Long Dramas Poems
Long Dramas Poems. Below are the most popular long Dramas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dramas poems by poem length and keyword.
In the atmospherev of love, a paradox reigns
Where women chase the tumult, the heart's pains
A nice guy's gentle touch, a soothing breeze
Bores them, and they yearn for the stormy seas
Peace, a virtue men pursue, is a curse
To women, who crave the whirlwind's traverse
A man will flee the drama, the emotional strife
But women cling to the rollercoaster of life
The sweet-bitter thrill, a potent aphrodisiac
Lures them, and they succumb to its toxic charm
Even in calm waters, they'll stir up the deep
And conjure dramas, their souls to keep
A nice guy's kindness, they'll exploit and use
But a bad boy's edge, they'll crave and refuse
To let him change, for in his rough terrain
Lies the excitement, the thrill of the unknown game
If he yields, she'll scorn him, her attraction lost
For the bad boy's mystique, she cannot be crossed
But if he resists, she'll stay, her passions aflame
Tethered to the chase, the emotional game
So, men, beware, the earlier you know
The better for you, to traverse this woe
Nice guys don't win, their hearts laid bare
For women's hearts beat for instability's snare
Treat them as they wish, with a measured hand
Don't overdo, don't try to understand
For in the tumult, they'll find their delight
And in the peace, a dull, unending night.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYZC-VbcpRg
Surrender and bond your inner self, breathe deeply
accept the moment that has been given to you and share
the inner circles of your positive energy, be yourself
Immerse your thoughts in beautiful light and re-incarnate
with your present concept, it is there to teach you how
to live freely, without ties to earth dramas and misshapes
Repeat your mantra " I am potential " and enter into bliss
flower your thoughts and vine them to your corporal light
breathe in the oneness of the Universe and breathe out
Water your senses with peaceful rhythm and like water
move gently into the waves of contentment one breath
at a time... Time erased, you are a nanosecond away,
Surrender, bond , surrender , live, surrender, breathe
Patradoot or The Messenger25 /Many
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
You would find, her shining and graceful face,
Sad and gloomy, due to long separation from me,
My beloved loves wearing modesty,
More than any other gem and jewellery, dear letter.
The creator has not made any mistake,
In making her a matchless personality,
By seeing her only, you can easily decide,
She is the one who dwells in my heart, dear letter.
When the groups of Indian women, singing war songs,
Will show their presence before you, dear letter,
Showing the splendors of awakened women,
Their courage would fetch away your heart, dear letter.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 2nd August 2010 to continue in 26
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
has any question or queries, they can
send me an email on [email protected]
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my father late
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor in 1932, when he was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
They come alive within her dreams each night,
as eyelids close, her parents take the stage,
back to a time when everything's alright,
both of them show no ravages of age.
Domestic scenes, times past, her part she plays
as conversations bandy to and fro,
I lie still and hear everything she says,
what they are speaking I shall never know.
These dramas never come at her behest,
only when her subconscious wields it's powers,
a sudden cry, from it's hold she is wrest,
awake she now sobs in the darkest hours.
They say time heals all wounds, this is not so
when through the years those left just can't let go.
Patradoot or The Messenger14 /Many
English version by
Ravindra K Kapoor
Deserted villages of poor and suffering villagers,
Would fascinate you to stop and look at them,
Somewhere you would find farmers sitting in groups,
Talking or listening the stories and consoling each others.
The beauty of green forests, would charm you dear letter,
Ahead you would find gardens, decorated with flowers and creepers,
And you would be enchanted to see Krishna* like village kids,
Amid the herds of their grassing cows and sheep’s.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 30th May 2010 to continue in 15
* Krishna. Lord Krishna is a deity worshipped across many traditions in Hinduism in a
variety of perspectives. In His childhood he used to move around playing his flute amid
the herds of cows.
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
has any question or queries, they can
send me an email on [email protected]
Patradoot in Hindi written by my father late
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor in 1932, when he was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.
what is wrong with thee?
o, plenty.
The non verbal,
repetitor.
She listens to wandering
ghostly attempts at
remembering
the past
to perserve
her future
to maintain
a quo.
ta.
of whom she laid eyes on,
upon the day
when her heart spoke
the language
of the unknown monk
whom the captain watts
often quoted,
the bible.s
the jesuses.
the buddhas.
the alahs.
the gods of gods and gods.
the lonely man,
from a distant universe.
sat in the house, on a cliff,
looked out his window to the desolate rocky ocean.
he grayed over time.
over worries
over creations
over complications and simplicities.
he, like us, also laughed and weeped.
with a pen in his hand,
direction from which is irrelevant,
wrote the play of life.
took his time,
might i add.
detailed.
spotted.
dotted.
zags.
his wife never nagged.
he had none.
he wrote.
dramas. mysteries.
but mostly comedies.
once his plays came to act,
suddenly he felt no responsibility.
it was his creation.
his ejaculation.
his ****.
his piss.
it was his external provocation.
the grand master of them all.
as we *****out daily nutrients.
and contemplate the paths of desires and dreams.
question reality. non reality.
the non creative.
the non god.
the non art.
rain drops fall.
as if nothing happened.
or perhaps a response to whatever had happened.
she thinks.
she also worries.
how ever miniscule.
grandiose.
sub-turbulous the design.
a hike to the Himalayas and back.
not a journey for the weak hearted.
