Long Lentils Poems
Long Lentils Poems. Below are the most popular long Lentils by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lentils poems by poem length and keyword.
Embellished saris glide with hot winds
as the clatter of bright anklets varnish
female heels rippling on New Delhi's trails:
pungent waft of curry permeates
through a local mart —betel, cinnamon
and mint leaves flaunt their skin—
kohl for Oriental eyelids, ambrosial herbs
rousing elder men-- while a bowl of lentils
incite my buds.
Although the thick of dust settles mid-air,
Delhi’s evening of jasmines reflects
a holy incense sanctifying a mystical chant
quiet , ethereal as I adorn myself
with a comfortable sari and layered bangles ,
gazing at Taj Mahal, if only to imbibe
this calm energy unfamiliar yet known
inside my core… my breath follows
Hindi prayers of wonderment
on and on like a song of moonlight,
until I accept allow such deep belonging
through the city’s rhythm with the world
and somehow, intimately mine.
Exotic Contest for Debbie Guzzi
7/20/2017
A puddle tremors
beneath the tyre's basso hum—
the firmament sunk
to pewter.
The carrier rattles: lentils, peas,
metal worrying bone.
A pulse conducts him forward.
Delivered: Client 11.
Returned: Client 34.
Address not located: Client 66.
Wet asphalt exhales iron.
An elder’s hand
alights upon the parcel—
warmth threading apprehension.
Peppermint breath,
a fissured laugh.
He smiles, tasting
the ghost of something kept.
Past encampments—
blankets breathing with damp.
Protein bars nested
like provisional vows.
Gloves saturated. Knees ossified.
The city persists.
Then—
the pavement shears.
Snap.
Night fractures.
Blood unfurls, intimate, undeniable.
Gravity exacts its claim.
The phone convulses.
Where is my order?
How long?
“Hospital,” he says.
“Leg fractured. Haemorrhaging”
Urgent: Client 12.
Order incomplete: Client 47.
The device keeps cadence
with his heart.
Hospital fluorescence.
Ferric tang on the tongue.
Antiseptic’s reprimand.
Even supine, he inventories the load.
The system does not abate.
Then—
his father’s voice, unaccelerated:
“Son,
have you remembered to nourish yourself
while sustaining the appetites of others?”
He reclines.
Pain metronomic. Motion unceasing.
Something within him
finally granted
repose.
I live in a city of a Indian state
where you can discern refreshing greeneries, that accommodate
the kingfishers,Rollers,peacocks,snakes and white cranes
Although rice is the major crop,black lentils,sugar canes
corns,sunflowers and groundnuts are the seasonal crops
Since it is a rainfed area,the agriculture rely on rain drops
Pongal,the three days festival is celebrated in mid-January
for the year harvest,as a thank giving ceremony
The Brihadeeswara temple,inscribed on list of world heritage
along with airavateswara temple,surviving 1000 ages
have convoluted stone carvings and intricate sculptures
reveal our ancient cultures and they are our treasures
I am talking about the beautiful city
Even though it is a city,people's behavior
pretend you to feel like an unrivaled village
The people are more generous and obliging
No religious gap among us,Christians go to mosques
Hindus to churches,Muslims to temples,we are unique
People came from different regions and communities
Nayaks,sauarashtras,marathas savvy the value of unity
and we are living examples of unity in diversity
we follow all the traditions without ambiguity
Tamil is our official language,the name
of city reveals the unvarnished fame
If tears don't run salty into the bowl of lentils of life, you don't know the seasoning of pain,
It's just a breeze, a transient wind over your infinite fields of indifference.
When you weep, tasting of all things, satiated with the world's profound murmur,
You conceal an unknown yearning in your sob, and the salt crystallizes in the chambers of your heart.
A fog settles on empty tables, laden with silences and sighs,
An autumn uncontained in dishes, woven into the silvery sleep of drawers.
Each bread crumb—a solstice between the full day and the night that comes,
In every crack of dawn and dusk lives the undigested, jumping love.
If you've never swallowed the moonlight mixed in the porcelain chalice of fate,
You have not felt how heavens descend, trickling through veins the eternal flow.
A scent of wax burning bloody in candles, once vivid now drained,
Is that flame under which your dreams fry and the healing aches like an eternal cut.
If you’ve never rocked hope in the quarter of the night, when hunger cuts your breath,
You'll never understand how every goal of deceit sways in throngs under the dome of eternity.
And you may see in the falling star, a shimmering silver platter flung across the sky,
Not a token of luck, but a scorched piece of the universe refusing to be swallowed without a fight.
If you've never eaten with tears in your eyes, you'll never know what life is...
The one that cuts and runs, and settles like a canvas of cold upon the ground of longing.
Poems are prepared for you in frost and heat, to sip stoically, with the natural taste of torment,
And you thirst, not for water, but for the essence that rises from the chasm of crying, wildly enchanted.
