Long Kashmir Poems
Long Kashmir Poems. Below are the most popular long Kashmir by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kashmir poems by poem length and keyword.
Terrorism had shown its ugly face again.
On joyous tourists poured the fire of pain.
Though with the latest guns, they looked innocent.
Amidst human cries, their smiles seemed imminent.
Who belonged to what faith, they wanted to know.
Could one separate the whiteness from the snow?
Do Hindus and Muslims have different blood?
Does any pot know who formed them from what mud?
Near the corpses of their dear husbands, wives wept.
On laps of peacelessness, sleepy children slept.
Honeymoons of the newlyweds became hells.
Bells of temples and churches turned into knells.
(Militants near Pahalgam in the Indian-administered Jammu and Kashmir, killed 26 tourists on 22 April 2025.)
Brothers once, beneath the same monsoon sky,
Before foreign flags touched your soil,
You drank from the same rivers,
Laughed beneath the same banyan trees,
Shared gods, grain, and ground.
But when the map was sliced by hands not yours,
When borders were inked in sorrow and salt,
A mother wept—her children pulled apart,
Not by will, but by wounds too deep to speak.
Do not let 1947 define you.
It was not faith that fractured your bond,
But politics draped in robes of fear.
The British carved a line,
And called it peace.
Kashmir is not a trophy to be won,
But a scar to be healed.
Not land to be seized,
But a soul waiting for reunion.
Brothers—why aim guns where once you shared bread?
Why trade blood for pride
When dialogue could yield gold?
Your ancestors walked the same fields,
Sang the same ragas beneath stars now dimmed by war.
Let not the ghosts of partition rule your future.
Let not religion—twisted by fire—
Be the judge of your humanity.
Look deeper. See your mother’s face
In each other’s tears.
The world watches with weary hope.
Will you rise beyond revenge?
Or will you let history repeat
Its chorus of grief?
You are not enemies—
You are echoes of the same origin.
It is time.
Time to sit at the same table.
Time to break not borders,
But bread.
Peace is not weakness—
It is the final strength.
And reconciliation,
The highest act of courage.
You were divided by history…
But you are bound by blood.
Return, brothers—not to war—
But to one another.
A Martyr
No heading to a quiet peaceful one world,
Civilisations in name of development,
Producing the deadliest,
aiming towards end of human race....
You kill me, I kill you,
I defeat and conquer,
Souls tranquil rest in grace,
While no living ponder....
When patriotism asks for a price,
the price is a valuable human life ...
Father's elderly shoulders bear his weight,
A mother's affection melts into her eyes,
When brother's heart simmers on low flame,
And inconsolable sister silently cries,
His loving wife longing to meet,
sits on his coffin, draped in white,
Little arms that embraced around his neck,
hold fire to lit the father's pyre,
Warmth of brimming human emotions,
dumped in cold blooded patriotic ice...
A martyr
By own species...
Patriotism,
A dedication or
a frenzied outburst ?
Boundaries and freedom
Be mere words...
Man against man
Be not ultimate weapon...
A land that no one owns,
is that for what we fight?
Defence or brutal sentiment of war,
is there no looking beyond this sight?
Written Sept 21st, 2016
By Dr. Upma A. Sharma
Moved by Inhumane killing of brave Uri Indian soldiers across Kashmir loc
A dark blue midnight awning has its portrait,
etched by a starlit silver lustrous galaxy,
silhouette of black lace frilled clouds,
in somber quietude adrift beneath a vibrant pearl,
amber moon whose gleaming radiance bemused awhile,
at the stark underbelly of flickering candles,
that the urban nocturne spellbound revel in perchance,
sleep pattern held captive by ethereal bliss,
angelic dreams wrapped in opal tincture,
what optic relishes await at early first light,
a colourfast dawn unveils it’s bronze bespoke banner,
heaven bound yellow flare insouciant whim,
red orange burst sky a stirring presage,
for wingspan flight of stone gray plume creature,
natural world usher whose gold throat cadence,
rouses wonderment among the persimmon trees,
phasing into human yearning for awestruck omen,
Kashmir bright velvet hue azimuth a scant gem,
yet sapphire orb twinkles close or distant lure
might embolden dull minds with ardent spark
Oh' Kashmir
Oh' J & Kashmir
My heart is aching,
And tears coming out from my eyes,
And from the eyes,
Of millions of your other countrymen,
From Jammu and Kashmir to Kanyakumari,
Because you are in terrible pains and sufferings,
And you are a part,
