Home » Poems » Best » Dr. Padmashree R P » Best Dr. Padmashree R P Poems

Best Poems Written by Dr. Padmashree R P

Below are the all-time best Dr. Padmashree R P poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

View ALL Dr. Padmashree R PPoems

Details | Dr. Padmashree R P Poem

A Conversation with the Dead

We steal from the mouths of strangers, 
pluck vowels like fruit from someone else's tree, 
and call it harvest. 
Call it homage.

The dead speak louder than we do,
their sentences polished smooth by a thousand tongues, 
worn into grooves we trace with our own breath.

I lift a phrase like lifting a stone from a river,
 still wet with another writer's meanings, 
and press it into the architecture of my own grief.

"To the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure.”

But whose mind? 
Whose death? 
The words belong to everyone now, 
to no one, a key passed hand to hand until the metal warms, 
until we forget who first turned the lock.

Perhaps all poetry is borrowed,
each word a ghost we summon, 
each line a seance where the living learn to speak 
in the voices of those who wrote the world before us.

Details | Dr. Padmashree R P Poem

Blooming Verses

I am the poet of the garden, hear my song
My petals are pages where verses belong
Rooted in the earth, yet reaching for the sky
I write my story as days and seasons fly

My first draft sprouts, a tender green shoot
Pushing through the soil, finding my root
Each leaf unfurls, a stanza takes the form
Braving the elements, defying the norm

Sun is my muse, rain my ink
I compose in colours you can't even think
Bees are my critics, buzzing review
Carrying my words to gardens anew

I bloom in metaphors of vibrant hue
Similes as sweet as morning dew
My fragrance, a rhythm that floats on the breeze
Alliteration in the whisper of leaves

Short maybe my time under the sun
But in this brief life, volumes are spun
Each day a revision, each night an edit
Till my final draft stands, and I'm proud of it

I face my mortality with every line
Knowing my words will wilt in time
But fear not for me, for in my seeds
Lie sequels and stories for future reads

So pause by my stem, inhale my prose
For I'm more than just a pretty rose
I'm a writer whose work is never done
Till the last petal falls, and my tale is spun

In the cycle of nature, I'll write once more
Rising again from the garden floor
For a flower's life is but a book
Endlessly rewritten, if you know where to look

Details | Dr. Padmashree R P Poem

A River Runs Through Us

Like a river that carves its way,  
The language flows; learning starts each day.  
Babbles of sound, first words take flight,  
A gurgling stream, bathed in morning's light.
 
Sentences grow as tributaries join,  
Grammar's banks keep the flow in line.  
Meanings unfold, a widening delta vast,  
Understanding deepens, and knowledge is amassed.
 
Tiny word parts, pebbles smooth and round,  
Building blocks strong, on fertile ground.  
Culture's whispers carried on the breeze,  
Accents and slang, like rustling leaves.
 
Like a river, language never moves,  
Old words fade, while new vocabulary grooves.  
Technology's dam gathers knowledge vast,  
Analyzing speech, holding the past.
 
Sounds have their rhythm, like rapids so clear,  
Writing captures them, year after year.  
Machines mimic, bridging the spoken word,  
Translation's bridge, for all to be heard.
 
From villages nestled to cities so grand,  
Linguists like guardians, on shifting sand.  
Preserving tongues, endangered and frail,  
Languages flow a timeless tale.
 
Brain pathways formed, like a river's bed,  
How we understand, in our minds are bred.  
Theories explored, from every nation's shore,  
Human expression, forever.
 
A river of language, forever it runs,  
Learning and speaking, under life's setting suns.

Details | Dr. Padmashree R P Poem

A Mother's Guiding Light

In an Indian home, at break of day,
It is a tender scene, in a timeless way.
A mother's love, a daughter's quest,
In this morning light, they're truly blessed.

On the floor, their space is shared,
With books and notes, they're both prepared.
The young girl's eyes, so full of grace,
Locked onto her mother's wise embrace.