O my Lord, I hope you don’t see man as virus or disease
This bright blue globe you gave us faces such profound unease
We’re told that we will drown or burn though some of us will freeze
And only you can save us… can we have our ball back please
We drive our cars and fly in planes for holidays on skis
And now they tell us that we’ve brought our planet to its knees
We’re gonna catch the sun and stick up windmills in the breeze
Which feels like ‘fingers-crossed’ so, can we have our ball back please
We make it, break it, use it up
We throw it in the trash
And then we buy another one
Cos all it costs is cash
But now it seems our number’s up
We’ve been a little rash
This Earth unlike the phoenix
May not rise up from the ash
Another storm has ripped up houses, bridges, cars and trees
The sewers overflowed into the rivers and the seas
But now we’re in a heatwave and it’s thirty-five degrees
It’s really rather hot so can we have our ball back please
The scientists keep saying we eat too much meat and cheese
They tell us we can all survive on lentils, beans and peas
Which won’t achieve too much when just a few of us agrees
And so I have to ask you, can we have our ball back please
We make it, break it, use it up
We throw it in the trash
And then we buy another one
Cos all it costs is cash
But now it seems our number’s up
We’ve been a little rash
This Earth unlike the phoenix
May not rise up from the ash
This thing that’s wrong with planet Earth is killing bugs and bees
And coral reefs have had their day in many far off seas
Though governments may talk a lot, they never hear our pleas
Their taxes will not save us… can we have our ball back please
We leave our oil and gas right there beneath the sands and seas
Then ship more in with diesel fumes and importation fees
We’re gonna catch the sun and stick up windmills in the breeze
Which feels like ‘fingers-crossed’ so, can we have our ball back please
We make it, break it, use it up
We throw it in the trash
And then we buy another one
Cos all it costs is cash…
To save the world we’re armpit deep
In net zero decrees
But only you can save us…
Can we have our ball back please
6/28/24
Oh heck no
It's not good feeling like a puppet made by Gepetto
The overhead downpour constant and torrential
Can't find my way through this god forsaken residential
My sleep was hardly ever restful
So much blood on the money that it turned to red gold
It's kind of sad how easily men fold
As a battle hungry general
Many many heads rolled
I slayed my enemies by the denful
Plenty said I was another hell-bent soul
Wasting all of my potential
Just living a life that was uneventful
Problems incoming by the tenfold
Still folks being petty and judgmental
Doing things that are disrespectful
Or considered dreadful
Never resentful
They don't ever feel regretful
It's beyond coincidental
As well as being consequential
Time has proven with it's credentials
I find it hard to trust anything presidential
Why do so many poke the bear and rarely settle
I'm thankful for this meal of lentils
No matter if I have utensils
Will humans ever stop being vengeful?
Too many quick to fire the first projectiles
Little good it does to be forgetful
And far too neglectful
It won't stick if I write it in pencil
Life gets stressful
So I got to have the mettle
To take care of what's essential
Times turn harsh it just can't always remain gentle
I'm sad that I can't find or understand anything ancestral
We've no proof of anything celestial or spectral
I could be wrong though I'm not a perfect vessel
Still not yet fully successful
For now I'll make some medicine with flower petals
By using a mortar and pestle
Blue tarps and pink foam.
That's all some people have to call home.
This is what they use to cope.
They do their best not to lose hope.
Within the span from sun to moon.
They continue to pray for help to come soon.
The roof and walls are built with love.
They stay warm and dry with faith from above.
Scraping up the only choice they've got.
They do their best with what they've been taught.
Futures and past times doesn't leave much for presents.
Boys in grubbers, little girls in peasants.
Passerby's and neighbor's want to tear it down.
Don't want them messin' up their pretty little town.
But just where would you have them go.
So that nobody would have to know.
Well soon is coming, one way or another.
I think it's time to help our brother.
Party line details leave the tax man knocking.
Sadly, the fools just keep on talking.
Someday the moon will light the night with peace.
And hope in a bottle won't be just a lease.
The river of life will flow forever more.
Right outside of everybody's door.
Khar!
or
An alkaline extract!
my mouth drools
o! momma
everytime I think of the dish
whether it is the beloved
amitar khar (i know as papaya khar),
tiyohor khar (i know as cucumber khar),
khar dal (i know as khar with lentils),
not to quit
sometimes with dry fishes or meats
dish itself is the contentment when served
i call it as 'quintessence of Assamese Cuisine'
elixir from the ashes of burnt dried banana peels
hey
when imbued
the khar dish with platter of steamed rice
whether i am glued in Assam or anywhere on this earth,
my heart's cravings...
portraits the way of a yarn-
'the viridescent melody muffled the white snow mountain dance in folk tales'
o! momma
khar with some rice
Eating your leafy words
Is wise,
Not absurd,
Not a vitamin guise.
Sweet logorrhea of crimson carrots
And great golden potatoes
With blueberry beauties
Nibbling newborn walnuts.
Sage sachets invoke lucid lentils lore,
Rosy resonance forevermore.
The tastiest side salad awaits
With vanilla visions for all my mates.
I'm coherently linking leafy greens,
A poet's realm of vegetable things.
Linking lavender to raspberry resonance,
Merry mustard seeds, and petite pumpkins.
Starlit sunflower seeds are swirling
While the ivory cauliflower is boiling,
And raspberries on broomsticks baffle
The mischievous umber mushrooms.
Those who eat dinner with me
Will digest split pea poetry,
A discerning dinner with glee,
Filling our carefree cups with timeless tea.
In my kitchen's grasp, where spices hop free,
Whispers of our memories, in each recipe.
Khichdi's humble grace, a bow to our roots,
In grains and lentils, tradition assent.
Herbal notes linger, a fragrant ballet, a scenic design.
As generations gather, in love's display.
Grandma's hands, a harmony of care,
Amma's gentle touch, flavors rare.
Papadums bloat, tales of old flames,
In every fold, history takes flight.
Black tea's warmth, with Tulsi's caress,
A sip of time, warm embrace.
Amma's pickle, a tangy delight,
Mingling with Khichdi, in consonance light.
Handpicked mangoes, memories unfold,
A dab of pickle, a story retold.
The Great Indian Kitchen's embrace, ceaseless love