Long Hindus Poems
Long Hindus Poems. Below are the most popular long Hindus by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hindus poems by poem length and keyword.
When the Earth was in danger 5 /8
Prelude (For Prelude please see part 1 )
Watching the changing season all around, to enchant the dance of Urvashi*,
The Earth began to dance too, thinking that Urvashi’s* dance would save the earth,
What a splendid scene it was, which was spreading a magic everywhere on earth,
No one had ever witnessed this beauty and grandeur,
Neither anywhere in the heaven, nor anywhere even on earth.
Breathless and motionless they were watching only,
Under the influence of intoxication, produced by the seasons Goddess Spring,
The last efforts of Urvashi,* to save the earth and all its beautiful creatures. 19
Suddenly a shocking incident took place, shattering the hopes of everyone,
While dancing with Lord Shiva, pride entered into the mind of Urvashi*,
She began to think that she was performing her dance,
as good as that of Lord Shiva*, and
This thought began to disturb her mind,
disturbing the coolness of her flawless dance. 20
Watching the seed of pride, sprouted in the mind of Urvashi*.
The Goddess Earth, ‘Dhara’* thought, “Now the destruction is inevitable,”
If not stopped immediately, the seed of pride rising high in Urvashi’s mind,
Could become the cause of Shiva’s rage and the destruction of our Earth and the Universe.
Not only she too would burnt alive in the cosmic heat of Shiva’s third eye*, but
The whole of this beautiful Earth and the wonderful Universe too would be,
In flames of that cosmic heat and life from this most beautiful planet,
Would vanish forever and forever. 21
A sudden incident took place in that moment, which disturbed the balance of Urvashi,
Urvashi* fell on the ground, while she was at the peak of her divine dance,
Her dance came to a abrupt halt and with that even Shiva’s Tandava* stopped too,
Lord Shiva opened his eyes to see,
What had happened, which forced him to stop his dance suddenly.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 24th Feb. 2011 to continue in 6
Clarifications
Urvashi* was one of the most beautiful Apsara of the court of Lord Indira of heaven, as
per Hindu mythology. She was a perfect dancer and singer.
Lord Shiva* is the supreme God of Hindus.
*Tandava Nritya* means Dance of destruction.
Dahra*Hindi word means earth.
Trinetra* means The Third Eye of Lord Shiva or which exists in the center of our forehead
Although the place where the dead go is called the world beyond,
some say that it’s located underground while others say that it’s located in heaven above.
Since the world beyond is not the real world where you and I live,
it doesn’t make any difference whether you go to heaven above
or netherworld below
the majority of people, when their time comes,
whether they lived their lives virtuously or not,
they want to go to heaven rather than the underworld.
Because the underworld is dark, chilly and damp,
moreover, time doesn’t move forward but is still,
people suppose; heaven is warm, bright and beautiful
with seasonal changes in colorful sceneries.
The thing is, though may it be human nature to choose heaven,
to me, rather hard to comprehend is the one who asserts
that they are the ones who will enter heaven wearing
a garment smeared with covetousness and hide their deformed ugly heart in it.
Most men who allegedly say that they will go to heaven
are those unable to see their own blemishes, no matter how big
they may be, because they are so arrogant and self-centered.
Nevertheless, they spot other’s flaws so easily, no matter
how small they may be, and scold them severely because
they are self-righteous hypocrites.
They donate a fraction of great sums that they collected from
many tenderhearted good people in the name of God or of charity
and boast on themselves though they appropriate the rest of the large
sum for their purposes, as if they sacrificed a lot of their possessions and precious time, as if they were the most caring and understanding human beings.
Though they ill-treated their own parents they shamelessly tell others
to respect their parents, they are deceptive pretenders. They are men
able to trade their own brothers for any price without the pangs of conscience though they once swore before God that they would be faithful to their brothers.
For those human trashes insist that heaven is theirs though
the men who qualify to enter heaven humbly lower their head
without a word, perhaps Peter the owner of the key to heaven,
is troubled badly with men’s ignominies; it would force dignified rigorous Yama*,
the lord of hell, to smile a grim smile.
*Yama, the Chinese and Hindus King of Hell. Hades of the Buddhism.
Chasin’ Lighting – In Honor of the CUA Crew!
Several rickety rides held together with the faith of the ages,
Sages some might say, turnin’ pages of things old and things new,
The chosen few, riding with the storm,
Lighting flashing on all sides,
Switchin’ gears from fears of repeating histories to mysteries of new days dawning,
Spawning day dreams of elastic electricity, serendipity,
As Barack ascends,
Inspiring men,
They fight the darkness of hail ridden windshields,
Toggling between the unknown and highbeams of luminescent knowledge,
Chasing a faith strong enough to free the fatherless and set the captives free,
Wrestling not against flesh and blood,
But wide turns of satanic deception,
With weapons of light like mad max before them,
They wage war on the dark roads of Memphis, searching like alley cats like Thunder Cats,
For stitches of acts like koinonia,
Chasing a faith in persistent praya’ for a different tomorrow.
