Long Krishna Poems
Long Krishna Poems. Below are the most popular long Krishna by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Krishna poems by poem length and keyword.
I want to mirror the sacrifice done as a Samaritan of good faith by the almighty Jesus Christ.
I hope that I can mirror the pure love for everyone which Mother Mary had in her heart.
I will want to mirror the selflessness which comes forwards in the deeds of Lord Ram.
It would be a privilege to mirror the sacrifice of Goddess Sita as a dutiful partner to her husband.
I wish to mirror the feeling of brotherhood and companionship Lord Laxman showcased for his brother always.
I will certainly be very proud to mirror the devotion as a disciple Lord Hanuman portrayed.
It is not ideal, but I would want to mirror the greediness Mata Kekaiye had for her blood relations.
Someday I wish to experience the release from suffering done to him by Bhishmapitamah while fighting.
I will be very happy to mirror the courage and strength of Arjun as a warrior during the battle.
I would be very proud to mirror the sharpness of Lord Krishna in any situation with anyone.
Mirror mirror on the wall of my heart.
Please help me stay erect and never fall apart.
It took us ninety years to get out from under the thumb
Of British rule, and many understand where we came from.
Mahatma Gandhi joined the fight in 1914 and taught us the way
To nonviolently protest with satyagraha, which we still use today
India got her freedom from the British on August fifteenth, 1947.
A jubilant day; I am sure our rejoicing could be heard in heaven.
Dancing and singing commenced in every town and street.
Our sheer exuberant happiness could not be beat.
Lord Krishna was there of course, we felt him in our bones.
We also sensed Radha, and danced to many ring tones.
The joy, the eager excitement, the happiness of that day
Has permeated India, and shall never go away!
1.
Material life in the Material World:
Duality in every direction:
As Heaven above is,
So, the earth below:
With every delicate, red, mysterious rose,
A proverbial, wounding thorn ...
2.
Suburban splendor:
A life of "quiet desperation";
Holy apparition, manifestation,
Suburban confession:
One fine, fine house;
Five exquisite rooms inside;
But not one friend
In any one of them.
One calls through the door of each:
There's no reply; nothing; nada;
Just the sound of the proverbial "crickets chirping".
But unlike the stand up comic, struggling on stage for
A laugh, facing the blank, staring faces of the audience,
One knows there's no one "out there",
Knows one can't "hear them breathing".
There's only solitude,
Only the sound of one's own heart beating,
Finally coming back to one's senses.
3.
Chance, chaotic and mistaken:
Father and child suddenly, unexpectedly -
Trade mutually alienated, hostile glances,
Father versus child, the father the fool -
In an existential fog:
Another small, quiet death,
Saving beauty lost,
A moral universe crashed and burned,
For now ...
4.
Endless summer:
The Ides of August
[Ancient Roman feast day for the slaves]
Sunday, August 13
Summer vacation at the shoreline;
Somehow, girlish and laughing,
Diana in tow, eyes alive;
And there, some way thriving:
Every mother, every daughter,
Every child: Loving, fervent prayers to the Goddess.
And a night like a dream:
Dreams dreamed asleep,
And ones dreamed awake;
The flower of the day time
And the flower of the night.
With gentle whispering, a sigh,
Ghostly pale, water lilies stir -
On a slowly, softly brightening shore -
Awaking, enraptured, basking
In a full moon's timeless glow.
[Above poem in honor of
Edgar Allan Poe, American poet; writer; editor;
literary critic extraordinaire (1809 - 1849);
And of Fernando Pessoa, renowned Portuguese poet;
writer; literary critic (1888 - 1935);
And of George Harrison, of course, phenomenally influential Beatle;
singer/songwriter/musician; producer; Hare Krishna devotee (1943 - 2001);
Haribol!]
I am almost too excited to sleep
Today Holi started
The Festival of spring, the end of winter
Celebrating the divine love of Radha Krishna
Triumph of good over evil
We will have a bonfire tonight
Where we will pray that our internal evil is destroyed
Like Holika the sister of the demon king
Who was killed in fire
I love the bonfire! I see her dancing to her death there
Tomorrow morning is my favorite time of the festival.