A quiet room, the sun's soft kiss,
Illuminating this scene of bliss.
A mother's touch, her gaze so warm,
Nurturing dreams in every form.

In cotton sarees, simple and neat,
They sit together, love's heartbeat.
With homemade books and stationery,
They craft their educational journey.

With every word and lesson shared,
The mother's wisdom, tenderness, and care.
In this modest abode, they find their way,
Learning and growing, day by day.

A snapshot of a time, now past,
A mother's love, forever to last.
In rural India's tranquil embrace,
She becomes her daughter's first embrace.

Through the window, sunlight streams,
A symbol of hope, of shared dreams.
A mother's role, both profound and true,
Guiding her child, helping her through.

In humble means, they find their way,
With love and learning, come what may.
This mother's lesson, from her heart,
This is where a child's education truly starts.

As time moves on and years go by,
The bond they share will touch the sky.
In this Indian home, a story unfolds,
A mother's love, forever told.

From basics to values, life's every part,
Taught by her mother, with all her heart.
A daughter's future, set aglow,
By a mother's passion, love, and flow.

So, let us cherish this sacred role,
A mother's teaching, her lifelong goal.
For in her lap, a world takes flight,
Where a mother's love ignites the light.

Details | Dr. Padmashree R P Poem

Labourer's Hand

Calloused canvas, etched with sun and rain,
A map of toil, where muscles speak their pain.
No crown adorns it, nor scepter's gilded shine,
But in its grip, a legacy entwines.

Not pharaohs' monuments, nor empires vast,
But fields that nourish, homes that rise at last.
Bricks laid true, with sweat for mortar's hold,
A city's pulse, in stories yet untold.

No artist's brush, nor poet's lyric grace,
But hammers tapping, leaving their own trace.
Steel forged and shaped, with fire's ardent kiss,
A symphony of sparks, where dreams don't miss.

Not ruler's scepter, nor scholar's quill,
But thread spun fine, with patient, practiced skill.
Garments woven, warmth against the cold,
A mother's love, in stitches neatly told.

No warrior's blade, nor priest's anointed hand,
But seeds that sprout, at farmer's wise command.
Land nurtured, yielding life anew,
A cycle's dance, beneath a sky so blue.

No sculptor's chisel, nor architect's grand plan,
But tools that mend, held by a steady hand.
Machines repaired, with rhythmic, whirring hum,
A world kept turning, never truly numb.

Not surgeon's scalpel, nor teacher's guiding pen,
But streets swept clean, where children play again.
Invisible threads, that bind a community,
A hand unseen, yet vital, you can see.

So raise your gaze, beyond the gilded frame,
To hands that build, the ones without a name.
For in their toil, a nation's spirit thrives,
A tapestry of labour, where humanity survives.

Details | Dr. Padmashree R P Poem

The Noise of Pretence

In a space that should hum with focus,
Where thoughts flow like ink on paper,
I walk the halls, and what do I hear?
The clatter of egos—loud, brash,
A symphony of insecurity,
Each voice a drum pounding louder,
Drowning out the quiet rhythm of real productivity.

Oh, the harshness of noise!
Your chatter like chainsaws,
Hacking away the sweet silence,
The sanctuary where ideas bloom.
Conversations compete like wild animals,
Roaring for attention,
But who’s listening?
Who's doing it?

I can’t hear my thoughts,
Lost beneath the weight of your bravado,
Your anecdotes, your grand proclamations,
About deadlines, met and spreadsheets conquered,
But all I see is the façade,
The show of work,
Not the act of working.

It’s an orchestra of distraction,
A cacophony of competition,
Where silence is a crime,
And whispers are for the weak.
But listen!
True strength speaks softly,
In the space between breaths,
In the echo of contemplation.

But here you are,
Standing tall, voice raised,
As if volume equates to value
As if the loudest in the room
It is the most productive.
It’s a mask you wear,
But I see behind it—
Just shadows, just noise,
Just the harshness of insecurities masked as power.

We chase the clock,
Tapping away, thinking,
We’re winning some races,
But it's not a marathon,
It’s a serenade,
A melody of purpose,
And you’re just playing the wrong tune.

