Long Neem Poems
Long Neem Poems. Below are the most popular long Neem by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Neem poems by poem length and keyword.
the combustion of combinations of created
An angle of a candle in a demi flux should not be mistaken for tooth floss, cherry pickers, or ironing boards. For the numerous numbers of numerals note noticeable nuances of a nought. And a nought is not a neem or a norm so always string baubles in appropriate fashion when decorating in a seasonal style. So spoke a smoke who was whirling a spoke about in the air whilst carrying some ordered cuisine. Hiding from the mirrors crept a serious serpent in spectacles askew. The smoke glared at this. It did not like serious serpents for serious serpents were quite often servants to sevens and nines who lived in mines of golden authenticity. Authentication is not a noted occurrence in an attic crease and neither in any upstairs upstream window frame either. It is said that when there is rot then to peel away the dirt could expose many mangled marked layers. Bean curd then? Yes. Faces akin to beaming beans. Collective cans causing chaotic catafalque cat claps. When sailing on a big ship of over three hundred thousand acres always play a game of golf when there is a high wind. Good. Now it is time for the littlest production company of hereditary mice to spin, dance and preform aerodynamics in a nice pink caravan at an elevation of two hundred million feet. Sky then? Yes. Wow. The wobble of a jelly with a trifle is most entertaining to regard. Especially when seated on a rusted stallion or a coating of ironic iron. It is to be said that portions of bread and soup can actually point several pistols at once. Thus giving bread and soup a glow of fame for frightening the tablecloths and causing them to swoop over the breads and soups to cover and to swamp and spillage of secretive secretions of liquid jûs in a turreted hat. But please do not trip over that cat over there. He is being used as a giant doorstop. Ha to it all said large farm gatherings. Hahahahaha they all said in great audio reflective fields of moo baa oink quack neigh ee ore. But collectively sounding like a hahaha and a hahaha is not a hard hat hitting heat and nor is it a large six thousand ton hippo genuflecting in a pond of mud. So whirl away then. Good. Z hypothetical Z at six little worms smiling at twelve cute tablemats. X
Form:
I have never seen such a supervillain in my life. It's the novel disease, COVID-19, it's alive Begins in China and spread worldwide subsequently
History of dry cough and sore throat, consequently.
It's triggered the largest economic crisis globally Lead to a drastic inequality across the countries emotionally The death toll around the world raises, increasingly
Cats and dogs have been infected by it unceasingly.
Why this pandemic has become so serious drastically?
We aren't keeping distance from others physically. Forget to clean our hands and foots daily. And never forget to wear a fitted mask on mouth properly
How do our ancestors manage these diseases successfully They spray cow dung water before the house cleverly Drink neem, turmeric, lime and ginger juices frequently And wash their foots while entering into the house neatly
Pandemic breaks our hearts but opens our eyes, surely. We remember to practice our traditional methods fully. Life is trying to teach us something, regularly Learning new things save us from the cruelty particularly.
Sri Lal
Crows
i.
I come from nowhere,
and I have nowhere to go,
I tell the crow perched
on a low neem branch
beyond the Periyar River.
He agrees.
He and I are free.
We speak the same language.
You know who I mean. He eats
the garbage you and I toss aside—
the endless sacks of rubbish
hauled down to be burnt
at the water’s edge,
like a secret in the dark.
ii.
I have seen smoke plume
like the crown of peacock
feathers my blue love wears.
Garbage burns beside the river,
but I dream that he woos me
with white champa bloom.
His hands are like the water
on my skin.
Still, some nights,
the fire of rag and bone rises
so that even the crow
cannot sing for the smoke.
Some nights, the blaze
chafes my throat,
and swallows the sky whole.
Some nights of jasmine bloom
and sweet rice, I am
mute in the face of love.
iii.
So many crows, some say—
the erratic caw,
and I remember cities far north,
where monkeys climb the temple walls.
