Long Nehru Poems
Long Nehru Poems. Below are the most popular long Nehru by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nehru poems by poem length and keyword.
Wearing whirls, swirls, paisley too.
A jazzy, snazzy, bell bottomed you.
Slinky hip huggers with large chunky belts in style.
White Go Go boots that never walk a country mile.
Faux fringed jackets, fake fur vests, tall high boots too.
Gypsy skirts with mismatched patterns of every hue.
Please let your belly button show, my dear.
Wear the tightest jeans to accent your rear.
As long as your jeans flare out as wide as a skirt
And drag along enticingly in Woodstock’s dirt.
Homemade embroidery on blouses, and dainty braids.
Unless you deem to do an Afro, beautifully made.
Tight mini-skirts that show off your thighs.
Nehru jackets with high necks are a prize.
Headbands made to match every outfit.
The 70’s was strutted. Don’t you doubt it!
Vietnam War in black and white, every night on TV
Burning bras seemed okay for everybody but me.
Hippies and flower children seemed pretty wild.
To me in the Midwest, pregnant with child.
Today is the seventy third Republic Day,
Of India - young nation - a unique bouquet;
Nice spicy people living in twenty eight states,
And eight union territories; friendly relate…!
Talking more than four hundred twisting tuneful tongues,
With their hereditary folk-dialect strings;
Faiths of ten religions fraternally flourish,
Each in their way love, hope and tolerance nourish...!
Staging, daily, moreover, twenty eight dance forms,
And ten or above folk county art formic norms...
Algebra, number zero, yoga, shampoo, chess,
Origin from this ancient land's lovely abyss...!
We've Tricolor; true Hindu Saka calendar,
Rupee, tiger, peacock, lotus, Ganges grandeur;
Our hospitality has its global flavor,
Shown in humble, courtesy-filled frank behavior...!
Doctor Ambedkar, Constitution-designer,
Nehru, Bose, Dadaaji, lal, bal, pal, and other;
All fighting to gain the nation deserved freedom,
And then its federalism solving each problem...!
Of all, gift of this nation for this lovely globe,
Is, the man, Mahatma Gandhi, in torn old robe...
Who, like Jesus, taught Indians, show other cheek,
If one beats you on one; to reach forgiveness-peak...!
26 January 2022
19 million people, waking up in the morning,
going about their lives, from one corner to
another, jumping on one route and reaching
another. Delhi, you beautiful beautiful city,
I hear you carry, within, a soul so old that
you age with time. Oh Delhi, you beautiful
mistake.
19 million people, 573 sq. mi long city,
so many lives, so many dreams. Delhi, you
infuriating mess. Ask anyone they'll have a
story to tell, of a time not known to you, a
time not understood by me but a thousand
people willing to stop and listen along with
their daily cup of tea.
Everyone in here experiences this city in a
way that quite differently do align, and they
are definitely unconnected to mine. Mine
starts with a gate, number 7 it seems,
a chamber block with III written on it and a
floor to see what is unseen. Oh Delhi,
you are so full of mysteries.
On the 7th floor fire exit, you can see the
glory of this city in one place. If you look at
the expanse, I swear you can fly. From the
magnificence that is the Raisina Hill, running
along the Parliament and the tricolored
beauty of India gate. Hold on, wait for a
moment. Absorb the lights, the Grandeur
and move one.
The chilly breeze, often takes you with it to
the never ending work in progress that is
Pragati Maidan which literally translates
to “progress grounds” and to the ruins of
the Old fort, which once was the residence
of the huge empire, resonates the losses
and the gains.
The 7th floor fire exit captures the beauty
that is Delhi, but it also takes you on a
journey to the gems lost in time. If you look
around, you'll see the Jawaharlal Nehru
Stadium, sitting on the high chair, looking
down at the city. If you go a little further,
you'll find the Lotus temple.
Right there, just there, stop and think. Look
beyond the temple and you'll find yourself.
You'll see where you've reached and the
place where you started from. Delhi, you are
the reason for my suffering and the reason
for my contentment.
