Best Rupee Poems
She wore a tiffany hat with a bow and six big plumes of red and white,
it had an ultra wide asymmetrical brim that rolled up to one side.
When it came to dames like this I believe God ran out of humble stock !
She wore pompadour shoes, like she had nothing to lose
and rouge so red it made the cardinals have fainting spells !
Her hair was soaked in henna, elderberry & radish extract,
and I believe her dress was stitched in the boudoir of coco-channel!
She was a nouveau riche reveling in her new found fame
and everything in her life was right as rain until that fatal day,
when her hat expanded 10 x its size, growing past her shoulders
like a great big beast, of leavened yeast!
Her hat pins strained from the strain of those great big plumes,
moaning and groaning from her lithe walk and all that perfume !
Then First World War arrived and suddenly it was unpatriotic
to be concerned with one's appearance !
She was no Rockefeller and didn't own a rupee nor a heller,
so she became a steadfast loyal dame, like dear old Helen Keller .
What happened to that big old hat, with the plumes of red and white ?
She stewed it, brewed it, boiled it down then poured it in a flask,
and yes she drank it slowly,... just in case you thought to ask !
March 30/ 2025
GOD has made us with the same soil.
Some born as poor some enrich with gold foil.
No big house No luxury was on my cards of life.
You the rich decorate your doorsteps with
Black money lights.
You wake up and touch the smooth carpet threads.
Am the poor struggles for every day butter and breads.
I earn money for the pieces of food as my soul says.
You sold your self and put your honesty on stake everyday.
You the rich burns my house and count the bunch of
Lakhs.
I just wait for the clock of bad times to swap.
You lived the life of king and will not die with a single
Rupee.
I left empty handed whole life but my priceless honesty wraps me.
STRONG ME
It’s now crystal clear… I need not be told
I am falling for a Sri Lankan sweet pea. I can’t hold
My feelings… she’s a darling dame, a beauty to behold
She’s got a guy, but to me she’s more than gains and gold
How I wish I could live forever in her singing sky,
Her rhymes and rhapsodies ring… giving me wings to fly
I have promised my self that I will not love for now… it turned a lie
My heart is hot for a buddy I have not seen… I need an eagle’s eye
I have never seen, held or used a Sri Lankan rupee
But I am dying for this colorful… cute Asian sweet pea
I’m caged in thy colorful cell oh Crystal… you’ve got the key
Give me thy love, life and all; please do this to set me free
I look at the green crocodile balls placed in handcrafted bamboo basket
They look ripe and tempting.
The snake skinned vendor looks at me with hopeful eyes
His turtle legs skin with every vein visible is a testimony of many days of hunger
He wears a wrinkled robe of silk over them
His brahminy blindsnake skin glistens in sun
An amazing will power to survive despite odds keeps him going.
I know he will gladly give me a huge discount for his meager earnings determines his dinner
Filled with pity, I buy a kilo and hand over a thousand rupee note to him
He looks at me puzzled
"I don't have change for such a big amount"
"Keep the change", I say
He flatly refuses
"I will have only what I earn
I am not a beggar
I will get change from nearby shop"
"You give me whole basket", I respond
He displays his moony teeth
His face gleams in joy
I am reminded of full moon night
He quickly packs my fruits
offers free home delivery
I lack strength despite good food
He is strong despite hunger
I feel sad and depressed at times
He inspires life is meant for living happily with smile in face
As I walk back home
I resolve to be happy
I have no right to be sad!
06.08.2021
For Emile Pinet imagism contest
Whenever and whatever
Enter into our mind
Apply always filter there
To stop garbage any kind
Control quality hug quality
Of thoughts enter there
Keep busy mind always
In valued stuff where ever
Powerful thoughts if in
And mindset always there
Get energy and thoughts positive
Which keep always care
Always keep eye on that
Like Arjun on bird's eye
No issue or situation in
Feed healthy pie pie
* Pie (Hindi) = 1.A pie (abbreviated as Ps) was a unit of currency in India until 1947. It was the smallest currency unit, equal to 1/3 of a paisa or 1/192 of a rupee.
Book Source : Keep Smiling
Publisher: PJH Publications
Composed by :(c) Hariom Sharma, CFA
Source Book : Keep Smiling
E-MAIL : cfahariom@gmail.com
For more poems please search "hariomsharmapoetry" on facebook
where lakh of poetry lover meet daily and scroll the page. Hare Ram.
Meera counts the money.... just one hundred and fifty rupees. Still to pay to the grocer and the electric bill. The guests will come and to greet on the Diwali and Happy New year, some sweets for them. For children , there should be chocolates and light drinks. The homeless people will come in the morning and will have to give a rupee to each. It just leaves 15 rupees. Tomorrow will be Diwali and the day after The New year….For years I have not given any gifts…Oh, Madan.
