Best Saris Poems
Dreams of India
Her music haunts me
in such a knowing way
it makes me weep
and causes my heart to ache.
I become homesick for her
scents, her sounds, her food,
her enchanting dance
which spawns dreams
of her romance.
I know in my heart
I have lived there,
I know, I have loved there.
Her poetry transcends
my spirit to encompass
a wholeness that is
so familiar to me.
I dream of the Ganges ,
and her gentle cleansing flow,
of reflections on its surface
when the moon is hanging low.
Of crickets singing nightly
to serenade me to sleep.
I dream of colors of the saris,
the beauty that they keep...
Of garlands placed with care,
a gajra in a maiden's hair
and the hues of floral leis.
I hold a reverence for Hindu
Devata and Devi.
I aspire to learn the sacredness
of varmala in the seeds of
past lifetimes I have shared.
A passion grows for those
whose love glows through their
auras to welcome strangers.
I'd love to share a cup of chai
to chat with friends in open air.
I long to return home, though
I have never been there.
1-2-19
*a gajra: flowers which females use as a decoration
for their hair.
*Varmala: is a tradition from ancient times where a beautiful garland of flowers symbolizes a proposal of marriage. In the tradition of Swayamvar. A female would choose her life partner from a group of suitors by placing a flower garland around the neck of her chosen man. Once the girl had made her choice, a marriage ceremony would be held gright away.
~Poem of the Day January 4, 2019~
~1st Place~
A BRIAN STRAND 1092
Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 20
~9th Place Premiere Contest~
Your Best Free Verse That You Wrote Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
'I Got a Darn NA Again' Contest
Sponsor Luloo
Free Verse Style Only Poetry Contest~N/A~
The Land Where the Lemon-Trees Flower
I know the land where the lemon-trees flower,
where citrus fragrance lingers after a summer shower.
In sun-sweetened India, lemon-trees radiantly bloom,
flourishing unfazed by tropical monsoon’s gloom.
Glistening with dew drops, greeting each sunrise,
lemon-trees thrive beneath heaven's azure skies.
Exquisite five-petaled flowers of white,
blossom singly or in clustering delight.
Enticing like swirling girls in silky saris,
they’re as enchanting as woodland fairies.
Glistening with dew drops, greeting each sunrise,
lemon-trees thrive beneath heaven's azure skies.
I know the land where the lemon-trees flower,
where valleys are verdant and the Himalayas tower.
Misty mornings yield to golden sunshine,
and the cool ice-pink of twilight glows divine.
Glistening with dew drops, greeting each sunrise,
lemon-trees thrive beneath heaven's azure skies.
Sri Lakshmi blessed it with her sacred hand,
waving her lovely lotus over this fertile land;
where princely proud peacocks strut arrogantly,
and lush lemon-trees bear fruit abundantly.
Glistening with dew drops, greeting each sunrise,
lemon-trees thrive beneath heaven's azure skies.
07-12-2018
Awarded Poem of the Day 07-14-2018
Note: Sri Lakshmi – Hindu goddess of wealth, abundance, prosperity, love,
and beauty
Chandelier earrings dangling
Golden bangles jingling
Thick long raven hair
Twisted and pinned in swirls
With ornate gold embellishment
Luxuriously wrapped
In silk and brocade
Lavish lengths
Of rich flamboyant colors
Parading effortlessly
Their exotic saris
Swaying in graceful rhythm
Gliding by on air
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~NAMASTE~ 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on June 17, 2019 for contest YOUR CHOICE (10) IMAGIST STYLE sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 3RD
A is for Aprons, like Moms used to wear.
B is for Barrettes that adorn young girls’ hair.
C is for Coats, many colors and styles.
D is for Diamonds, best friends that brings smiles.
E is for Elbow pads skateboarders use.
F is for Flippers folks might wear on a cruise.
G is for Gowns, to wear out . . . or to bed!
H is for Helmets - Hard Hats for one’s Head.
I is for Indian saris so bright.
J is for Jewelry that dazzles at night.
K is for Kilts used by Scotts, do you know?
L is for Lingerie, a woman’ peep show!
M is for Masks to look scary or funny.
N is for Necklaces from your sweet honey.