Rangwali Holi. Nothing like it! It is a free for all.
Everyone is game! We can smear everybody with colors.
We get out our water guns and water balloons.
Musical groups sing and dance for us.
Tomorrow night things will settle down.
We will visit our family members and eat Holi delicacies.
I love being Hindu!
A Folk Song of India in Hindi & English
Lok Geet – jhulava pe baith …….In Hindi
jhulava pe baith, man karata, bahut mera
hota aaj, yahaan par, mera bhee man meet
badha deta, mere jhoole kee, peng aakaash tak
ud jaatee, main bhee, hava mein, titalee see
chhoo letee door, shyaam baadalon ko, main bhee
meghon se, machal-machal, kahatee tab ye main
lo, bhigo lo, mujhako bhee, dikha apanee preet. 01
.
English version
While sitting on the swing I feel and wish
If my beloved too would have been here with me
He would have pushed my swing up to the sky
And like butterfly I would fly in the air
So that I may touch the dark clouds resembling my beloved
And I would say and insist again and again to those clouds
To take me in arms and wet me, O’ clouds to show your love. 01
.
.
In Hindi
.
pavan se bhee kahatee, kuchh jhoom-jhoom, tab main
mat udaana pavan, kaare baadalon ko, abhee tu
barasane do, ban inhen, nanhee-nanhee, see boonden
samet loongee main, apane aanchal mein, inhen bhee
udane do , saavan mein, baadalon ka, ye gulaal
aaenge, kaanha tabhee, dekhane ko, mera haal
hoga, jab mera bhee, gulaal sa hee, mukh laal. 02
.
English version
.
Then while dancing and rejoicing I would tell the winds
O’ winds, please do not take away these dark clouds
Let them shower their rains forming mini drops on me
I would take all of them in my lap
Let the Gulal (powder of colorful dust) of clouds fly in rainy season
Only then Kanha* would come to see my condition
When my face too would be red like the colors of Gulal.
Ravindra
14th June 2018
Currently in MP India
* Kanha = Another name of Krishna
* Gulal = The dry color powder which is used during Holi
Sleeping, sinking REM deep,
I discerned a hidden cloud break, an ethereal window
nestled among towering, billowing nebulae.
There, spread a vibrancy, a resonance, a resplendence.
Everything shimmered, emitting and reflecting
a golden layered bliss of light.
Was this Christian Heaven, Muslim Jannah, Greek Elysium,
or Buddhist luminous mind, I could not say.
Somehow, my life force, my Yin and Yang, connected,
floating freely, I entered winding, harmonic corridors,
echoing mantras, melding with Gregorian chants.
Soon, I drifted into an immense sanctuary,
a glowing temple, both synagogue and cathedral,
both mosque and mandir, both vihara and guan.
Here, I sensed a great conversation,
a deep exchange of converging consciousness.
Here is where Jesus met Buddha,
Where Moses met Muhhamad,
Where Krishna met Lao Tsu,
Where Carl Jung met Sri Aurobindo.
Here I watched Ramdas with Thoreau,
Tagore with Whitman,
Mother Teresa and Kahlil Gibran,
Mahatma Gandhi and Dorothy Day.
This was holy clarity and sacred, tranquil love.
A sumptuous showering, a gleaming joy,
the Quaker’s inward light of the Biblical,
the Sufis’ luminous vision of the Quranic,
the Hindu Moksha from the ancient Vedas.
But I was just a paltry apprentice,
A novice soul of experience - with unfinished karma.
Yet, in a rhapsody, I awakened
to a wondrous unity of being!
Brimming with memories old
In its light golden look
What a scent, please behold
There beside the rippling brook
We call it golden champa
The smell relaxing and inspiring
Champa-necklace would wear Radha
When with Krishna she is dancing
In our lyrics of three thousand years
Champa finds a thousand mention
Sometimes in smile and then in tears
With Champa many a lovely session
With us it's now rainy season
Lovely Champa silk-clad
We savour the smell and stay to listen
The toop, toop, music sad
______________________________________________________________
Note:(1) Champa – A small, light gold coloured, a little longish, and intensely fragrant Indian flower. It is a common Indian name of girls too on obvious grounds.