There are 19 million people in this city and
the 7th floor, Chamber block III is my place
of solace.
The psychedelic oranges and greens of the seventies
Brought scads of foils and flocks into homes that had been
Saturated before with flowered, and vined wall papers.
Nehru jackets, hippies, flower children, and Viet Nam soldiers
Permeated the news, saturating our breakfast newspapers.
Colored TV is exciting, but worth the extra expense? Not sure.
Children are joining communes, making new families.
Questioning their parents, their politicians, and the war.
A war which the young soldiers are not allowed to question.
Religion is losing her grip on the family.
Sex is no longer blatantly reserved for marriage.
A revolutionary time brought about on the heels of hero assassinations.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and the Kennedy boys glancing down
From their heavenly seats, wondering what is to become of us.
I wish I could say things got better….
-- January 30, Martyr's Day --
noble and martyred
wrapped in the colours they served
nation in their legacy
***
August 14, 1947
Jawaharlal Nehru stood before The Parliament - Words were spoken, recounted this century as clear as then.
“Long years ago, we made a tryst with destiny; and now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge, not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially.
At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom.
A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new -- when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance. It is fitting that at this solemn moment we take the pledge of dedication to the service of India, her people, and to the still larger cause of humanity.
The turning-point is past, and history begins anew for us, the history which we shall live and act and others will write about.”
August 15, 2017
Policemen are positioned at the borders of states.
Stars are thanked at the break of dawn - the night passed without their lives.
Embassies light up with stories of the past - They play out on facades for the holidayer in traffic.
Tiny hands wave paper flags at the rural side of the city. In the August heat, parades are viewed from terraces barefoot.
Students wear pins in a march. The sole aim ~ Giving back more than we get.
A day cannot sleep without celebration of culture:
saffron, white and green
twenty nine states on stage -
nation in their eyes
.. continuation posted
A Poem as a Tribute on Mother's Day Part 2
I was again charmed
By the singing of Koyal’s song
As the Koyal was still singing her “Kuhoo kuhoo”
In her full throated ease with her melodious sweetness
Perhaps this immortal bird is singing
Like this, since thousands and thousands of years,
Sometimes enjoying the lush green Nature
All around her and sometimes
In the company of only few trees and
some humans like me and others. 07
.
The melodious voice of the bird reminded me
My mother’s expertise in singing and
In playing the musical instrument like Harmonium and Violin
Perhaps she had developed these
To forget the pains of her life and other sufferings
Due to my father’s too much involvement in freedom struggle and
The loneliness in which she was taking care,
of my grandfather, mother and other family members
Although, all these silent sacrifices made her a unique woman of her time
Who was blessed with the simplicity of life and
her ardent love and care for her family members and her husband. 08
.
Her sacrifices for the country’s freedom struggle,
for which she had devoted many younger years of her life,
While working with Late Kamla Nehru*
And doing the work of social upliftment
To awaken and improve the dirty slums of Allahabad* around 1930’s
Made her a woman of outstanding courage and strength. 09
* Kamla Nehru was the wife of Ist Prime Minister of India
*Now Allahabad is renamed as Prayagraj as it was in 1575.
.
My late mother did many sacrifices for her country’s freedom struggle,
as a true-life partner of her husband
While working with Late Kamla Nehru* in Allahabad
She worked to light up the torch of freedom struggle,
In the hearts of illiterate and untouchable of those days
With whom no one used to talk in that era,
what to say of sitting with them,
educating them and even touching them sometimes,
when these poor people were sick
Doing all these things was almost impossible,
in the Hindu society of those days
These people for whom, she worked were in the most depilated condition,
in my country of those days of India, around 1930’s. 10
.
