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.
the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly
I am a bus rider
That makes me unusual
For a white male
From an upper middle class family
Our people are not bus riders
Though some are subway riders
Bus riders are other people
The poor, minorities, immigrants
People who don’t drive
Because they are blind
Or have a DUI
And in my case
I don’t drive
Because I have bad vision
And bad coordination
Just never got the hang
Of the whole driving thing
Fortunately for me
My wife does the driving
But I still take the bus
From time to time
I rode the AC buses in Berkeley
As a child
Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus
Rode them long before BART came along
And afterwards as well
As an adult seldom rode the bus
But when I did so
I was always impressed
By the sheer diversity
Of the bus riding property
Hundreds of languages
All sorts of sexual orientation
Some were white
Most were not
Most of my fellow passengers
Were nice enough
Some were friendly
And some were lost
In their own thoughts
And a few
Were scary looking dudes
With the look
Of someone who had done time
And were capable of more violence
I also rode the bus
In Seattle as a graduate student
A lot of fellow UW students
And the usual immigrants
Minorities etc
And some white people
Commuting
And in DC
Over the years
I rode a lot of buses
Mostly to and from the metro
But I got to know
And love the DC buses as well
I also took the greyhound bus
Across the country
Several times over the years
All over the U.S.
From Bay Area to Stockton
From Bay Area to Clear Lake
From Bay area to NYC
NYC to DC
All over the USA
Taking the Greyhound
Was always an an adventure
Met a lot of interesting people
As people on long distant bus rides
Tend to open up and talk
To pass the time away
Overseas I took the bus
All over
In India, in Barbados
In Spain and in Korea
The Korean buses
For many years
Were difficult for foreign visitors
As the signs were all in Korean
Most have signs
Now in English, Chinese and Korean
And are much more foreigner friendly
Riding the bus
In America
Allows one access
To the underbelly of American society
The poor, the marginalized
The immigrant communities
That many middle-class white people
Just never see
And for that reason
I am glad
That I am a bus rider
What on earth is going on over there, do you have something to share, what on earth is going on over there, you are acting as if you don’t care. Is there any good news for us? Is there any recipe in the cook book? She always has something new to cook.
There is food in the pantry but the drain is clogged up, you have to get the technician to remove the plug before the day is done so that you can get the food from the pantry.
The wine is fine but there are few berries on the vine. You have got to put in a new crop before the autumn ushers in. They have the grain, the water and the drain; they just need a helping hand to clear the land.
The drums are leaving the town and the villains are homeward bound, the oligarchs are surveying the place and the customers are running all over the place. Everyone is looking for the best price before they roll the production dice. The season for the “bleeding” can be so demanding when you have twenty meetings in one day and nothing positive is coming your way. Negative energy will make you sick, and kinetic energy will throw you off the cliff.
Oh, I almost forget the shares; India has rice and beans to spare some people dislike the frosting on the cake because some flavors are out of date.
The Indian rice is white and it is piling up to the sky, the people will starve to death if you don’t act before the break of Dawn.
Narendra Modi, the King of the East must gather his administration in front of the beast, to discuss the rice ban before starvation devastates the land.
We don’t understand the reason for the ban, is it to purge the bad people from the land? You cannot allow the good to suffer for the bad or you will leave the entire world sad.
Prime Minister Modi is a good man and he need all the rice to feed the 1.4 billion people on his land .
This has caused some disruption in the global supply market. This is what you should do to protect the horse and the shoe. Export half of your rice to the globe and keep the other half to nourish your people’s soul.
You can add an extra dollar to the price to compensate for the ruthless sacrifice, consult your loyal customers and apologize for the rice ban.
You must put the politics aside and serve the people with much delight. Send the people to plant more rice and rescind the global rice ban, Prime Minister Modi…lift the rice ban.