Sorrows fading beneath the commitment to serve a God beyond the schizophrenic nightmare of human imagination,
Sorrows fading beneath the elation of love and mercy eternal,
On their way to Oklahoma City,
Fighting for that Jerusalem which will stand forever,
Caught in the obsession of one singular endeavor,
To redeem the minds of our time, and see a renaissance explode out of the womb of suffering,
7, several, 70 times 7 rides, held together with the faith of the ages,
Chasing the courage of Baptists,
Chasing the justice of quakers,
Chasing the wisdom of Episcopalians,
Chasing the unity of Catholics,
Chasing the power of charismatics,
Chasing the stillness of the upper room,
Chasing pentacostal fire,
Chasing a fire strong enough to speak in the language of doubting atheists,
To speak in the language of agnostic scholars,
To speak in the shalom of the Torah,
To speak in the illumination of the Bagadav Gita,
Convincing Hindus of the ultimate avatar,
The Bodhisattva the Christ,
Converting crack heads into prophets of a blessed age,
They rage against disbelief and catch hold the rhythm of heavenly praise,
That all will be saved,
Several rickety rides, like Battlestar Gallactica, a rag tag assembly of apostles,
Chasing the end of paranoid hatred and the daydream of life eternal,
Several rickety rides,
Chasin' lighting
Prelude
This story is based partly on the Indian mythology and partly on my imagination.
The theme is anger, how it can destroy even the entire Earth and if controlled,
how it converts into a creative energy. The incident is from the mythology of
Hindus, which speaks, how Shiva the supreme God of Hindus started
one day his Tandava Nritya * or the Dance of Destruction……………..What was
the cause of this anger would be explained in the concluding part of this story.
When the Universe was in danger 1 of 4
The cascading spring of poetry or anger, start flowing,
When pain got absorbed, in one’s mind and heart,
And the agonies of heart, show their somber face,
When they dance on the lips, while words take shapes.01
The utterance becomes a melody or a loud voice of thunder,
Depending upon the depths, of pain and piercing thorns,
When tears start rolling from eyes, without stopping for a while,
Like the streams which keep flowing, without ever stopping.
When the waves of pains, strike high touching the air and,
The separation from love splashes against the sky,
It takes shape as a pain of heart, and goes-up like high waves or,
It burst like heated lava, coming from a Volcano’s chest. 03
Suppressed pain strikes the rocks, when they comes on its way,
The sea of turmoil creates a fearful noise, while hitting the rocks,
The anger then burst, like the sea surf covering the mighty rocks,
To engulf everything coming, before the raging mind and heart. 04
Considering the end to save the lives, the earth started shouting loudly,
As if the Tandava Nritya*, had started to engulf the earth,
O Please Stop, You are the God of creation & destruction too,
Have mercy, O Shiva*, O Please stop, your Tandava Nitrya,*
Or else the whole earth would forever come to a halt. 05
Ravindra
Kanpur India 14h Feb 2011 to continue in 2/8
Clarifications:
Shiva* is the supreme God of Hindus, who is also the source of all creations and
distractions. Shiva’s Tandava is a vigorous dance that is the source of the cycle of
creation, preservation and dissolution. Tandava depicts his violent nature as the
destroyer of the universe.
*Tandava Nritya* means Dance of destruction
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.
Why do we fight,
just cause we don't agree?
Seems like we have enough to
waste of time and energy.
They made Shylock antagonist
but really he was more right than he was Jew
for we all have the same eyes to view,
the same organs, senses and affections too.
We're similar in so many ways,
yet we obsess over our differences for days.
We discriminate against those others-
the disabled the destitute and the gays .
A black man, George Floyd was killed
over a 20 dollar bill
and once Jamsetji Tata could not enter an inn
because of the colour of his skin .
They didn't like the trans woman's voice,
the black man's hair they despised.
The villagers believed they were so much different from them
that they fought them and condemned
right under the eyes of their beloved Totem
whose chants they knew all so well
"Love thy neighbour" at the church they'd tell
yet they wouldn't accept a foreign immigrant
and people even slightly different.
"She's black and fat and ugly",
they said like beauty's not subjective.
She was only nine then and
of her body she was never again acceptive.
Her mother told her she's lovely
but nothing no one said could help
the words of those few
had imprinted on her like a tattoo.
In a little village far away,
gossip travelled fast.
Small or big
no secret would last .
The village found out he
married a muslim girl.
They beat him with stones and sticks,
they were done with his foolish tricks.
Returning back from a temple
a woman said about another couple
"they're inter caste, their marriage won't last "
over the poor couple a jinx had been cast.
The villagers cast jinx on the "jinxed castes"
the villagers wouldn't touch their hands
or visit their lands.
These castes were deemed untouchable.
We're more similar than we think,
More like each other than we believe.
We emphasise too much on our differences
instead, our similarities we should see.
A world where Hindus and Muslims don't fight.
One world where all the races unite.
A place where brotherhood beats bigotry
is the world as I'd like it to be.
A Song from my book in progress - The Boatman’s Song
Its part 1 to 26 already on Poetrysoup.