They swing and chatter
like a mind that longs
for enough gold to buy
an unbruised freedom,
like flesh and bone that hunger
for a gentle touch in the night.
Wherever we are,
some cry carries us
away from ourselves—
the voice of a crow,
an unquiet mind,
the cremation ground
where a father’s beatings
go up in smoke,
or the bronze tongue of the temple bell
that calls good souls to prayer.
iv.
This saffron hour before dusk,
a small silver mallet tunes the tabla—
knocking dowels up and down.
Soon, bhajan will rise
beyond the firepit
beyond the wisping smoke
of jasmine and sandalwood.
I have not yet washed
clean from hauling garbage.
I stand beyond
the stone-pillared hall,
by the big tub sink,
run cold water across my arms.
A crow alone sees me,
in a way most men do not
see the lesser sex.
We are outsiders, he and I.
His call is full of longing,
and I answer back
beyond the liturgy of temple rite,
the cry from my own throat
a song he understands,
my small mouth open
like red lotus before dark.
Published in Doubly Mad
Christmas does not come alone, It comes with the new year too,
A new year invites resolutions along,
The resolutions may be funny, old or new,
This year I can use bitter neem sticks,
or abrasive powders for brushing teeth,
Tooth powder may be eggshells and bricks, I want to become a hedonist in breathe,
Who pursues worldly life's pleasures, I am typically fond of eating sweets, I want to taste different dessert serves, Like the ancient Roman king's stories, who made vomitorium in the Palatine, And wanted to make empty in the stomach, I can use hands for eating meals on anytime, Meals like the fried goat's tongue and duck, . I want to play the old game dice,
Which is the game of luck and tradition, Try to drink the barbaric beer with ice,
And sleep in the nest of grasses in position, To attract and treat every person equal, I can wear brown mask for all the days, If there is any funny resolution of will, . I shall follow it for your satisfactory ways.
Bendy old whales taste like snails doing a backflip. But swarms of over eighty nine peonies are closely followed by nine bulls, an elephant tribe, a beetle colony and a party of laughing butterflies. Whose aerial display party was angled to the left in the sky with a north easterly breeze catching the cute curtains and shifting the might of the beasts in airborne state. Like undulating flights of the uniquely formed umbrellas. With wingspans measuring over two thousand kilometers. And kilometres are neither kale nor kaleidoscopic kitchens. So watch out for the breeze block ballet which often entertains sand at high tide. But disposable barbecues can be used as a hang glider if sufficient cello tape is applied to fix the wings. And the throttle can only ever be made by a six foot horn of a walrus. Stifle no swamp who is attempting a speech. And speeches by swamps are very very important. They tell the people not to drop nail polish in bowls for the bowls can get upset and cry which then causes creaky creamy bowmen to sink apples and donut cakes with piercing shots. Such a playful pudding is playing pivotal ping pong in a very talented way. It really is quite acrobatic you see. And a maze on a plate can only ever be cleared with a salt shaker and a hooded pepper grinder whose antics in the woods please the woodpeckers who have a six hour break from peck peck peck to watch the scenes in bemused contemplations. So the little pretty whale is in a flowery dress today. Good. That will please Mr shark whose love of female forms could stem from a wild neolithic neem but not a norm. Really not. Chasing skirts round and around. Wow. Interesting isn't it? And a foregone conclusion is skin to a fox falling over a peanut while a crispy wafer laughs. Hahaha drooling drive deciphering dreams. Hahaha mist in a bath of gravy. Xxxxx tyrannosaurus training teacups. Xxxxx organizationally z z z z z z z at a left over left-handed angle of a righteous right-handed rigmarole rink. Z 46% plus 293 degrees is a delightful sunbathing pan of whipped cream. Z z z z
Form:
Gewoonlik is my boundaries sterk
Word ek assigned deur guidance met a Engels'vlerk
My journey neem langer en my sielsnare word gevleg
My boundaries raak flexible en a unieke konneksies word aanmekaar geheg
A journey het ontwikkel in a vriendskap so eg
Dit gaan my verstand te bowe want dis so opreg
God praat in a taal
Wat ons laat stil staan
Aandagtig in afwagting laat luister
Na Sy liefdestaal wat Hy in ons harte fluister
God wil my wys ek is gebless
Sag en delikaat word ons 'gepress'
Hierdie keer is ek uitgebole vir a ses
Soms moet ek relax, let go en vergeet van die res
Hierdie is wat God vir my skets om te besef...