Of our heart and soul
And of our day to day's bearings. *. 1
But you cannot blame,
The destiny and Nature,
As the flood,
Which has destroyed,
Your homes and the valley,
Is the result of,
Some of your own deeds and creations. 2
Of blindly cutting and crushing,
All those tender or grown-up
Plants and trees,
Which gave the valley
The evergreen seasons and flowerings
And the nectar likes fruits and
A place which is near to the heaven.3
With the air and seasons,
So refreshing,
And the serenity of snow falls,
And flowers,
So blooming and smiling. 04
But these tender saplings of Nature,
Were mercilessly killed and slaughtered,
Without caring for their feelings and emotions,
The destructions,
Of all those beautiful trees and plants,
Who were the most cherished darlings,
Of all the Hills, Clouds and Rains,
And they were also,
The darling of the cultural heritage,
Of Himalaya and this ancient land of India. 05
You never realized,
That only on the loving invitations,
Of these hills, trees, green plants,
And of the brooks and streams,
The clouds come,
While riding on the winds,
To shower,
Their nectar like love rains,
Which quench the thirst of Earth,
And of every insects and human beings,
And then only they spread a blooming smile,
On every trees and plants,
And on every brook and stream. 06
Some of you thought,
That the heavens can be built,
By removing the forests and plants,
And by keeping yourself in isolation,
You thought to spread the concrete jungles,
Where there was the serenity of orchards,
Trees and plants, hills and flowers,
Lakes and natural streams,
Which always feel happy to flow,
Amid the safe and longing strong arms,
Of Nature,
Which used to stand earlier,
On every footsteps of these hills,
As a deterrent against the fury of Nature. 07
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpur India 15th Sept. 2014
TO BE CONCLUDED IN NEXT.
When alive and livingsocial
within webbed wide world
analogous to an emotional hell
I never experienced pomp and circumstances,
and quavers with inconsolable tears
graduation theme song
popularized courtesy Sir Edward Elgar,
thus suicidal ideations no longer relevant
yours truly need not quell
he rages against series of unfortunate events
comprising his life and hard time
(one protracted existential crisis) and yell
like a rebel into the infinite abyss of darkness.
Every subsequent high school graduation year
antedated since June
ninety seventy seven where
yours truly stepped to the podium
to secure his diploma
(I barely squeaked by
from one grade to the next)
stricken with anxiety and experienced urge
to sprint mile a minute evoking manic tear
zipping by at light speed
creating spindleshanks to blur as pair
sorry excuse for legs burning ghee
until reaching destination re:
a specific rocking in casbah Kashmir
actually a sought after interview
with popular Emir.
Personal mailer daemons aside
Azrael readily befriended me before I died
and ably, eagerly and willing obliged to guide
these lovely bones of mine
went for out of world joyride
away to subterranean habitat
where heavenly delight magnified
sense and sensibility overarching credo
unconditional kindred acceptance
downplayed prejudice and pride
communion among apostolic auras
and personas spied
greeting halo trusting word of mouth
as adequate signal to be verified
nullifying former dependence
on prescription medication
to thwart becoming zombified.
The following pharmacological medications
taken courtesy to cope with anxiety,
obsessive compulsive disorder, panic attacks
and generally curbing tendencies to avoid
physiological symptoms such as:
nausea, palmar hyperhidrosis
(unrelenting sweaty palms), and vertigo.
GLYCOPYRROLATE, TAB 2 MG (thrice daily)
CLOMIPRAMINE CAP 50 MG (once nightly)
RISPERIDONE TAB 1MG (once nightly)
FLUOXETINE CAP 20MG (once daily)
PRAZOSIN HCL CAP 1 MG (three pills nightly)
BUSPIRONE TAB 15MG (twice daily)
PRAMIPEXOLE TAB 1MG (once nightly)
CLONAZEPAM TAB 0.5MG (once nightly
AMITIZA 24 MCG
(prescription laxative - as necessary)
On the far edge of the world there are
fanatics of many minds and religions.
They have uninteresting histories,
jejune existences, and distorted ideas of nature.
Some are belligerent, felony-friendly foreigners.
I’ve never given them a single thought,
because they are nothing to me.
They’re insignificant—living curiosities
and I grant them no more sympathy
than I would a flock of wild birds.
Of course, I’d never wish to harm wild birds
unless they had the wherewithal to attack me,
in inimitable, Hitchcock style.
.
.
Songs for this:
Kashmir by by Toni Jevicky
Bring Me to Silence (Audiotree Live) by Fievel Is Glauque
.