NOTE: For my Poetry Soup friends: I may not be posting any comments and new
Poems from 18th Feb onwards owing to a minor eye surgery I would be under going
On 19th or 20th. Feb. As such I hope to resume my writings around Feb. last. Till then
I would be taking a short leave from all of you. With love……. Ravindra
A Song
O beautiful indicator of the season of Vasant*
How blooming you feel in the wake of spring
My heart is still in the grip of autumn
Trying to wipe out the hidden agonies and pains
I am waiting for the clouds to shower some rains
O beautiful indicator of the season of Vasant*
The Earth is spreading its beauty in the colors of spring
And yellow flowers of mustard are singing a tune of love
The Sun has started spreading bright light on everyone
To wipe out some of my agonies and pains
I am waiting for the clouds to shower some rains
O beautiful indicator of the season of Vasant*
The colors of Holi* are waiting to get mingled in water
And the beloved hearts are trying to embrace their lovers
Dipped with the heart touching color of Tesu*
Which arouses powerful sensations in every lover
To get lost in the arms or dreams of their beloved
To wipe out some of my agonies and pains
I am waiting for the clouds to shower some rains
Ravindra
Kanpur India 15th February 2010
rkkapoor@sancharnet.in
*Vasant = Spring
*Ritu = Season
Holi* = Color festival of Hindus in which water colors made from flower
Tesu only used to be played to truly celebrate Holi. Use of other
types of colors are a distorted form of Holi and should not be played.
*Tesu = A natural flower which leaves its colors when dipped about 12 hours
Have a beautiful enchanting effect on the skin and mind of its players.
Now very rarely used during Holi in India, but it leaves a lasting
impressions on the one who plays Holi from Tesu colors.
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!
( A Translation of Kazi Nazrul Islam's famous Bengali poem "Samyabadi")
I sing the song of equality,
in which all obstacles and distance are dissolved,
in which the Hindus, the Buddhists, the Muslims
and the Christians have got united.
I sing the song of equality!
Who are you? A Persian? A Jain? A Jew?
A Santhal, a Bhil, a Garo?
A Confucian? A follower of Charbak? Continue. Tell more.
O friend, whoever you are,
whatever books and scriptures you carry
into stomach, on back, on shoulder and into brain,
the Quran, the Puranas, the Vedas, the Bible, the Tripitaka—
the Zend-Avestha, the Granth Sahib—
read as much as you desire.
But why do you waste your labour?
Why are you throwing spears into your brain?
Why do you haggle in a shop when fresh flowers
bloom at your roadside?
The wisdom of all scriptures and ages lie within you.
O friend, open your heart, you will find all scriptures there.
Within you lie all religions, all the prophets of all ages
and your heart is the world-temple of everyone’s gods.
Why do you look for God in the skeletons of dead books?
He smiles into the secret concealment of your immortal heart!
O friend, I have not told a lie—
It is the place where all crowns tumble and toss.
This very heart is the Nilachal, Kashi, Mathura, Brindaban;
It is Bodh-Gaya, Jerusalem, Medina and Kaaba.
It is the mosque, it is the temple, it is the church;
Sitting here, Jesus and Moses found the identity of truth.
In this battlefield, the young flute player sang the Bhagavad Gita;
In this pasture, the sheep-grazing prophets became friends to God.
Sitting in the meditation-cave of this heart, Shakyamuni abandoned his kingdom hearing the call of men’s great sufferings.
In this cave, the Prince of Arabia used to hear the divine call;
sitting here, he sang the Quran’s equality-song.
O brother, what I have heard is not a lie—
there is no temple, no Kaaba greater than this heart.
Translation date: 1/3/2016 Sirajganj, Bangladesh
Diwali is festival of lights of Hindus in India.This festival has a religious background
and celebrated all over India and outside also.The poet is sad on this day when this
festival is being celebrated all around, the crackers are let off and the lights are lit
on the terraces of the nearby houses there is joy and celebration all around but the
poet is sad deeply and missing his beloved for his beloved did not wish him on this most
joyful festival.
The poet here expresses here his feelings whatever he feels when he looks around himself
and remembers his beloved.
Blue,green,sparkling white,
make the sky as day bright,
earthen pitcher and candles light,
whole the town filled with spright,
Market,streets are over joyed,
men women tots enjoyed,
earth sky and even air,
seem to accompany wordly pleasure,
Poor and rich all alike,
exchange wishes loose their pride,
worship,prayers wishes are made,
to Rama,Ganesh and Lakshmi Goddess,
Lights are there all around,
pleasure, happiness seem to be bound,
dark is there in my heart deep,
filled with sorrow but cannot weep,
Lights I see putting on terraces,
adorn the townbut me embarraces,
glowing of lights,noise of crackers,
give me pleasure but I am averse,
In the glow of lights,
I see her face bright,
in the noise of crackers,
I feel her laughter,
The pleasure of the world,
like her happy converse,
whole the sparkling sky,
it seems me as her eyes,
Low sounds of prayer,
it seems as she utter,
in the wind- blown pitcher,
I feel as she murmer,
Lights are made to enlighten world,
no light is there to glow my heart,
the light to my heart, shadowed by her,
two words of "HAPPY DIWALI" she did not utter!
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