A vriendskap gestuur van Bo
A konneksie met frekwensies watse sein nie verloor
God het ons gebless met baie in stoor
A hegte band in ons harte in geboor
In a droom staan ek buite my liggaam en staar
Na a sielskonneksie so raar
A Visie in die droom omvou my om te aanvaar
God se tyd en redes is set in stone en klaar
Ek word gewys
ek is besig om op a deurskynende glasbord te skryf
Met rooi cokie en merke soos ek uitvee en oor die bord vryf...
jy kom met jou blou cokie aan
Help my met die organogram en teken a traan...
Verward staan my siel en kyk en wil net nader gaan...
Let op na die stilte, die konsentrasie en vloei
Saam vorm ons die kleur op die bord wat gloei
In a moment kraak die glas in a spiderweb form...
Begin ons huil soos a raining storm
Verward staan ek en kyk en vra Here wat nou???
Als was so spontaan hoekom kan dit nie aanhou???
Ek kry a duidelike antwoord wat van langs my af kom
Dink aan die visie...
dit slaan my stom...
A deurskynende glasbord so sterk en skoon
Maar wat is die doel as daar nie a boodskap in kleur vertoon
sonder kleur geskryf is die glasbord doelloos
Die 'smutch' merke op die bord is van gebeure in die lewe wat jou laat bloos
Die traan word vasgevang in die spiderweb
om jou te herinner julle is daar vir mekaar in die scattering moments of life in 'flashing' red
Live your life met veelvoudige pret.
Quilts and woollies of winter all folded,
From February’s fold chill when escaped,
In March, when all ready to welcome spring,
Sun seems in hurry to wear red turban,
Few morning walkers wear woollen mufflers,
Sugarcane seems to have ripened early,
Mango, Neem, GulMohor show darker shades,
No longer the spring’s usual tender green,
Spring if at all looks like an unsure bride,
And summer rather like an aged groom.
Sun’s ripe old fervour may add to his charm,
The nature may look keen to dance with him,
All’s not well with sun’s too sharp a grimace—
To wear in early spring a red hot face,
Which, with his red turban looks burning red,
The green robes of spring fail to soothe like balm.
The red rage of forest fire adds to heat,
The flowers that blossom wilt by the eve,
A stray koel coos in a mating call,
Her Fifth Note sounds more than usual poignant.
Seasons, the Nature’s clock sound an alarm,
The all awake man refuses to wake,
Designed to be the school to say something,
Fails to teach man, he no more a student,
Nature no more a temple where man prays.
The seasons have forgotten their old ways,
No wonder they follow no fair cycle,
Winters wilts as summer seems in hurry,
Spring has no time to spread old charm to cheer,
And summer, left alone, reigns through the year.
_________________________________________
Blank verse: | 07.03.2023 | spring
Poet’s note: Spring in India comes on Vasant Panchami, the fifth day of waxing moon. But this year summer seemed too eager to hoist its reign. Winter was never so harsh nor spring so pleasant thanks to global warming. Holi, the festival of colours that welcomes spring seemed to come in a hurry. This blank verse wonders if spring has lost her innocence.
Stepping down from the AC coach
on to the railway platform
A hot wave of salty moist air
drenches me
On my customary visit
to this city I'm tethered to
by my memories..
She coyly calls herself Chennai
like a new bride renamed
in her husband's home
At heart though she is still Madras
and to the likes of me ;
It's a relief to slip into my mother tongue
to bargain with the auto walla
after mouthing words for months together
in an alien tongue..
