Long Delhi Poems
Long Delhi Poems. Below are the most popular long Delhi by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Delhi poems by poem length and keyword.
Empowered women young
So glamorous as their clothes swing.
A glimpse of them gives men a boost
Not to lose their zest.
The young women of Delhi.
Most modern to down to earth Desi!
Punjabi, Marathi, Madarasi, Gujarati, Bengali, North East!
And all mixed Desi!
Dwindling their silicon bosoms
Twinkling their cultured eyebrows.
The will to live a life
Not just exist in the male strife.
In the city of multitude
Being a capital of a million attitude.
Many in pants,
Many in chudidhars*.
Provoking the young of men.
The angels of the city mad!
Where are you moving with phones mobile?
Your movements make the hearts of many a man mobile.
Oh! Always calling or getting called.
The wonder machine (mobile) wonders
For being blessed to be between your ears and lips
While doing the service to the lips.
Oh! Beauties!
You deserve a crusader prize.
For surviving the crowded Blue lines
Cowardice teasers beelines
Bossing over bosses at office.
Dictating men at houses
Surviving the age-old vices
Attending to brothers, parents, in-laws and out laws
Still striving for reservation laws
Thirty three percent** would set free many more
Will it set the men free of their sore?
* Women’s wear
**Government proposes to grant 30% reservation to women in the Parliament & also
in jobs.
19 million people, waking up in the morning,
going about their lives, from one corner to
another, jumping on one route and reaching
another. Delhi, you beautiful beautiful city,
I hear you carry, within, a soul so old that
you age with time. Oh Delhi, you beautiful
mistake.
19 million people, 573 sq. mi long city,
so many lives, so many dreams. Delhi, you
infuriating mess. Ask anyone they'll have a
story to tell, of a time not known to you, a
time not understood by me but a thousand
people willing to stop and listen along with
their daily cup of tea.
Everyone in here experiences this city in a
way that quite differently do align, and they
are definitely unconnected to mine. Mine
starts with a gate, number 7 it seems,
a chamber block with III written on it and a
floor to see what is unseen. Oh Delhi,
you are so full of mysteries.
On the 7th floor fire exit, you can see the
glory of this city in one place. If you look at
the expanse, I swear you can fly. From the
magnificence that is the Raisina Hill, running
along the Parliament and the tricolored
beauty of India gate. Hold on, wait for a
moment. Absorb the lights, the Grandeur
and move one.
The chilly breeze, often takes you with it to
the never ending work in progress that is
Pragati Maidan which literally translates
to “progress grounds” and to the ruins of
the Old fort, which once was the residence
of the huge empire, resonates the losses
and the gains.
The 7th floor fire exit captures the beauty
that is Delhi, but it also takes you on a
journey to the gems lost in time. If you look
around, you'll see the Jawaharlal Nehru
Stadium, sitting on the high chair, looking
down at the city. If you go a little further,
you'll find the Lotus temple.
Right there, just there, stop and think. Look
beyond the temple and you'll find yourself.
You'll see where you've reached and the
place where you started from. Delhi, you are
the reason for my suffering and the reason
for my contentment.
There are 19 million people in this city and
the 7th floor, Chamber block III is my place
of solace.
I walked the streets of New Delhi.
I breathed the dust.
I watched the crowds,
the chaos,
the color,
the cry.
And I asked—
When will the Indus gods bless you to rise
not on paper,
but in truth?
India,
you speak loudly to the world.
You say you will be greater than China.
But greatness is not declared.
It is engineered.
Forged.
Paid for in discipline.
China rose on steel.
On factories.
On roads carved through mountains.
On a bureaucracy that fears failure
more than it fears the world.
Your rise came through services.
Through speech,
not structure.
Through hope,
not hardware.
How do you rise
when your industrial base is thin,
your reforms delayed,
your roads broken,
your bridges dreaming of concrete
that never comes?
How do you rise
when violence against women
walks openly in the daylight,
and justice travels slower
than the monsoon winds?
The West does not condemn you.
Not because you are innocent—
but because you are useful.
A tool in the hands of empires
that no longer wear crowns
but still command kingdoms.
They hate China
because China serves itself.
They love you
because you serve them.
Do not mistake applause
for respect.
Do not mistake partnership
for freedom.
Some corners of your nation
look older than forgotten kingdoms—
roads cracked open like old wounds,
villages untouched by time,
cities swallowing their own people.
But still you dream of being a superpower.
Dreams without discipline
become illusions.
