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.
The door was locked forever more
But somehow it found the key
Through evil lies and wickedness
It gained a forced unwanted entry
There I saw the face of Hell
Terrifying as it was
I gave a cry, I gave a yell
In its black and spectral buzz
And standing there from a poisoned well
Uttering sounds of foreign nonsense
In a tongue unknown like a deceiving spell
It moved close to the threshold of my innocence
For years I was haunted by this event
It did though seem forever away gone far
So I became less vigilant
And in un-thinking left the door ajar
Then poisoned gas disguised as perfume
Came flowing in through the crack
A final blow to thoroughly consume
A soul and body in a newly planned attack
I shut the door in its face fast
Locked from the inside
The memories passed through it cast
Into the fires of Hell with nowhere to hide
And the noise of a troubled mind
Was dissolved into a new gained peace
Like lotus flowers reflowering we find
On a Kashmir lake all joy and release
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.
Black and white Advent calendar
I will make you red and green
Haven't you heard the red oleander
Dropping its last leaf for December sheen
Growing up with bullets in the Taliban
Blood spills into the streets of Kashmir
Still the Calendar craves and calls for
Gold, Frankincense and balmy myrrh
Whenever the birds are all gone
Open the crimson card door
See, when the star will return
As the Bethlehem angels soar
In the centre of the white frost
In every cube of icy story
Look at the pink loving bouquet
Smiling to greet the glory
I do remember the pine tree
I had planted on such a day
So that he can keep green
Whether December or May
He will come he will come
Chocolate of assurance in every window
Tender palms and the face handsome
Soft yellow with sunrise glow
Advent box of twenty-fourth December
Leads me to the Angel moonlight
Echoes of the Migdal Eder
Shining star in the ebony night
What is in the last box
Christmas tree or red cherry?
I kept waiting with wonder
Like the child like strawberry
A photo came out depicting Jesus
Almost as a man like we are
With personality as the Mount Everest
And a heart with cucumber care
We will light the waiting candles
Deck up spirited Christmas trees
Lay our ears to the vibrant voice
I come back with the Christmas breeze
The voice rises from the seas and rivers
Also from the stars above
In spite of bullets and pistols
What prevails are his wounds of love
'______________________________________
13/12/2018
Originally published in all poetry.com
Sharing with soup friends here
Tantra trika
Para, para-para & apara
Like the Gunas three
The highest sets us free
Para absolute singularity
Para para interconnectivity
Apara duality
Four paths awaiting selection
As of our orientation
The first Pratyabhijna or recognition
Divine grace in prayerful meditation
The second Spanda or vibration
Resonation with the Ohm pulsation
The third Krama or kundalini ascension
Assimilation in step by step progression
The fourth Kula embracing life in elation
Each moment in the continuum celebration
These paths blend and often intersect
The truth being as we did always suspect
That divine love alone keeps us erect
Moment to moment to moment continuous
The dance of bliss within rapturous & beauteous
Laughter came, opened up the closed door,
Learning felt welcomed as never ‘fore.
Ever since hand-in-hand
The twain of two-some band,
Laughter-starved, learning looks a tired chore.
_______________________________________
Happenings (limerick) |04.06.2021|
Poet’s note: Many of our schools, especially primary and early schools, need to know this. Recently a young girl student in Kashmir wrote a very touching letter to the governor complaining about the burden of too much homework depriving them of time to play. A committee is now looking into this. Sure, the matter needs a serious looking into.
Alabaster used for statues and vases
Brass and beryl
Calcite, relative of limestone and marble
Diamond, pure carbon
Erbium used for fiber optics
Fluorite boosts mental clarity
Gypsum and graphite
Hematite polished into beads
Iron used to make steel
Jadeite graded A B or C
Kunzite soft pink, lilac or violet
Limestone formed from shells and corals
Moonstone heightens psychic sensitivity
Nacre also mother-of-pearl
Opal plays with rainbow colors
Peridot August’s birthstone
Quartz used in electronics
Ruby red
Sapphire a deep Kashmir blue
Topaz November’s birthstone
Unakite green and pink granite
Vesuvianite discovered in Italy
Wavelite a rare aluminum mineral
Xanthite named by ancient Greeks
Yowah nut from Australia
Zircon of many colors
“Lost Road to Kashmir”
Tenderness arrives
late sometimes
in the 11th hour
soft cashmere
wrapped like a child
love around your knees
pale roses
tease golden grail
visions
blushing again
in the twilight years
on some kind of mission
birds
become
bees
honeyed wings
sweeten the hallucinatory
messages written from Blue Sky
dreams sting
slept-in again
the sleep-of-sleeps
Great heights reached
Mountains test journeys
speaking in strange tongues
multiple choice conversations
with mysterious
Angels
on a Lost road
to Kashmir
strewn with pale roses
tease golden grail
visions
choirs soft-winged
ring like bells
echoing loud
Roza Bal
Summoned
by dreams
curious messages
Tenderness arrives
late sometimes
in the 11th hour
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
EASTER
"Tenderness" / Tony Anderson
https://youtu.be/wzGrY7copas
“Mahomet cald the Hill
to come to him.
And when the Hill stood still,
he was neuer a whit abashed,
but said;
If the Hill will not come to Mahomet,
Mahomet wil go to the hil.”
Francis Bacon, 1625
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roza_Bal
https://www.indiaheritagewalks.org/blog/tomb-jesus-kashmir-roza-bal-shrine
https://www.census2011.co.in/data/religion/state/1-jammu-and-kashmir.html
It’s been a long time since they’re rock-and-rolled,
but the music still remains what is was,
a broken levee of thunder and sound
so vital that it defies all time’s laws.
A whole lot of love remains to this day,
from those born after the band rambled on,
greatness perseveres, and still has a say,
after centuries, or just ten years gone.
The wailing voice that’s moving through Kashmir,
the awesome page that we don’t want to turn,
thundering drums that could make the gods fear,
still grasps the mind, and make our spirits burn
with heartbreaking memory of true youth,
when things seemed more dazed, but far less confused.
“Blood in the sacred Valley”- Blood on us
We came as tourists, hearts so wide,
With sandalwood and faith as guide;
To Pahalgam, where rivers sing,
We brought no sword, we wore no ring.
Just saffron threads and folded hands,
A hope to touch our sacred lands;
But prayers were drowned by bullets’ cry,
And mountains watched our children die.
They struck from shadows, masked in hate,
As if our birth could seal our fate;
In name of God they claim, they kill,
But what God drinks from blood that spills?
The chadar fell, the bangles broke,
The incense died beneath the smoke;
And silence swallowed all our names,
But not the memory, nor the flames.
O brothers lost in sacred land,
Your ashes mix with Kashmir’s sand.
But from that dust, we rise and say,
You did not fall in vain that day.
O children lost, O mothers torn,
O sacred blood, unjustly borne;
You were not weak, you were betrayed,
By silence, while the heavens swayed.
But grief is not a chain, it’s flame,
And fire remembers every name;
We carry sorrow in our eyes,
But in our hearts, the phoenix flies.
This pain won’t pass, nor should it rest,
For justice lives within the chest;
Each tear a blade, each breath a vow,
You struck us then, we rise up now.
We are not stone, we break, we burn,
But still we rise, and still return;
For every soul they tried to take,
Ten thousand more shall now awake.
Kashmir, you cradle both our pain,
And courage drawn from each bloodstain;
We grieve, we rage, we will not bend,
This fire within will never end.
Written Apr 23, 2025
© Dr Upma A. Sharma
Deeply touched by massacre of innocent Hindus in Pahalgam valley in Kashmir on apr 22, 2025 by Muslim terrorists
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