We slice through the dense traffic
As I nod distractedly
to the driver's political soliloquy
While my eyes search for familiar landmarks
that were part of my youth
Moore market
Poppat Jamal
Saphire theatre
Gemini flyover;
the city rushes by
a phantasmagoria of urban scenes
until the fragrance of panneer roses
attack my nostrils
as I watch flower sellers
deftly spinning silver threads
around thick rose garlands...
The milling crowd at Pondy Bazaar
with women shopping tirelessly
for jewels, sarees and utensils..
Saravana bhavan coming to the rescue
of their cravings
for sambhar vada or bhelpuri....
I quickly make a mental list
of goods to take back when I return--
Coffee powder
baby mangoes
mor milagai
ambika appalam
not to forget
a visit to the Naidu Hall..
The bottle neck at Panagal park
a hub for matrimonial shopping
slows down my journey,
then a familiar slide down
the doraiswamy subway
and a furlong along the railway tracks
I alight in mambalam
where my mother awaits with open arms;
A week's time for me
to imbibe the city's moods..
to gaze at cawing ravens on neem trees
to discuss the story line of soaps on TV
to inhale the simple aromas of brahmin meals
Before I bid farewell to it temporarily
Conceived and born in the rainforest
I have traversed the Savanna and the Mangrove
I have trudged through its Swamp
And dwelt I have in its Woodland
But I only bear tales of
The Montane and the Marginal Savanna
I have beheld its landscape
With the Yellow trumpet spreading its wings
Like a peacock exhibiting its splendor
And taken shade under the Neem tree
While its Masquerade and Eucalyptus trees
Shield us from the sun’s afternoon anger
I have known its two largest rivers
And its highest heights at Chappal Waddi
I have seen the rocks at Olumo, Zuma and Aso
And the beauty its coastlines once harboured
I have danced in its rainfall and borne its desert dust
And heard myths of plateaus in Mambila, Jos and Obudu
I have heard the drums, flutes and maracas of its sons
And seen maidens from diverse tribes and tongues
Wriggle with beads across their waists and ankles
While men swallow morsels of cassava and millet
And drown themselves in wine eked from palm
While we feast on the flesh of sacrificial beasts
I have known this land and its riches in
Marble, gold, sapphire, salt, oil and timber
Yet, like the stars of the skies, I am unable
To number its armies of tired and hungry masses
Who enthrone kings but must paupers remain
Because their forebears swore to oaths of servitude
I have seen this land wrestle with destiny
And chiefs of the tribes growl like crabs
Proclaiming that the different marks on our faces
And symbols of our creed make us fish and bird
I have seen patriots metamorphose into traitors
And builders of monuments hold the garments
Of those that brazenly rape the old woman
Door arrives door disappears
Door deprives door shares
Had doors been toward one way only
Life would have lost its lustre
With one hand life provides
With the other life robs us
Life sometimes brutally divides
Some other time it is Mother Teresa
When my doors closed several times
I wept but didn’t stop reading poems
My chromosomes of hope kept me supporting
Till a shaft of sunlight brought new doors
The deep green Neem tree in my dream garden
Went into a dizzyingly birdless gloom
Leaves and flowers brutally plundered
Roots torn asunder in my room
But again one day the spring sun stopped by
Clouds called at its door with shower
In the windswept branches came contentment
Now I hug it in a happy deep breath
____________________________________________________
March 26, 2016
Neem is a tree in the mahogany family Meliaceae. It is native to India, Myanmar, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Malaysia and Pakistan. It grows in tropical and semi-tropical regions. Products made from neem have been used in India for over two millennia for their medicinal properties. They are said to be antifungal, antidiabetic, antibacterial, antiviral, contraceptive andsedative. Neem products are also used in selectively controlling pestsin plants. Neem is considered a part of Ayurvedic medicine. – Simple English Wikipedia