O is for Overalls, comfy for big men.
P is for Pajamas, so easy to fit in.
Q is for a Quilted skirts and jackets too.
R is for Rags - what our worn clothes turn into!
S is for Shorts, for a day warm and glad.
T is for Ties that we all give to Dad.
U is for Underwear. I can see France!
V is for Vest. It enhances your pants.
W is for Wig, great when hair has been shorn.
X is for Xmas clothes too rarely worn.
Y is for Yamaka - only for Jews.
Z is for Zippered, the clothes over buttoned ones that I would choose!
Oh, the things we’ve been wearing since Adam and Eve
first started it off by just wearing their leaves!
For the ABC Contest of CYNDI MACMILLAN
Written by Andrea Dietrich, a big fan of poetry and PoetrySoup.
The aunites gossip back home
About how you've grown
Out of your white cotton frocks
And into red silk saris
They talk about how you're ripe for marriage
About how quickly boys flock to you--
Your family's rich and you are beautiful.
Like a princess but with none of the excess.
Their perfect Indian girl is rather simple.
But, the real you they can never comprehend.
Those brown khol-rimmed eyes with
That understated nose ring confuses them.
They'd rather ignore your luscious red mouth.
Those soft lips were like velvet as they brushed across my lashes as you pretended to blow sand out of my eyes one drunken night on a Konkan beach.
Both too scared to be the first to say anything
We just sat there drunk and giggling
When the aunties speak of you
I can't help but imagine
Things that leave
Little to the imagination.
I am a woman
And you are a woman
We're on the same page.
The boys will wait.
We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature-trees, flowers, grass-grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence…We need silence to be able to touch souls—Mother Teresa [Anjezë Gonxhe Bojaxhiu]
“But Jesus Himself would often slip away to the wilderness and pray.” (Luke 5:16)
In Silence
Her love--she speaks of silence,
without flaws or violence.
Calcutta’s poor whom she served,
this increasingly disturbed.
Simple, free from obsessions
These her only possessions,
a bucket and two saris,
is all she’ll own and carry.
While visiting Darjeeling,
by train saw poor suffering.
Saint Teresa heard the call,
solemn vows; provide for all.
Now known as “Mother” served us
of India for Jesus.
Inner conscience she had sought,
spoke Bengali where she taught.
This a tactical gambit,
chose a white sari habit
with a double blue border,
this she wore for the order.
Touching souls of lives her quest,
without silence there’s unrest.
As stars shine in alliance,
may the wind come in silence.
MY MOTHER’S WHITE SAREE
The cupboard contained white garments,
Pure white sarees with brightness
No colours to dim its brightness
Wondered and worried why always in white sarees
Humble mom, simple mom, educated mom,
Became tragic heroine in her life span
Gave birth to four kids; grew widow at an early age
Felt frustrated, seeing in white saris
All the dreams swept away, as it was fate
Could not fight against destiny
Darkness became a nightmare
Tears were absorbed by pillows
It dried my mom’s energy
Physically, mentally and spiritually
Aspirations changed the fate
Getting rid of black holes
A way to meaningful life
Survived all these and nurtured, looked after,
Cared, loved& led the young kids
I am proud of my mom’s white saris
The purity mom charity mom always in white sarees
Aged 85 still in white sarees
Symbol of peace &sweet memories for my dad
God’s grace mom’s presence is a blessing like a heaven
I am proud of my mom’s white saris, the great mom world ever seen.
Care &love parents, and uproot the old age home.
BEENA SUDHEER
Dancing Eunuchs Of India
Eunuchs they were, who sang at doorsteps for alms
At birth and death alike; blessed the bride and groom too.
They danced their dark bodies heavily gyrating,with
busted breasts, hairy chest and hefty forms tightly clad
in saris candy colored ,sequined and six feet long.
Painted smiles, jingling bangles, tinkling anklets
sang bawdy ballads of glorified virgins and stillborn children,
in a third gender voice-a hostile blend of two opposite sexes.
