the same...
God kisses each of us,
And grants us a special name...
But time is oblivious to all this,
It has it's own agenda,
And we are powerless to influence it,
There are higher powers we'll never understand...
But the power of our words lives on...
That power will never end.
From the beginning of this life,
Man somehow knows that he is at war.
From childhood games, to stories of the imagination.
We are aware of a conflict, a glorious conflict.
Long ago, a dragon was cast down from light.
And his fall upset the fabric of the universe.
What once lived eternal now stood imprisoned in cycles of death and decay and
all of creation mourned.
But from the darkness, God’s champion.
The Holy One of light, Made man in his image.
Chosen from the beginning of time, to fight for our Creator and return peace to
the cosmos.
We were grafted as warriors and it was our destiny to ride victorious.
In the bosom of God, we were created by the expert hands of the Maestro and
were given all things.
But the snake deceived us, and we fell.
Yet the Snake himself was fooled, for in our weakness God would find strength.
In the fall of man, so too would he find his destiny.
To ride with God victorious and set creation back in light.
We God’s glorious symphony, Ordained in Eternity to reign with him forever.
For many years we wandered in darkness, longing to regain our birthright.
The snake had made us his slaves, and perverted our hearts to death.
We, God’s warriors of light, were turned to darkness.
And for millennia we warred against each other for scraps of pleasure,
Like dogs we served the Dragon, all the time blind to our Destiny.
But our Champion, the Lion of Judah, Saw us and had pity.
He came to suffer at his own hand, and take on his own wrath so that we once
again might rise.
And now the truth is ours, for he has already claimed the victory.
We, God’s anointed, chosen in light yet deceived into warring against one
another.
The Lamb has saved us, and it is time for us to take our rightful place in
Celebration of his crowning.
Jews, Muslims, Siks, Suphis, Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, Atheists, and
Agnostics too.
It is our time for the Lamb prepared a place for us in his army of victory ever
lasting.
The time is now.
The time is ours.
So grab your sword and ride to victory!
Nothing made more peace and love,
Nothing made more tangible brotherhood,
Nothing made charity spread,
It is nothing other than religions.
Nothing spread more hatred in the world,
Nothing bred more bitter enmity,
Nothing flood the world with blood,
It is nothing other than religions.
When we think our religion is good,
And neighbor’s also good as mine,
Then we see peace and love,
Charity and brotherhood in this world.
When we think our religion is good,
But my neighbor’s not as mine,
Then the hatred and enmity rises,
Flooding the world with neighbor’s blood.
Let us accept all our religions,
And worship God with every one of them,
In whatever form he worship him,
Tolerance is not what we need.
Let us take Mohammedans’ brotherhood,
Let the Christians teach us charity,
Let us become spiritual as Hindus,
Acceptance is what we need.
Won third place in Writing Prompt - Take the Dagger Out Poetry Contest sponsored by Dear Heart
Multicultural Britain
(An Unapologetic Statement)
Two “Festivals of Light” there are
Each and every year
The Jewish have their Hanukah
And Hindus their Diwali cheer
The end of Ramadan brings Eid il Fitr
The Muslim fasting's passed
The Welsh National Eisteddford
Culture, craft, songs not surpassed
There is the pagan Betain
That Celtic Festival of Fire
And the famous summer Solstice
Stonehenge, druids and sun inspire
Halloween crosses boundaries
Between Christian and Heathen
Leading on into November
Honouring death and ghosts of men
But amid all this Britain is
A bastion of Christianity
While accepting all religions
They too should be made to see
That in our tolerance still we stand
With our ceremonies and feasts in tact
Our Lent, Easter and Christmas
This is a simple statement of fact
Please don’t tread upon these rights
Which we’ve defended for years
Don’t rename our traditions
And cause confusion or trite fear
The Godless in society
Can rant and claim new ground
But faith is our foundation
And that foundation is very sound
So it IS a Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year too
The Scots can call is Hogmanay
Because they have and always do
It is a happy holiday
To all despite their creed
To each give them utmost respect
In thought and word and deed
But let us all remember
Respect is a two way street
Do not dictate our policies
Among people that you meet
This country was here before you came
And settled on these shores
This is the British way of life
That you’ve chosen, now, as yours
So let the religions flourish
And none to those who’ve none
And live in total harmony
Until our time is done
Please hear us I pray....
Tolerance, this word is not used in the bible
The closest I can find is to be non judgemental
To accept those that are of a different faith
A different skin colour, those that love their own kind
So why so much fighting......
Tolerance, to tolerate the bigots
That advise and command you,
You that live in the real world, they left behind
This is the gift I would bestow.
Please hear us I pray....
Tolerance is advocated in the Koran
So why isn't this being upheld
I ask the leaders of the mosque
Where is your tolerance to other faiths
I suggest you re-read your holy book
I beg you go hear us in prayer....
Hindus never claim that they are the 'chosen people'.
They are brought up to accept others faiths
To tolerate the beliefs not defile them
To live in peace in their own way.
So why so many wars....
Lord hear my prayer. To bestow on everybody the gift of tolerance.
Penned by Seren Roberts on 29 August 2014
Incineration of Indian Love God Madan (Cupid) 7
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.
Prelude to this epic.