Your wise eyes glistened with cataracts, showing me the hazy Indian sky
The wrinkles on your face, the lines by your eyes, showed me the joys of the hills and caverns of the lands
The raised veins on your hands, bumpy yet smooth, acts like the Ganges, a life supply for you and many
The graying in your hair, shows me the struggles and triumphs, the marriages, the children,
The arthritis you have showed me the pain and determination, the years of work, the labor,
The gentle touch from your rough hands, show me your motherhood, your warmth, your love
The words you spoke, your native tongue, acted as the voice of a generation of women, a voice that’s been heard for years, but only sometimes appreciated
Your loss of hearing showed me the loudness of actions, the loudness of your people, the stories, the lessons you have heard over the years
The loss of memories for you, only showed the tremendous amount you lived, you saw, and felt
Your old passions and anger shined w the ferocity of the fiery red Indian sun
Your dry and cracked hands, showed me the deserts of Rajasthan
Your old gold, your wedding ring, your bangles, show me the beauty of our country, the traditions, that even after the years of wear, we still have value
Your old stories of your family show me the interconnectedness of us all, one large tree, supported by your roots
“Mother India, Mother India,” I call into the void,
Wishing you still were near to bring me back home
The wonders you have seen, the pain you have felt, the revolution and wars you have lived
Mother India was you
A woman older than the world, wiser than philosophers, more beautiful than the Taj
As one Mother leaves, the next generation takes her place,
Yet we never forget our ancestors
The ones who fought, clawed, and struggled for us
The ones who sacrificed their lives for us
You truly loved me
This much I know
You were a mother and grandmother
In more ways than one
You were my grandmother, but you were Mother India
You taught me to love my culture and you were my reason for going back to India
Your time had come and your daughters will take your place.
You were Mother India, I was Daughter India
My world is different from yours,
but the same values and lessons I hold
I miss you
But I know i have the same passions, the same strength, the same love running through my veins
Here I am standing on the milky way hoping that someone would come my way, I have been here for a thousand years with millions of stars stuffed up into my guts and the solar system with is unwinding rhythm orbiting the galaxy in the center of the mass and the dark matter is running around the town in a brand-new set of gowns.
Where they come from, I don’t know, but they are about to start a brand-new show; they are wearing alien skirts and blouse made out of purified dirt.
I see them coming in droves they are parachuting through the clouds, they are acting as if they have no feeling, and they are coming at a speed that will smash up your zeal and turn the planet into ashes and dirt.
The planet is running around with the sun and the mission is not yet done you have to go back in space and tie up the loose ends that are hanging from the heavens; they are three thousand light years away and they cannot connect with the beam to release the clogged-up steam.
The galaxies is sending a message to you, you must organize another mission in the sky to find the point before the beam dies; it will plunge the earth into darkness for a thousand years and the plants would die, and nothing will pass through the sky.
The galaxy is of three main types, and you have got to separate the spirals galaxy from the irregular's galaxy and the elliptical galaxy before the universe move.
You have to arrange another trip with Russia, Japan, China, India and America with Britain and Germany at the tip. You have to examine what is going on up there because I am seeing some strange image that is causing me to fear, is it digital manipulation or is its political frustration, whatever it is, it frightens every living creature to its core, and you have to keep asking for more.
Touch me if you can see me, touch me if you feel me. I don’t have to see the movement of your hands; I only have to feel the courage in your soul and the fire from the sun engraved in the center of your hand.
It can scan through any door and take you to the upper floor, this is my latest invention, and it can take me straight up to the sky without a nickel or dime.
Touch me if you can feel me, touch me and pass the energy around, touch me with the tip of your fingers and your long-awaited dreams will come through; just touch me and the universe will open the big door for you.
Poem written near a Cemetery 1 of 2
On 13th February 2012
While moving near the walls of a cemetery,
I saw the glimpse
Of a bunch of some tiny wild flowers,
Blooming in the golden Sunlight falling on them,
They were waving their simile,
With every gush of wind,
On the monument of a deserted grave.
For me it was a new and exciting experience,
To enter in that cemetery of eighteenth century,
What had brought me to that spot,
Where those wild flowers were still smiling,
Remains a mystery
Every time, I think and rethink.
I saw hundreds of monuments and tombs,
After entering in that preserved cemetery,
Some were telling the story,
Of the grandeurs of its dwellers,
While others were there,
Standing without a crown or a story.
The grave on which, I saw those flowers,
Was not showing an appealing face,
Age had withered its luster and charms,
And time had left its marks on its face.
Being in the last line of that cemetery
It was waiting in the long queue,
For some kith and kin of Sophia Ress,
May come some day and
The face of that noble soul’s grave,
May once again obtain its lost glory and grace.
There I found those lonely wild tiny flowers,
Still blooming and smiling and dancing,
With every gush of wind,
Telling silently a beautiful story of its dweller,
As if, they were paying their homage,
While remembering her lost songs and images.