01/11/2013
Mehnaz Veetil
Entry for 8 lines contest on a native culture, sponsored by Debbie Guzzi
Note: Most of the eunuchs in India live by begging. They normally come out in groups of about five to ten and spread out in streets approaching small shops and restaurants for alms. Normally people give them alms out of fear of being cursed. It is widely believed in India that the curse of a "hijra" is very effective; same with their blessings. They offer to dance at small family functions like naming ceremonies of newborn children, weddings and other village functions.
Madras
Hotel lobbies, hotel bars
Hotel rooms, air conditioned cars
City sights and sounds and smells
A smile, a frown, a shout impels
The thoughts within to exude
And express themselves without interlude
Here no blossoms, no sweet fresh air
Save the scented jasmine in the women's hair
And the two don't mix, as we all know
Like the fires of hell and virgin snow
Flowing bright and silken dress
Saris adorn the putrid mess
Hems lifted gently to protect them
From certain ruin in the amalgam
Of open sewers - each gutter one
Of refuse tips - the pavements on
Rotten, decaying, organic matter
Dried up dung and vomit spatter
From the mouths of the unlucky
Poor and destitute - never plucky
"They are content with their lot"
(Steeped in drink, their guts they rot)
Laying near the dirty door
Their filthy rags bright no more
In the street or on a stair
Ignored by all without a care
And yet...and yet, life goes on
Each to their own - their God isn't one
Some are born to thrive and prosper
Others to poverty and despair
And here we are, visitors just
Though we discreetly watch - as we must!
And absorb each heart rending sight
Forsaking those in their plight
But if we give - sometimes we do
There are no thanks, nor feelings due
Because are we helping them buy food
Or alcohol which kills? Then we brood
And the rich they come in chauffeured car
Or the latest model bought by Pa
In designer clothes, their scarves unfurled
The stench, the poor? Another world!
The booming sound of Dhak resonated through the air,
The children squealed in utter merriment at the fair---
Flaunting their newly bought ensemble of myriad hue,
Some were draped in saris, mod jeans donned a few.
The little girl roaming the streets, in a soiled frock half-torn,
Regretted sorely why in affluence she too was not born,
She too had a great craving to have fun and enjoy like they,
But heart-broken she was as she could not afford to pay.
For days she had been starving but she saw all of them eat,
She sorrowfully mused such blatant injustice wasn’t meet,
Some licked dripping ice cream, some gulped down iced coke,
But for her getting a morsel to eat seemed a pathetic joke!
Though Ma Durga with ten hands out-stretched was there,
Was cold and hard-hearted and for her seemed not to care,
A silent tear came rolling down her thin pinched cheeks,
She didn’t have a place to sleep for the past few weeks.
Suddenly a burly policeman roughly held her hand and said,
“At last we have found her, we had thought she was dead”,
“Now what have I done?” asked the girl panicking in dread,
Then freeing herself from his clutches, like a rabbit she fled.
"Your millionaire father has been searching everywhere,
After all our futile efforts, at last we have found you here,"
The girl in profound reverence, said softly a fervent prayer,
"Ma though you seem heartless, now I know you do care!"
Sprawling green gardens super
Brilliant, breezy cool weather
Bustling busy night life
Clubbing culture that does strike
Thriving tech talent pool
With culture uniquely cool
Fastest growing tech hub
City of many clubs and pub
Millennial-friendly city rocks
A magnificent megacity just laughs
City of Lakes and names many
The Godly city with fame sunny
Bars to forget worries of world
Hub for headquarters is its word
Silicon Valley of subcontinent
At high altitude stands straight
Capital city of Kannad region
With clear and crisp vision
Rock capital of the country
Vegan-friendly o so dainty!
‘Bangalore Literature Festival'
Litterateur’s grand carnival
Many a dog o just bark
To compete with BARC!!!!
(Bangalore Amateur Radio Club
Besides being a capital pub)
Birth place of Rava Idli
So sweets are from Udipi
Startups, Quicker and Rapido
Birthplace of Bangalore Torpedo
First city to be electrified
Bangalore is diversified
Land of Nobel nominees
Theatres with matinees
A cool metro with altitude high
With which cities never vie
Mouthwatering brunches
And vegetarian crunches
Delicious craft beer
Cricket and leaders’ cheer
Placid and glassy lake
Even at night it’s awake
Super silicon-valley
Like a Comet of Halle
A pensioner’s paradise
Home to super silk saris
With full of novelty
A demographically diverse city
Mix of unusual history
Bangalore is a great mystery
The Indian Science City
Now the most livable city..!
