Long India Poems
Long India Poems. Below are the most popular long India by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long India poems by poem length and keyword.
Kawaali or Kawali ( A form of Singing very popular in India and Pakistan )
SAMPLE OF A KAWAALI - ONE CAN HEAR ON U TUBE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNYwneo08xQ&p=12E509C60B2AAEC7&playnext=1&index=70
I Can Hear your Voice In My Heart Part 1/2 ( More details on my first Blog )
By a Male Singer or a Group of Singers
The singer is trying to please his lover by these beautiful words-
Kawaali or the singing starts from here:
01
'I can hear the voices of your appearance,
On the musical strings of my heart,
Only a touch would play its music,
Such is the fascination of your art'.
01
Reply By a Female Singer or a Group of Singers
The female singer is trying to reply her strange lover –
'You say that I have created music, on the strings of your heart,
But you throw your precious heart on every one, what to say of me,
And you repeat the same story, with every new face you come across,
Telling her with all the drama that only she has stolen your heart'.
02
Another plea By a Male Singer or a Group of Singers
'My heart has gone beyond the control of me,
Such is the graceful enchants of your youth,
Your movements create dazzling lightening,
You say this is just the beauty of your grace'.
02
Reply By a Female Singer or a Group of Singers
'How, when you are not in control of your heart, you say, it is only for me,
Feeling the lightening even in my movements, you sing a song in praise of me,
Your heart repeats the same story, feeling the grace and beauty in every face new,
These are only your sweet excuses, to mould a heart and to weave a story'.
03
Another plea By a Male Singer or a Group of Singers
'What you call the simplicity of your beauty,
The world is dying on it, to sacrifice anything.
It may be a beautiful Adaa* or grace for you,
But, its a thing of existence and life and death for me'.
03
By a Female Singer or a Group of Singers
'Sometimes you talk to die on my simplicity,
Sometimes you talk about the splendors of my beauty,
Proclaiming to die on my splendors and simplicity,
You wish to encroach, even in my dreams, O stranger'.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 9th October 2010 to be concluded in part II
*Adaa- a Urdu word means charm, grace, coquetry
* Husna*or Husn is a Urdu word means - beauty, elegance
This is my translation of a song by Rabindranath Tagore - Nobel-laureate Poet from India. I have rendered the song on You Tube video.
Not only with your words, My Dearest Friend, My Darling,
I want you sometimes, to touch my soul.
My weariness of walking such a long journey..
I am thirsty after spending such a long day…
don’t find a way how to quench my yearning,
This darkness becomes fulfilled with your presence…
let me know, My Darling!
My heart wants to give…not only to receive,
My heart carries all it has saved for so long!
Please stretch your hand, and let me touch,
I will hold, I will fill…I will keep with me for ever.
The course of my lonely journey,
Will turn into a mesmerizing one!
I’m not grieved getting scorched in fire,
Getting cut, scratched nor be my ire,
If at all, greatest pain is this:
Getting weighed with seeds-- grief so dire.
___________________________
Translation | 34.09.2025 | gold, grief, fire
Note: Pure gold was once asked if it grieves getting scorched in fire during its purification process. Its obvious answer was no. Nobles and great souls always have to pass the test of fire. It then said further, if there indeed is some pain, it is getting weighed with the lowly red seeds. In olden days red and black seeds (gunja or ratti, Abrus precatorius plant) were used in India to weigh ornaments by goldsmiths. Transliteration of the Subhaashhitam follows:
Agni-daahe na me duhkham, chede na nikarshane vaa |
Yat tat eva mahaa-duhkham, gunjayaa saha tolanam ||
'Hole in Heaven' composed by the certain dramatist of India
Depicting the Heaven captured by earthly power-mania
Yahweh’s three-leg-throne getting easily bombarded
And the whole heavenly communion getting annihilated
'Bye, Bye, Butterfly' I titled a poetic piece once, my friend
Poems are endless and real poems find no perfect end
I am talking to you today about selecting a fitting tile
It's not so easy when you write a literary work vital
When on earth I find my works getting lesser or no viewers ever
Immediately a pain starts pricking me just like an office pin, severe
'The Respectable Donkey' -well-versed; rhymes jingling, yet, why
This work gets as though dust-bins standing neglected eternally by
What else you want? indeed, important is the way you say
Take time to edit and get masters’ views on what you convey
All the same, find a proper title like 'Taurus in its Temperature'
That attracts anyone who comes across your work makes sure
‘My Last Cup of Whisky’ I titled one of my counseling works
‘Who drinks whisky in a cup?’ a genuine critique questions
Cup or glass or vessel or plate or kettle or pot I simply tell you
If you drink whisky, constantly, you need to take care, Best wishes!
04/28/2021
What's In A Title In 14-20 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
I am a simple middle aged common man,
I have some simple dreams,
I don’t care about your India shining,
Nor I care about your million dollar deals,
I wish a safe country for my daughter,
A life filled with love and peace,
I wish a country free of rapists,
And a street without moral police.
I want a change in society,
Where she won’t be judged by her clothes,
Where she can have boy friends,
Or do whatever she chose.
There is no point holding placards,
And mourn on things that can be avoided,
‘Coz they are useless for a father,
Whose loving child is already dead.
You will fight over religions,
And will play dirty politics,
While I’ll only have sweet sad memories,
Of the victim and the culprits.