(2) Radha, the female figure and Krishna, the male deity are mythological lovers steeped in divine romancing. Thousands of years old and still very much current romantic literature dealing with their love is an Indian asset.
(3) What you say in English ‘Pitter-pattered’, in Bengali we say ‘toop, toop’. Imagine the rains falling on a tin or concrete or leafy surface and feel the lyric in toop, toop.
Important Note: The reason for writing this wonderful story is the fact the gradually the traditional singers (boys and girls) of Tesu, who used to come once in a year with the earthen pot and a light in it on their heads, while singing the songs of Tesu have almost disappeared. This year on Dewali no Tesu was seen by me. I hope that those who have an open heart for other cultures and their beliefs and traditions would welcome this series and would find wonderful love story worth enjoying. Love and best wishes…..
Tesu A Folk Love Story of India 7
The problem was acute and the war was inevitable
Lord Krishna was pondering to find a solution
The only way left was to take a word from Tesu
Who was known for adhering to his given words. 18
Although Krishna heard about him, as a warrior of that era
And that Tesu would be firm to his beliefs, faith and words
Still, he wanted to have a test of his flawless marksmanship
And decided to meet him, in disguise of a Brahman*. 19
Krishna decided to meet Tesu, while he was returning
After meeting his lovely beautiful beloved Jhonjhi
Tesu was too happy that day, after meeting his beloved
As they had spent many sweet and lovely hours together. 20
Ravindra
Kanpur India 10th December 2012 to continue
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws. Copying this story without the permission of the writer is strictly prohibited and would be subject to legal remedies taken by the writer.
Clarifications - *Brahman- The one who knows the creator or a person having profound knowledge and wisdom was called a Brahman. In later ages this became a caste in India and who so ever born in this family began to be known as Brahman.
A stick of simple bamboo. .
A wood of no repute.
Hollow, empty, dull...
Deaf and dumb..so mute.
Then..just a few holes they put..
and Oh!! ..how it looked so cute.
Behold the brown bamboo..
It changed itself to a flute.
Fingers flowed..
Sliding the route so smooth.
Acoustics played paradise. .
So serene and so soothe.
Soft humming sound it found..
Pied Pipers tuned in all around.
Breathing melody deep from heart
Mellifluous magic ? or
Music of Mozart?
What an harmony...What an art!
Lord Krishna embraced ...
His immortal part.
The music of the flute..
In resonance with the Truth.
The world bowed down..
to love and salute...
The 'Opera' of life..a divine astute.
[Dedicated to Aung San Suu Kyi, the greatest Fraud of all times]
Darkness like Halagu Khan is running
taking sword in hand;
Light is fleeing raising its tail.
The decorated dream-city will lose its
electricity for ever;
in all directions, the slogan of hyenas
will be heard only.
Going to the shade of Bodhi Tree,
I asked Gautama Buddha,
'By tasting which poisonous fruit,
your disciples have become insane
and have been involved in massacre
in Myanmar? '
Hanging his head, said Gautama, 'Darkness.'
Going to Bethlehem, I asked Jesus Christ,
'By drinking which grape-juice,
your disciples have become insane
and have been involved in massacre in Mosul,
Baghdad and Syria singing of democracy? '
Hanging his head, said Jesus, 'Darkness.'
Going to the holy home of Moses,
I bowed down my head and said, 'Would you
tell me, by eating which Manna and Salwa
your disciples have become insane
and have been involved in killing children
and women in holy Palestine? '
Hanging his head, said Moses, 'Darkness.'
Going to Mathura city, I said to Lord Krishna,
'Please tell me, by eating which food
offering to deity, your disciples have become
insane and have been involved in massacre
in Kashmir, Delhi and Gujarat? '
Hanging his head, said Krishna, 'Darkness.'
Darkness like Halagu Khan is running
taking sword in hand;
Light is fleeing raising its tail.
Again the days of darkness have descended on earth.
I have been searching Abdul-Muttalib's son
Abdullah's house in Pharaoh's city—
in such a thick darkness, no doubt,
the Sun of the desert had risen
in the lap of Amina!
[Translated by the poet from Bengali]