What a way to get first rank..!
Like a beauty Queen revamp
The City of Gardens does rock
In its glimmering night frock
Victorian architecture being so
‘IT’ just vies with London lo..!
A Pensioner’s Paradise once
Now the Hub of Headquarters
With many a placid and glassy lake
It’s a fast growing hub tech
Diverse is its demography
Great is history and novelty
The most livable city ours
With brands, beers and towers..!!
Embellished saris glide with hot winds
as the clatter of bright anklets varnish
female heels rippling on New Delhi's trails:
pungent waft of curry permeates
through a local mart —betel, cinnamon
and mint leaves flaunt their skin—
kohl for Oriental eyelids, ambrosial herbs
rousing elder men-- while a bowl of lentils
incite my buds.
Although the thick of dust settles mid-air,
Delhi’s evening of jasmines reflects
a holy incense sanctifying a mystical chant
quiet , ethereal as I adorn myself
with a comfortable sari and layered bangles ,
gazing at Taj Mahal, if only to imbibe
this calm energy unfamiliar yet known
inside my core… my breath follows
Hindi prayers of wonderment
on and on like a song of moonlight,
until I accept allow such deep belonging
through the city’s rhythm with the world
and somehow, intimately mine.
Exotic Contest for Debbie Guzzi
7/20/2017
Brown sugar sapotas
Blending with custard alfonso mangos
And bold sweet lime juice
Georgette saris
Pairing with uncut diamond necklaces
Mixed with peals and rubies
Gently sloping palm trees
Swaying in balmy sultry air
And hazy golden sunsets
Frenetic yellow autos
Competing with dusty zipping mopeds
Mixed with ambulating pedestrians
Aromas of cumin
Blending with the sewage
Other times with incense
Glows of brass oil lamps
Singing in hums of prayer
Added with turmeric's incantations
Brightly-patterned salwars
Accentuating gemstone bindis
Comfy fitted leggings
Savory masala dosas
Coupling coconut chutney
Meter-high filter coffee
Beautiful and bold she paints my imagination
Every flowing dance move a total inspiration
Ssmiles adorn every face even if covered in lace
Movements made elementary through elegant grace
Lights reflect all the colours of her sunny saris
Rainbows flow to music becoming a safari
Bengal tigers roar a mosaic of emotion,
carrying their sound far over the deep Indian Ocean
Strong imagery makes her show a potent hot curry
Partaking in this bowl can’t be done in a hurry
Your tears will flow but your heart will fill surly not fold
Her gold henna hand draws you out from the freezing cold
Hollow and cold Hollywood sneers at soft and pretty
Black blue and bleeding is what feeds that heartless city
Strolling Nungambakkam’s dusky evening street,
The serpentine vehicles queues hold them as each other they coyly greet.
Ina foreign tongue they converse, so mystically sweet,
Melodies tingle in my ears with rhythms upbeat.
Chennai ladies, Chennai Lasses………
Ear stud to ear stud,
Between it , their smiles nestled on their faces like an unfurled bud.
Ear ring to ear ring,
Their faces are lyrics that bards like me yearn to sing……
Dazzling bright saris of kanjeevaram silk draped around their waists with utmost care…
Velvet layered oiled dark braids interwoven with cymosely clustered jasmine laden hair.
A smile lying await to erupt from their lips,
As they gently walk, gracefully rocking their hips.
Perched on their nose, ring of gold they boldly show,
These jeweled motifs setting their face aglow.
A near a solitary maiden my eyes behold!
Her eyes so brown and skin reflects shades of weatish gold..
Lucky silver trinkets clasp gently ankles
Between the ground she trods and the edge of her bold sari pleats, all silver sparkles.
Her beauty so immensely rare,
She stepped afar into the alley without worldly care.
She by far is for me the fairest,
Her fragrance she leaves behind that floats to my nostrils is one of the rarest.
She does not know my name…
But does it matter all the same?
Beauties of Chennai….. beauties of Chennai
From my eyes reach now you slip away…