.
felony-friendly = terrorist or crime adjacent
Concluding Part of
Oh’ Kashmir - Last Part 2
One grave mistake was
Shown by the decision makers
Of Kashmir,
To convert the green valley,
Into a valley of concrete.
Dams, buildings and houses,
Were built on places,
Which were the nourishing orchards of Nature. ..08
Changed by the greedy lovers of money,
The builders,
Who built tall buildings and dams,
At the cost of destroying
Brooks and streams,
Lakes and forests, the serene hills
And the meadows,
Which always reminds us,
As the playground of shepherds,
Without caring for
Trees, plants, animals and seasons,
Which always remains the back bone
Of every civilization. 09
Another grave mistake was
That when some people were trying
To drive out,
Several thousands of those innocents,
Who were the inhabitants of Kashmir,
'The Kashmiri Pandits'.
Those who were living there,
In Jammu and Kashmir,
Since thousands of years,
Couldn’t get any solid support,
From their friends and neighbors,
When they were forced to leave Kashmir,
And their friends and neighbors,
Who could have stopped the miscreants. 10
But the others remained only
A silent spectator,
While watching the destruction,
Of their friends and neighbors,
By those, who wanted to make,
Their own separate heaven,
Without the presence,
Of the blooming smiles,
Of these innocents,
Who were their friends, their intimates,
And their childhood companions. 11
Since a long time,
These people in exile
Are living in roofless homes,
With tents on their heads,
They were ignored and were thrown out,
As if, they were not humans,
And not the oldest inhabitants of the valley. 12
Even after the flood of fifth September
When the army men were trying,
To put a healing balm,
Even at the cost of their lives,
On the suffering masses,
Trapped in the disastrous flood,
During the floods havoc prime time,
Some people were throwing stones,
On choppers and on these men in service,
So that the suffering masses,
May not get,
The life giving water, foods and medicines. 13
Perhaps the Nature has not liked,
Some of these actions,
And has shown its anger,
As never before in the history of this land,
To make us realize,
The serious follies and mistakes. 14
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpur India 17th Sept. 2014
In the valley of Kashmir, lived Meena, a pretty lass,
Undoubtedly she had a captivating singing voice!
Myna of Srinagar, people around used to call her,
But she coveted the royal trophy of "Best Singer"
She didn't have the money to buy a bejeweled dress,
Nor the fastest vehicle to attend the contest.
Day before the event, she was sad and disheartened,
The wild woodland back of her humble cottage she went
To open her heart to the stately Chinar and Mulberry trees,
The girl always conversed with them with perfect ease .
To her surprise, she found, perched on a branch, a unique bird,
Who listened to her sorrowful tale - each and every word.
Bedecked with colorful feathers, the bird spoke to her
In the most kind and alluring voice which would definitely stir!
Asked the bird most gently, "Why are you sad, my dear child"?
Meena narrated her story and the bird only smiled.
The enchanting creature offered Meena her bewitching voice,
Her magical strong wings to fly to the castle and rejoice!
Next day Meena, with her borrowed wings, to the concert flew
And sang the most enthralling poignant song people ever knew.
Undeniably she looked ravishing in her simplest dress,
"Best Singer of The Country" she was everyone's choice.
Day after the win, to the woodland Meena went back
Found the generous bird waiting, and wanted to thank.
Meena returned the wings to the kindest creature on earth,
Bird left the captivating voice for Meena with plenty of mirth.
Backpack without a "space", enter without an "e" and sift without a "h"
My Typing speed keeps me in "strumming" exemption these days,
as these are seasoned in radius and ulna, non-prolific though
They hold the state "pliant" without foretelling as stories are often foretold
killing softly in the right quotient is a decisive skill building, willy or con
and above average will be the bestowed perseverance in conceptual belief about oracle
as we all say, If God wills, we will. He shall prevail. He shall be.
I was proposed in an ultrasound session if I will think about abortion
Few years later, he was giggling with his sister inside my paps lab
When he was six months, he giggled with me inside my bathtub, and we
both needed daycare, badly. I, to remember, and he to be steadfast in remembrance.
I, not be landed. and he with his polymath tester, to measure hector, acre , and milli too!
Around February 21st, a few Bangladeshi Masjid do remember Malcom X, and icebreakers
are often weaving through the Jammu kashmir crossing the place poems on both sides
After all, hadi, they, hadi, say!
Only I feel panick attack sometimes, as if my parents are still alive, still olive green.
Neither of the east and nor of the west
Where they were in Netherland and Norway crest, pious souls, to mourn for many more upcoming days!