Meera looks at one of her gold ring on her right hand
As the ring’s grove is empty without any stone.
She lost the diamond of the ring long back unmindfully.
She left for a jeweler’s shop to sell her only treasure.
And to buy a Dipawali Gift for her husband Madan
Who liked and used to play with it in their secret hours.
She buys a gold single bangle for her Madan’s right hand
Even after finding the perfect gift, she begins worrying
That he will be displeased by her bare wrists’ appearance.
Madan comes home, looks at her and greatly shocked.
Reacts a little knowing that his reaction will make sense
When Meera opens the gift of diamond he bought for her.
As she opens the box, Madan reveals, he bought it
Selling his gold bangle, a positive sign of his masculinity.
The story stops here zooming out of the epic proportions,
The gifts that seem useless are the quests successful
We feel, they are the wisest givers and are the magi.
Meera and Madan - the Indian Names
**Bangles are traditional ornaments worn mostly by South Asian women in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. Some men also wear a single bangle on the arm or wrist called kada or kara. In Sikhism, the father of a Sikh bride will give the groom a gold ring.
+++
January 1, 2015
Form: Free Verse
First Place win
With a one rupee coin having tiny hole
to talk endlessly throughout the day
to reach to you ,fulfill my goal
shower love talks you can say.
To talk endlessly throughout the day
I tied a string through that hole
shower love talks you can say
bringing closer our thirsty souls.
I tied a string through that hole
to make phone calls without a pay
bringing closer our thirsty souls
from public booths on my way.
To make phone calls without a pay
inserted the coin holding the string
from public booths on my way
dialling your number tring,tring,tring!
inserted the coin holding the string
to pull it out after the call
dialling your number tring,tring tring
soon this trick was picked by all.
To pull it out after the call
so that I could call you again
soon this trick was picked by all
to make a phone call now and then.
So that I could call you again
to reach to you,fulfill my goal
to make a phone call now and then
with a one rupee coin having tiny hole.
===============000=================
*The one rupee Indian coin doesn't have any hole;
people used to make one to make phone calls from
public booths without paying by the above method.
A name reflective of its traditional kingship
is its identity, showcasing a cultural strength and heritage.
A huge trader with an Asian giant
is this land upholding the Kwanza like the Indian respect to its Rupee.
Indifference is shown to the culture of tipping;
substances like cigarettes can stand as replacement to cash.
The semba is a mother influence to many others like the samba of Brazil
and it has a zero tolerance approach
towards its public structures and security zones.
It is an epitome of the continent’s blessing in wealth and resources
this land shakes hands with the black diamonds from beneath
but once bowed its head to the rule of the Portuguese.
Now standing as free as a large open space,
yet still humiliated by the shackles of the African curse.
Money, life material
temporal source,
Made for life's
every course, to
earn, win or
Gifted in ways
selected to maintain
the well being
Of mind and body
health, riches and
wealth.
Money in currencies
from different
Regions of the
World,
Pound Sterling,
Dollars, Dinar,
Lira, Escudo, Rupee,
Pound, Kwanza, Euro
Birr or Lira to name
a few,
more abounds in
place unknown to me
and you.
Money rid our lives
of homelessness,
hunger, and sadness,
Slows the
unhappiness lessen
distress,
Ends the poverty in
the desolate, mend
the broken spirit,
And bring joy to a
child's life who is
sadden with
misfortune.
Money man's
creation, limited
and filled with
subjection,
Was created for
pleasure, measure,
and power, but
caused,
War, theft, pain
and sorrow to God's
unlimited world,
Of riches, love,
freedom and beauty.
Money needed by
all...
"Playing the other day, I behold this man
Sky was cloudy and grey, he could use a fan
Held a locket. I think he wanted to sell
To fill his wallet and pocket to excel
Listened to a small voice, this looks like a crime
I made a choice, found a coin and flip a dime
Putting faith and trust it landed on its head
These peeps will do good, nothing happened." I said
“Gee, what transpired next?” said Rupee
“See, was during a spelling bee
Teacher, Miss Miller called on me
Asked me speller the word reptile
Being a little juvenile
Said with the happiest smile
I gave the words in a fast spree
Saying, ‘assume’
She frowned, and my A is a D
And that is my hyperbole”
Updated 5/14/2019
Today is the seventy third Republic Day,
Of India - young nation - a unique bouquet;
Nice spicy people living in twenty eight states,
And eight union territories; friendly relate…!
Talking more than four hundred twisting tuneful tongues,
With their hereditary folk-dialect strings;
Faiths of ten religions fraternally flourish,
Each in their way love, hope and tolerance nourish...!
Staging, daily, moreover, twenty eight dance forms,
And ten or above folk county art formic norms...
Algebra, number zero, yoga, shampoo, chess,
Origin from this ancient land's lovely abyss...!