According to Indian mythology Madan the Love God or Cupid was asked to divert the attention of Lord Shiva*, the supreme God of Hindus, who was lost in deep meditation, so that Lord Shiva may be requested to help the Gods from the attacks of the demon supreme immortal Tarakasur. However, when Madan disturbed Him in meditation Shiva became too furious and opened His third eye. Madan the Cupid God got burnt by the fire of the anger of his third eye. This epic reveals many interesting incidents about this story later in this series…..
Hindi name ‘Madan Dahan’ 07
Buds were all smiling to bloom and
To welcome the Lord of the day,
By opening their pretty mouths
To absorb the dew bubbles kissing their faces.
The living and even the lifeless too,
Were all fascinated by the charms of Nature,
Madan* entered in such an intoxicating arena,
And became mad with the flowing passion.
But finding Shiva* in deep meditation,
He thought about his domination,
And its influence on the entire living being,
Which exists on this pretty Earth.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 27th April 2012
To continue……….
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws.
Clarifications:
Madan*- Hindi name of the Love God Cupid
Shiva*- The Lord of destruction and creation as per Indian mythology.
many young peoples don t know
that freedom is the only way to go
here ordinary tired people lies
who aren t educated enough to realize
that the country we have now wasn t always one
that no matter how it is, Pakistan is still awesome
it s flag is full of green and white
the moon and the stars representing the light
may our countries flag always furl high and remain bright
as for this country, many people lost their lives,
and we have it after a great fight
it was once surrounded and ruled by Hindus
a time when even the teaching of Allah was bang
and many muslims were forced to convert and worship Vishnus
a time when muslims weren t safe in their own homeland
in congress rule, the call to prayer was bang
anyone caught eating the cow was hang
muslims condition was misearable
nobody was doing anything although all of this was visible
then from God came an angel
yeah it was Jinnah who save muslims from all of this danger
the emergence of Pakistan was no ordinary task
it was a miracle
it all started with a dream
that Iqbal saw in which
there was a promise of separate homeland
a land where children play without care
a place where human worship without fear
a land where muslims are regarded as safe
at that time, paradise was such a place
for such a homeland, the name Pakistan was choosen
which is the main purpose of our lives
the name itself means, La Illah Ill Allah
there is no God but Allah
so it s our duty, to love our land
whenever the country need us,
we should also lend a hand
don t be afraid to give up our lives
as for this country many sacrifices were made
they will never be dismayed
may it s flag always remain high
may it always remain safe from every single spy
the whole world should say
that Pakistan is a country full of talented guys
may our country always remain azaad( independent)
Pakistan Zindabad, Pakistan Zaindabad
Incineration of Love God Madan (Cupid) 23
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994. The work was written in Hindi somewhere around 1965-70.
Editing and English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.
Hindi Title ‘Madan Dahan’ 23
Rati* saw her husband burning,
In the fire of God,
In great panic, she ran to Him,
Terrified and trembling.
She prayed the three eyed,
She is becoming orphan,
The expanding fire would destroy all,
Including her beloved husband.
Prostrate at Shankar’s* feet’s,
With deflated pride and ego,
She murmured in weak voice,
To arouse His kindness.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 14th May 2012
To continue…
Shankar*- The other name of Lord Shiva the
supreme God of Hindus.
Rati*- Wife of Madan (Cupid) for more details
Of Rati please see Episode 10
The rain-god bursts in Himalaya regions
With snow-covered mountains and deep forests
There’s Kedar temple for Hindu pilgrims
Coming to worship the god in thousands
Sanctum Sanctorum inside the temple
Of Kedar revered by millions of Hindus
A bleak picture of purses, bags and shoes
All personal things lay strewn in ample.
Outside the temple vandals had free hand
Houses, cars and what not flooding in
Thousands of people dead or stranded
Millions waiting to hear about their end
There’s no right or wrong way to cope with pain
Time, can renew and permit you to mend.
==============================
Contest : Grief by Shadow Hamilton
9th place win
The Kedarnath temple, one of the four pilgrimage centre for Hindus world over, is in the Himalayas at the height of 13,500 feet. There was a cloud bursts and then heavy rainfall which was about 375 percent more than the benchmark rainfall during a normal monsoon. It is feared that 20,000 people have died. This happened around 14th to 17th June, 2013. There is a news now that the temple will reopen. On 1st of October i.e. after nearly 95 days. Surprisingly, there is no danger to the idols of the Deity Shiv or Nandi , the bull.
Please visit my blog, if you want to see the video clips on the tragedy
Incineration of Love God Madan (Cupid) 8
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994. The work was written in Hindi somewhere around 1965-70.
Editing and English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.
Hindi name ‘Madan Dahan’
Being unable to put influence,
On the stupid dry meditation of Shiva*,
Cupid thought that even the goddess of delusion,
Too would be defeated without any influence.
I shall be called the destroyer,
Of my mother’s honor and power,
And shall always remain defeated,
By this inhuman meditation.
Power would leave me alone then,
Destroying my domination over all,
My existence would disappear forever,
From my own dominated Earth.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 28th April 2012
To continue…..
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws.
Clarifications:
Shiva*- The supreme god of destruction and creation as per Indian mythology.
Madan*- Cupid Love God of Hindus as per Indian mythology.