In the morning hours of the Autumn,
The tree leaves were falling,
Everywhere on the ground,
And some were even falling on me,
Either to tell the universal truth,
Of the inevitable departure of everyone’s one day
Or perhaps to accompany me,
In that graveyard of all those,
Who were totally strangers for me.
After watching that grave and
Appreciating those tiny flowers,
I explored each and every tomb and monuments,
Standing in the memory of those British,
Who had lived a royal life during those days,
When they lived here and ruled my country,
For a very long time.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 18th Feb. 2012 concluded in Part 2
Text of the Stone on Sophia Rees Owen
"Text of the Stone on Sophia Rees Owen
In the memory of Sophia Rees Owen
The beloved wife of H T Owen Esqr.
Of the H C Civil Service, who died on the 27th
Nov.1834 aged 31 years 11months and 18days.
Leaving her husband and Six children to lament
Her loss. She was a sincere friend, a truly
Attached wife and a devoted Mother.......
My life as a spiritual seeker
I am a bless child, A spiritual seeker, I live my life with gratitude and appreciation for humanity, all manner of life is precious.
I embrace the good, bad and ugly that is part of being human, we are all capable of doing evil things, the creator gave us free will to make a choice, on which path that we will follow. Everyday I make a conscious choice to take full responsibility for my words and actions, stop look and listen moving forward with the truth and the courage of my convictions, with love and services for my fellow man and woman.
We are all on a spiritual journey, to find our true selves which leads us to the creator and our spiritual community.
A spiritual seeker is known by their sweet words and their telling of the truth, which is an offence to those who do not want to hear it, followed by their good deeds, virtues and services to others.
Beware of the person who's sweet words blind you to their greed and dangerous corrupt deeds.
The human race has lost its way, we have become computerized, bionictized and metatized.
We do not connect with one another in a spiritual or human way any more
We are losing our ability to think for ourselves with our conscious mind
We are out of balance with the creator, but by the grace of the creator and spiritual seekers world wide sending out prayers every second that humanity and this planet survives.
A spiritual seeker embraces all persons beliefs, knowing that love is the common goal, there is but one creator, who created all things and love is the key.
I have had the privilege and honour on my life's journey to sit at the feet of Sathia Sai Baba, in his ashram in India, spent time in the Canadian mountains with a native Shaman, time in the jungles of Costa Rica with a native Shaman my greatest joy was spending many years in the company of my good friend His Eminence Abuna Yesehaq Mandefro, Archbishop of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, in the western hemisphere and South Africa, everyone of these spiritual teachers that I have traveled to came to me in recurring dreams over several months and years, before I found the courage to go and seek them, not one of them tried to convert me to their beliefs, they all welcomed me as a child of God.
I do not go any place unless the spirit guides to that place or person
I am a spiritual seeker
Come O rain come, throw your showers
On this part of earth and do not run
All the simple inhabitants of our villages, towns and cities
Are waiting for you with tears in their eyes
Come O rain come, throw your showers sublime
On fields, soil, animals, trees and birds flying
Even the trees and birds, animals and herds, Human and insects
All are gloomy and sad, with rankles on foreheads
With worries on their faces, as their hopes are getting buried
Without a shower to wipe their rolling tears from eyes
Come O rain come, throw your showers
On this part of earth and do not run
I know, why you are offended and not listening our prayer
But the animals and birds, our simple villagers, animal herds
Even fields drying up in excessive heat do not know
Why you are offended and not listening their prayers
Oh pardon them as they do not know
The misdeeds of those, who are spreading cities
And are cutting trees, forest and are eliminating fields
In the name of modern living
They go on spreading cities after cities
And industries after industries
These less blessed species of humans, do not want to know
The priceless value of mother earth
And the value of each drop of water and rain
Which comes due to green mountains and glaciers
Trees and plants, fields and ponds,
Lakes and rivers, they all are the
Darling children of the God of Rains.
To appease you O God of Rains
We are making our prayers with folded hands
You are and you were always our dearest
O God of Rains, on you we have offered our prayers
And have offered since ages our songs and lyrics
And even our heart and souls
Come O rain come, throw your showers
On this part of earth and do not run
The soil of earth and air also is boiling with heat
The birds and animals and all living creatures
Are waiting with their tired eyes on sky
To search a piece of clouds, which can extinguish their fire
With showers on their fields, plants and trees
Bless them O God of Rains, with your sublime drops of rains
Ravindra
Written on 24th June 09 originally in Hindi as a prayer Song
When draught like conditions were seen in a part of my state.