Illusions without courage
become prisons.
India,
your rise will not come
from slogans,
from alliances,
from borrowed admiration.
It will come
when your leadership wakes.
When your pride becomes practical.
When your vision meets reality
instead of fleeing from it.
The Indus gods will rise with you
only when you rise with truth.
Not with fantasy.
Not with borrowed love.
Not with Western applause.
Rise first in honesty.
Rise first in justice.
Rise first in the courage
to confront your own shadow.
Then—
and only then—
the world will bow
to the India
that finally stood up.
.
A sinking feeling
In the City of Djinns
...Pollution is down by 20 % this year
One reason given is economic slowdown
Happy souls- worlds second most populous
A free liberal atmosphere diversity of cultures
Ancient history worlds largest democracy bit by
Growth demon
Expectations
Governance
Infiltrations
Migrations
Right wing
exceptions
Promissory
New polity
Brought in
A New Law
is suspected
anti minority
discriminatory
protest provocations taking turns
clash of ideologies
Capital Burns
OH! Delhi
In a
Tail-
Spin
In the war of Left-Right. Forgotten is Head -Spine
Flying beauties. in Balance & poise
Ever squabbling. Political animals
Still your mind. and take note
Bird flies on 3 wings
Minus rudder
is
cause for
tailspin
_/\_
It was my first journey by train all alone. When dropped at the station by my cousin, I saw a huge crowd waiting at the station. Like a drop in the ocean, I quickly merged with the crowd, and patiently waited for the arrival of the train.
Soon came the grating voice of the loudspeaker, “The Rajadhani Express from Delhi to Trivandrum scheduled to leave the station by 9 pm would be late by one hour’!
I went cold at the thought of another long wait in the sweltering heat of a summer night. Amid an undulating mass and deafening holler and roar, it would be hell tied there for one more hour.
The cry of babies fell in my ears like the squeal of piglets. Youngsters busied themselves on their cell phones, sending missives to their loved ones or chatting with their pals. I sat away secluded, inhaling the soot and the dust, and looking vacantly at the curl of smoke from the grumpy looking man’s cigar sitting opposite to me lazily. When his red falcon eyes fell on me, I withdrew more into cover, regretting once more, being a woman! Drawing a deep desperate breath, I thought of the risks of travelling alone by a night train, and it made my guts contract.
Finally, when the train came hurtling, elbowing my way through the mass of men, I got into the compartment somehow, and found myself, among total strangers. Shoving my suitcase between legs of people, and pushing it under the seat, I sat near the window. All my former fears resurfaced with ugly pincers. Being late, all readied themselves to sleep. Though I lay down with my eyes closed, I couldn’t wink an eye, every little sound and movement, sending chills down my spine. It was the most nightmarish night I can ever think of!
the sky, inky black
moon veiled by stygian clouds~
ants of panic creep.
The bright shining visage
As glowing as the glossy morning sun.
Brighter the legs,
Though not fully seen,
That pulls a thousand eye’s apples
The skirt tangles
Above the knee.
Chubby thighs and knees too.
It was a sober chilly foggier morn
And the fainting Beings.
The rest wool flocked
The socks locked ankles
That protrude the blocky shoes
And the unmindful bosoms swing.
The neatened curly locks hang on her temples
Thoughtful, mischievous timid eyes
With conniving looks –
They look and don’t look.
Cognizant of being starred at.
Look at everyone and not at anyone.
Her whitish brown angular countenance
And the big bag of assumed knowledge on her back.
She walks into the school bus GF 8,
Lost herself in thinking of thoughts -both hers and others.
Pulling down the tens of ‘manly’ sights.
And the unmindful women
Both in envy and admiration.
A Shining Afterglow
we have rambled together
along the Ganges river
just you and me
gazing at each other
we have trodden together
the streets of Bombay
through narrow
tortuous lanes
goading each other
we have sauntered together
along the Delhi boulevard
eyeing each other
and some of the wonders
of the world
we have ambled together
along the snow-capped hills
of Kashmir hand in hand
skating down the snowy slopes
we have ascended together
the steep Tripura hills
laid with thorns
pulling up each other
we have braved together
the desert of Arabia
strolling side by side
under the torrid sky
till our throat had run dry
we have explored together
the Kenyan reserve forest
with its wild fauna
breezing together
with our lips fondling each other
we have roamed together
in British public parks
meandering amidst marvellous
alleys of red roses
vying with envy
at cherry blossoms
and inhaled their intoxicating scent
we have swum together
in the cerulean waters
of the Mauritian shores
with the setting sun
reflecting its pink afterglow
on the leisurely undulating waves
where we lay in close embrace
atop ivory sands.