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpur India 12th May 2019 Please see Last two paras as concluded in Part 3
He is my role model
His life, an inspiration to me
Did some research on him
Since then am in awe of him
Empath at heart,
he dedicated his life in selfless service
Saw teeming millions without dress
Wore a simple dothi like them
Wherever he found people suffering
Took up their cause, fought for justice
Knew scriptures well, was therefore
always good in words, deeds and action
Was aware we are accounted for our karmas
Would not sin whatever may happen
Britishers beat him, jailed him
He never did tit for tat
Was against partition, knew its effects
Advised others to reject it
Power hungry politicians did not hear
Its consequences stand before us
When India gained independence
Nehru invited him to attend the ceremony
He refused saying how can I celebrate
When my brother's and sisters are suffering
During post partition communal riots
He walked bare foot all over country,
helping all, rquesting them to maintain
peace and communal harmony
He was firm in his beliefs
Practicing what he preached
All his movements like swadeshi,
abolition of untouchability,
salt satyagraha were for masses
If all became like him, nonviolent,
selfless, and worked for the
betterment of everyone around
world would become a better place to live
02.10.2021
Note: 2nd October is the birthday of Mahatma Gandhi.
Optimism pranced up and down in hip hugger bellbottoms
Joy resonated from those who wanted peace not war
Gratitude basked from the corners of those who had not been drafted
It was 1969, and we were in our youth, full of confidence.
Emotions ran high; the Viet Nam grayscales were ruining our news.
We decided to buck the old ways, and begin anew, accepting everyone
We did not adhere to the absolute musts of the fifties or sixties.
We wore love beads and Nehru jackets, and smoked pot in cities.
In our hand-embroidered blue jeans which had not been washed for days,
We hitch-hiked to the promised land of California, or to New York City.
We were full of idealistic ideas and ideals. We were the youth.
We knew more than we had ever known in 1969.
Arbitrary patterns, be it said,
Behove a poet who has nought to say:
Consider if you will, the holy dread
Descending on him when he has to play
Egregious games of lexicon and sense:
Ferocious is his hunt for weighty meaning:
Garrulousness has no innate value - hence
Hermetic references, frantic gleaning,
Intemperate allusions all too often
Juxtaposed with useful phrases in a
Kulturkampf, with memes supposed to soften
Lacunae like the way we treated Jinna,
Matriculee of Lincoln’s Inn. No joke.
Nehru, Inner Temple. Things you learn!
Our planet is a stellar artichoke,
papaveraceous, as the Medes discern.
Wordsmith's worst nightmare
fortunately thwarted courtesy
mine tall tale telling flair.
Mine irretrievable brilliant masterpiece...
all for naught after mental cogs and wheels
I did apply creative juice metaphorical grease
regarding tour de force pièce de résistance writing
forever lost to the annals of human history.
So much for escaping to paradise island
(Garden of Eden) and experiencing zen
Impossible mission to earn untold yen
concerning prosaic poem/ poetic prose titled
The old battleaxe and her henchwomen
irrecoverable linkedin to sinking feeling
hours, days, weeks... all spent for naught
dharma bum - me got doled out unfair
injustice though scoreboard (tabulating
when yours truly acted immoral) oddly even
Steven after I repented against
marital infidelities nearly cost priceless
paternal love of daughters, whereby
their father experienced
suicidal ideations thought
to drown his sorrows
overdosing on fen-phen.
A transcendent awakening
occurred within noggin of one simian
a clothed outlier caged within human zoo
predicated upon his overactive imagination
inextricably favorable ratings did woo,
albeit ephemerally savored renown, and true
value viz his great Magnus Opus,
whereby riches couped courtesy
brief brush with fame and glory
found countless people lined in queue
(and moment of morning glory
subsequently slipped
thru gnarly butter fingers
symptomatic of nervousness
exhibited courtesy an aspiring Nehru
case in point my pal Joey, a kangaroo
dear reader pardon
tardy greeting regarding helloo
cuz decided against formalities,
a nonestablishmentarian he doth eschew
no ghostly chance I merely utter boo!
Unlikely I scared
the living daylights out of you,
nor would that be intent
regarding self taught amateur
practitioner of voodoo
I rarely if ever cast spells,
nevertheless yours truly
still under probation
and peer review
so breathe easy, cuz Matthew
Scott Harris would hate
to tarnish reputation of Guru,
that charming humble fellow
he taught me wizardry.