We've Tricolor; true Hindu Saka calendar,
Rupee, tiger, peacock, lotus, Ganges grandeur;
Our hospitality has its global flavor,
Shown in humble, courtesy-filled frank behavior...!
Doctor Ambedkar, Constitution-designer,
Nehru, Bose, Dadaaji, lal, bal, pal, and other;
All fighting to gain the nation deserved freedom,
And then its federalism solving each problem...!
Of all, gift of this nation for this lovely globe,
Is, the man, Mahatma Gandhi, in torn old robe...
Who, like Jesus, taught Indians, show other cheek,
If one beats you on one; to reach forgiveness-peak...!
26 January 2022
Calcutta.
Hot and unberable in the searing summer heat
and unberarable for more reasons than the heat.
In a popular tourist cafe an American widow
obsesses on her dead husband: she has a bundle
of photos, letters and other mementos to show as
she tells stories, ad-nauseum, about his now stiff
prowess as a prolific and technically perfect lover.
She moves from table to table with her bundle
of banality disturbing patrons at random with her
loneliness. This happens in the Calcutta stink of Indian
cardamon, paprika, cinnamon, sour sewer and rotted
garbage. All this aromatic decay combines with the
overpowering scent of jasmine. Mother Theresa's
favorite intoxicants.
But other smells and stenches permeate and nasuate your
senses. Certain streets are dedicated to the putrid permanence
of sensory corruption. But only the uninitiated visitor seems
to suffer insult to their olfactory awareness. The indigenous
poor are scattered on the streets and walks in somnambulist
slumber, like fatalistic, hashish soaked, discarded rags.
Children with sunken, obsidian eyes and belly-swell of abandoned
malnourishment reach out toward passing lost-eyed foreigners,
their palms-up; "Rupee please, sir, I am hungry, sir, coins please sir,
I am hungry, sir." The widow from the cafe slaps a child's reaching
hand with her bundle of deceased memories then trips over a sleeping,
legless beggar and splashes face first into the fetid stream of seminal
waste flowing from under his two exposed stumps. No one, including me,
offers to help the child-slapping widow onto her two intact feet.
Calcutta.
As I trolled past the community center
I found a gypsy girl was about to enter
I asked her name purpose and country
But I only knew she was very hungry
I gave her some money a rupee or two
She wore a colorful robe and I found a smell of brew
Her face gathered dust but it was very sweet
I had no knowledge how long she traveled the street
She only said "Babu, thank you very much for food"
I stood still and saw her departure
Although I was not rude but I felt me crude
Under the sky the world in rapture
Some say gypsies are well versed in theft
I only hold dear the impression she left
She traveled and traveled gathering dust of the world
While in our cozy rooms we were sitting curled
I think she was scavenging love from the trash
I can see the rush of vagrant souls rising from the ash
Babu= Sir (Bengali/Hindi)
the Hissings of mumbai
the bright colours of the city chimes
this motherland of mine
has many stories and tales that shines
the buzzing streets of surat
buried with past secrets
people commemorate despite of their different lives
all residing side by side
mango bazaar in valsad
designer clothes and bag shops
an orphan child close by
hiding his smile
i say "a hundred rupee for you young man"
he modestly decorates his face with a fragile smile
an eerie presence in taluka-tala
a place of my ancient ancestors
village-folk congregates as the daylight slowly become darkness
a spirited singing begger illuminates the night with precious richness
"A family trip to india inspired me to write a poem about the cultural,vibrant and cosmopolitan
some cities of india. A beautiful country with wonderful people"
What do I appear to you
A shiny doll with no aims
A life that has seen no pains _
You think you know me
Very few are the ones that understand me_
I ask thee for MY LIFE to live
Do away with the societal norms and the cliff_
One day will come when all this will be over
I wanna be among the ones who says - Man this was worth the rover_
I feel strangled by your over protective norm
Like I have already wasted the quarter of this life form_
One way you say you understand
Unfortunately what expressed was just your controlling hand_
The laughs that you make, the examples you pose
Are the taunts that PIERCE deep like a watering hose_
Every passing day seems a waste
What did I live all this while was just a haste_
Friends I have/had are the ones I can call Mine
You disapprove of even them framing malign_
I don’t think I can live “how YOU expect”
My LIMITS are overpowering this EXTENDING conflict_
Fear gropes me thinking about the next day
A feisty dark shadow consumes the benevolence away_
I don’t want to pretend I don’t want to sway
Before I have the next generation to my array_
LET ME BE -- PLEASE LET ME BE
I am not you neither I want to be
With my phantoms of self-discovery, of improvement and foul-play I seek to
survive
It gets too hard I try to be alive_
CHOKED is the feeling I get everytime with thee
Spread my wings and fly, I wanna be responsible for my own rupee.