I sincerely wish for a country,
Where my girl can follow her will,
Where she is treated like a human,
And not an object to rape and kill….
Date:09/07/2018
I had brought a plastic gun for my little son;
I thought he will feel the shoes of an army man.
Lo! I saw him aiming at an urchin polite;
Addressing himself as a hardcore terrorist…
I stopped, thenceforth, buying any more guns for him;
I filled his room with creative things that'd tempt him.
He grew up reading, researching, gaining degrees;
Plunging into ventures apt for human service…
Guns and gunmen he has under him, now, millions
He heads million military battalions.
I heard, some psycho, with guns, entering a school,
And leaving innocent students in a blood pool.
India, known once, a non-violent-nation;
Getting works done, at gunpoint is today, common.
Guns are good. The purpose of guns is not to kill;
Cops have guns. They're not entitled to use them still.
Guns are instruments like plows or spades or sickles;
Use these for humanity. Reach life's pinnacles!
7th May 2021
GUNS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
While Turning the Pages of Poetry Soup.
While turning the pages of Poetry Soup,
After a gap of few years,
I felt a unique pleasure and thrill in my mind,
The Photo memories of my close favourite friends,
Began to flash in my memories,
Like the pleasant smell of the first rains.
The unique feeling was touching my mind and soul,
As if I was amid my favourite flowers
and the pleasing smell of those flowers,
With cool breeze was taking me away,
In a world of eternal pleasure.
But suddenly I saw few friends,
Had gone too far away in the blinking lights of stars
And would shine only like a star,
On the pages of Poetry Soup,
Never again they would appear to add,
Their beautiful and elegant words and comments,
On the pages of Poetry,
However, their poetry would continue to shine,
With the beauty of their bright memories,
On the pages of Poetry Soup for ever and for ever.
Suddenly I felt that many tiny birds were chattering,
And were singing their love songs,
Perhaps they too were overwhelmed,
By the magic of spring air and by the sound of nature,
Their songs too were touching my heart
But I could follow many of them as they were too far away.
Suddenly I felt myself again,
In the loneliness of a lush green forest,
Which was once a reality and magical charm for me
But now which smiles only in my memories.
As all such beauty of nature and the the beauty of loneliness,
The lofty cliffs and snow peaks,
The big and wide beauty of grasslands,
The charming beauty of cool soothing breeze and brooks,
Are slowly vanishing everywhere in the world
In the bursting population of human beings,
Whose minds are not calm and cool
and their noises are too loud and it is disturbing
The very peace of earth's lofty nature and music
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpur, India 5th June 2023
Instant Poem I have written in a hurry. Sorry if you find any errors.
With best wishes,
Ravindra K kapoor
I've hee'rd some say you just; must not go, visit
That brazen faced man..Who's a maverick Joe..We thought he wasn't.??? But the way some things panned.? Just leave old Joe well out of your plans.' He resides in the deepest depths we know.' Where the cold is like knives.? Or at least a stubbed toe.! He's an old bush-wacker..Ask anyone here.. He ain't real tolerant either dear.' With him up is up.' And down is down, and left.? Well it sure ain't right.! What other faults are to be found. Un-right??? I think a toilet roll is needed.? The waxy type..Much inking must not be impeeded
And it'll remind me he's not a luxurious type, stubborn and pig-iron headed, this is
Streching like tripe, or India rubber, oh yes
There there..I feel most vindicated as i wail and Blubber....)
I've climbed the monkey-sided mountains
overlooking Rishikesh;
a spill of Rishis in the granite bowl below,
each with callous, with incense, with their
various beggaries...each sweet-tongued with
prasad.
I've bent to kiss a broken man;
my lips on his toes, his laugh in my ear.
Antarayaami statuary all around.
Japa mala japa mala japa mala;
Namostute.
I've tucked my frame under
a stories-filled and stories high
Hanuman; folded myself into
a Room of Song. Chalisa after
Chalisa for hundreds of years.
The pilgrims and flowers, the
ghee candles and Sri Ram Sri Ram
Jai Jai
Rams.
I've sought myself. I've sought the selfless.
I've made friends with both.
I've come home dusty only to
be Lost.
I've come home refreshed only to
be Lost.
The Names, the mantras.
The Bhajan, the Ganges.
None had Answers for me.
Each had answers for me.
None had Questions for me.
Each had nothing for me.
And so I bow.
I thank.
Each.
Every.
One.
I thank One.
My Faith
My faith is not only the religion, which my heart embraces
My faith is not only the beliefs, which my Religion tells me to trace
My faith has come from the teachings I learnt
From my first teacher, my father and from Holy Gita and Vedas I listened
My faith and my Religion tells me to love every human being
Irrespective of Religion, beliefs and place
The Holy Gita and Vedas have taught me the joyous songs
To sing for the welfare of not only the human beings
But for the welfare of entire Universe
The Earth is only a mirror of His presence
He reflects in every particle of this Universe
It is in birds, insects and in humans
Above all in the enchanting colors of Nature
We can see His presence
In the alluring heights of snow covered Mountains
Or in brooks and streams which forms necklaces
In varied colors My faith forms beauties and songs
Ravindra
Kanpur India 01.02 2010
[email protected]
Written on 01 02 2010 for Linda Marie’s Blog contest