Translated in English with changes and some additions on 5th Dec.09
Incidentally God heard the prayer of someone and
From June end onwards God of Rains blessed us with good Rains.
Kanpur India 5th December 2009
Vasava – An untold story 10/Many
Curtains made of Silk with gold thread embroidery
Were hanging on all the doors and windows of the auditorium
Big silk curtains, were hanging behind the dance stage
Shining and blinking, because of gold and silver on them,
Were brightening the dance stage, making it bright like a day
Beautiful Persian carpets were displayed
Covering the entire auditorium, where the guests were sitting
A thin such carpet was also lying, all around the stage
Leaving the dance floor, which was made of Mahogany wood
On which, Vasava was sitting to start her first Raga of the day
All the eyes were drinking the nectar like wine of Vasava
So lovely were her looks and so intoxicating was her youth
The beauty of her spotless body, was spreading its charms
Which was coming out, from every part of her body, specially
The matchless beauty of her eyes, legs, waist, hands and bosoms
King Suyodhan was invited on the stage to declare the Utsava to begin
And then appeared the attraction of the Utsava or the day, Vasava
The drums and musical instruments began to flow their sounds
The team of musicians accompanying Vasava, took seat near her
Suddenly all became speechless, so that they may not miss a word of her singing
Vasava’s face appears to have taken, the beauty from full Moon glow
And the gold Noopur* which she wearing in her feet’s
Were ringing, on her leg’s movements, creating a melody on its own,
Her recitation of Saraswati’s* prayer had already enthralled everyone
And now she was about to begin, her first performance of the day
Ravindra to continue in 11
Kanpur India 21st March 2010
Copy writes protection as per Poetry Soup automatic Copy write provisions also.
* Gold Noopur Noorpur means small bells, which dancers wear while
performing the dances in Indian. The Noopur which
Vasava was wearing were made of Gold. It creates a
sound on the movements of legs. Normally it is made
of brass and many such are tied up in a cloth belt.
* Noopur A hallow anklet containing tiny bells
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
The Boatman’s Song 2/ Many
Urvashi’s heart was aching to hear and to see the elegance
Of the boatman, while he sing those melodies on earth
A great longing started sprouting in her bosom
To visit the earth and to listen those heart touching songs
Which like a powerful magnet were pulling her towards earth
Where flows the Ganges and lives her unseen love
To control her ever increasing desire of hearing those songs
And to see that unique boatman, who lives on earth
Urveshi tried to engage her more and more
In the courtly dances and engagements for Indra
But the more she wanted to escape, more she became enchanted
By the echoes of boatman’s songs
Which were tearing her heart and
Making her mind almost intoxicated,
By the melodies of those heavenly songs
The pleasures and comforts of heaven began to pinch her
Like the piercing thorns
Even the dance and music, which were her pride and passion
Became dull and charm less in the wake of those songs
For which she was hailed
As the best among all the Apsaras in the entire universe
Heaven seems to bring no joy and rejoicing for her any more
Her dancing steps, which were the symbols of perfection and beauty
Even started betraying her
As her own heart was no longer in her possession any more
And she found that her mind and heart
Were swept away by that unseen boatman
Sailing his boat somewhere on earth
Apsara Urveshi after finishing her dance that day
Told the God of heaven, Indra
That she perhaps can no longer perform any dance
Owing to agonies of her heart and restlessness of her mind
And her legs were not in tune with her mind to perform
A flawless dance and song by which she had captured the
Hearts of all Gods and Goddess, what to say of humans on earth
She thought and thought and found that she can only normalize
If she can hear the songs of the boatman
Singing in full throated ease on earth
The echo’s of which were hovering in her mind like clouds
And twisting her heart to see that singer sublime
Ravindra
Kanpur India 5th January 2010
* Apsara = A Nymph dancer of heaven in the court of Indra as per Hindu Mythology
* Indra = The Lord of Heaven as per Hindu mythology
* Urveshi = One of the beloved Apsaras of Indra
* Saraswati = Goddess of knowledge, music & arts
* Jungle = Forest