we have for so long
shared the same roof
during the summer
of love and care
when the salutary
shine of the salubrious sun
illumined our lives
during the winter
of dark despair
when woeful wild winds
threatened to blow down
the façade of our home
we have for so long
been duty-bound
caring for each other
since the break of day
during the sweet glow of the day
at the dim twilight hours
during the darkness of night
we have for so long
seamlessly shared
our joys and sorrows
our fears and hopes
our pains and pleasures
our daydreams and nightmares
now that the autumn of our life
life Is at close
let the afterglow
of our love linger on and on
shining until will last our breath.
November is best month of year
Winter begins, new year is near
It is time to enjoy the sun
Go for walks in afternoon sun
Most people seen sitting in sun
Eating nuts and chatting is fun
It becomes dark outside too soon
Time to finish work before moon
At night really cool winds blow
Temperature is very low
Nights spent at home with heater on
Water cold geyser always on
Bed time in blanket thick and warm
Cold weather surrounds in full form
In morning hot drink is a must
For bathing hot water is must
In cold water body is numb
Unable to move, you feel dumb
Date: 10/27/2020
8 syllabus count per line checked at poetry soup syllabus counter
There was love in phases.
Phase I – Korean Cultural Center, Delhi
It was wrapped in the kimbap, served
with soy sauce on the side – only one
had to ask for it. We wanted to hold hands,
and keep holding – only one had to ask for it.
Love came, saw us with the kimbap,
and left, without asking first, empty-stomached.
Phase II – Siolim, Goa
You would be surprised at what I do
for love. It was tucked deep under our bed.
We looked for it, begged it to find us; it refused
to show – this time, asking did not help. There was
a cosmic rendezvous in the sky that night, yet
ours remained absent.
Phase III – Queen Street Station, Glasgow
It was in the seeds we fed the ravens. It is
impressive how easily they follow you, it is
even more impressive how easily I followed.
Goodbye seemed easy; it healed something that
I did not realise needed healing – this time, I did
not ask.
Phase IV – Lumpini Place, Bangkok
I remember packing it; it is kept somewhere safe,
yet I can no longer find it. Bits of it left in places
where it was felt the strongest – no one asked for it.
There was love in phases, and in phases where
it became a memory.
Red in China and India,
Purple violet at Jerusalem in Israel,
Blue in Russia and Greece,
Blue light above Rome and Paris,
In the USA, there is green,
But the smoke of Cain the Pharisee,
Talents of common Light concealed,
Talent of the commandment "don't kill,"
In any culture, expressed in his energies,
Else the natural rainbow in the sky disappears,
Juggling of shady fakir,
The giant Ferris wheel,
Devil's toxic wings,
Torches pale of missiles,
Hypnosis,
But I insist,
Waves of the blue ocean are the silver,
Bronze of sound in a blue-light atmosphere,
Golden shining of flowers by spring,
Steel of light green from leaves,
On the bones go the tissues and fabrics,
The bowstring,
White linen with yellow from England,
Embroidery Coptic from Ethiopia,
Orange tree,
Kings-Magi bring on the wings and feet,
Abel's gifts,
Red warmth from Delhi and Lima,
Wool of sheep,
For the temple of God Love and Friendship,
Seven churches of the Apocalypse,
Cherubs with metals and fabrics by seraphim,
Kings-Magi and shepherds at Christmas,
Not for that alchemy
Of the beast
That rises just now from the bottomless pit,
The choice of peoples,
To be or not to be,
The parts of the beast's body, the feast of Herod, or the communion of Jesus?!
By service, ministry,
Two signs — of the dragon or the united apparitions of the Virgin,
Queen of Peace,
The beast hides the talents, for to kill with a fake apology,
Arm the peoples and give the gunsight with a kiss,
The king of "Sodom and Egypt,"
Six six six of hypocrisy,
Say welcome with a dinner for the pigs,
To eat all beings,
I said "no, no, no" for me and this little Eve,
With all my medicine of vine and olives,
Flowers in the alive vase of onyx
Before the Very Beautiful Mary,
In Truth and Spirit,
Protection ring
Of my noble destiny,
Arena against evil,
These suiciders don't kill before the end of my mission,
Witness of the Trinity,
Trinity, the First Virgin with children of my family.