This 'Heroic' Crown of Sonnets, I am posting as seven separate Sonnets, for ease of reading. This is written with thanks to a fellow poet, who is most likely too modest to be mentioned, but whose great mastery is evident in everything he writes.
ONE
I come home, and she’s cooking in pajamas,
She’s overjoyed, she’s out of bed, at all!
She handled it with no qvetching, no dramas,
She wasn’t ill, but she was never well…
I smell rice, olive oil, garlic and onions,
She makes food simple, clean, wholesome to eat,
She weekly went to doctors – not for bunions!
She had long, skinny, happy, healthy feet!
I kiss her like I ne’er before have kissed her,
She hugs and lets me hold her by the door…
She dealt with life so wisely – how I’ve missed her!
She had to keep both feet firm on the floor.
I come home, and she’s in her fuzzy jammies,
SO beautiful, and cutting up salamis!
1. It's been years, months, weeks have gone by.
I've grown so much I can barely recognize my reflection. No lie.
Each day more, I've seen you star in less of my dreams and it made me glad.
I wrote a poem or two about the feeling of finally letting go of the best of me—you. My bad.
2. Mom drew the curtains today, I need some vitamin D.
She shut them back when she walked out, watching you ski.
My heart,
it beats,
When you're far and stops when you're near.
3. I thought I would have forgotten about your laugh, silly and cute.
Your eyes were ordinary but canvas worthy. Bullets of memories it shoots.
Your hands were soft as daisies, pretty as lilies. You'd stare at me as if I were a movie. Oh my.
Waves through my hair and entangle with mine under the moonlit sky.
4. I tried hard not to sound cheesy when I say you are my loophole, a bad habit,
A complete *****,
Force of nature, like the earth round its orbit,
Three hundred sixty-five days a year.
5. On a cloudy fall sky, I sat down in our favorite trees, penning down my thoughts.
Ink dries ahead of every word. Would you think I were cool if you saw me now?
Like a green leaf in a rainforest, a canvas stuck in a gallery, did I run out of slots?
Or am I like the river we bathe in when we were young, long gone and replaced. Do I still have a shot?
6. With you?
All through?
7. If not, let me go. I've got other dramas to star in. I won't be a second lead to none.
Can I
Go away, leave me alone in the cold dark forest, barefooted while she warms your sheets.
Hold me, let go, shunned.
8. Is she your forever?
Your seahorse?
Dancing to your favorite tune?
When I only need the source?
9. Your heart,
It beats,
Thump, thump, thump.
It's all for me, she feels.
10. About the poems I lied
Over a hundred, for each I cried
Thump thump thump
It beats
For you
Just because I like, I must write :
Creation cum recreation !
Trying to make my writings bright,
enjoying own composition.
I wish to venture broad spectrum ,
Just because I like, I must write.
Features, fictions, poems ! Random .
Dramas , text books, my programs tight.
Devoted to work day and night,
exploring through various fields.
Just because I like, I must write,
multi activities to yield.
Passing days on satisfaction.
Thoughts and ideas showing light..
Writing is nicest temptation :
Just because I like, I must write.
Patradoot or the Messenger 35/Many……….
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
The moment she would notice during her plays,
She would shout ‘ltter’ ‘ltter’* in her broken voice,
Showing the expressions of amazing happiness, dear letter,
Because you would be arriving, from her father’s place, dear.
Her innocence would come out from her expressions,
And from the melody of her broken words, dear,
When, she in her lisping sweet and broken voice,
Would express her affection for her father, dear letter.
While adoring and loving you in her sweet little mind,
She would take you towards east, dear letter,
To tell her mother that you have come, she would,
Convey that in her broken sweet words to her mother.
Filled with the happiness given by the girl child,
In the garden, you keep moving towards the door,
Till you reach and see my beloved sitting there,
Singing a lullaby for her darling child, dear letter.
Keeping her eyes on the front door with hopes,
She was praying for me from police atrocities,
With wishes and hopes in her mind, dear letter,
She would be waiting with love in her eyes for me.
Ravindra
Kanpur India Sept 2010 continues in 35.
*Ltter. Letter.
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can
Send me an email on [email protected]
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.