So, let’s pause.
Lower the volume,
Tune down the tumult,
And Let the silence reign
In this kingdom of commerce.
Let whispers be the wings of ideas,
Let the quiet be our battle cry,
For in the stillness, we create,
In the calm, we conquer—
Let’s reclaim the space
From the harshness of noise.  

Let’s work with purpose,
Let’s make a change—
Because the loudest voice
It doesn't always win,
Sometimes it’s the softest,
The most profound,
That ignites the fire
Of true creation.

Details | Dr. Padmashree R P Poem

Utopia Rising

Listen up, y'all! I've got a vision to share
Of a world where corruption doesn't dare
To rear its ugly head or show its face
Where justice and fairness set the pace

Imagine a place where bribes are extinct
Where honest work is the only link
To success and progress, can you see it?
A society where truth ain't something we cheat

In this world, the powerful serve the weak
Transparency ain't just some politicians speak
It's the air we breathe, the water we drink
The foundation on which we build and think

Creativity explodes when fairness reigns
Innovation bursts from unfettered brains
No more holding back, no more fear
Of speaking truth to those who should hear

Education blooms like wildflowers in spring
Knowledge is power and everyone's king
Science advances, art transcends
In a world where corruption meets its end

Meritocracy's not just a fancy word
It's lived every day, seen and heard
From the streets to the highest office
Where leaders serve, not harvest profits

Picture courts where Lady Justice ain't blind
But sees clearly with an impartial mind
Where the scales tip only with the weight of truth
Not the size of the wallet, you feel me, youth?

In this brave new world, we've broken the chain
Of systemic oppression, of ill-gotten gain
Every voice matters, and every dream can soar
In a society that's fair to its very core

Businesses thrive on innovation, not manipulation
The government serves the people, not some corporation
The media speaks truth, unafraid and bold
A new age of enlightenment, a story untold

But this ain't no fairy tale, no pipe dream
It's a future we can build, a possible regime
It starts with you, with me, with all of us
Standing up for what's right, creating trust

So let's rise, let's make it real
This corrupt-free world, it's our ideal
Where justice flows like a mighty river
And fairness is a gift we all deliver

From the ashes of greed, watch creativity rise
A phoenix of progress, touching the skies
This is our time, our moment to shine
In a world where justice and fairness align!

Let's build this utopia, brick by brick
Where corruption's absence makes innovation tick
A creative society, fair and just
In our hands, in our hearts, in our trust!

Details | Dr. Padmashree R P Poem

Grief

First, understand that sorrow is a room
with no furniture, only echoes.
Every word you speak will return to you
slightly changed, 
like a photograph left in sunlight.

Learn to sit still in emptiness.
Your body will protest,
it was built for movement, 
for purpose, 
for the illusion
of progress.
Ignore it. Stay.

Notice how grief has weight but no shape,
how it fills the spaces between your ribs
like water, 
how it makes you both
heavier and more likely to float away.

Do not rush to redecorate the room.
People will offer you curtains, rugs,
paintings to cover the walls.
They mean well. 
Refuse them gently.

The emptiness is not a problem to solve
but a truth to inhabit. 
Sit with it.
Let it teach you the grammar of loss,
the syntax of what remains.

Eventually, and I cannot tell you when
you will notice a door you hadn't seen,
not an exit but an entrance,
leading somewhere you've never been.

You will hesitate at the threshold,
understanding that moving forward
means leaving something precious behind.
This is correct. 
Step through anyway.

The room will always be there,
that echo chamber of what was.
You can visit whenever you need to,
but you no longer have to live there.

Details | Dr. Padmashree R P Poem

The Elephant's Grandeur

Where sun-kissed savannahs endlessly sweep,
And acacia crowns the skies, a verdant keep,
A titan walks, with earth-shaking tread,
A monument of grace, with wisdom bred.

Oh, Elephant, colossal and wise,
Your eyes, like embers, gleam beneath the skies.
Your ivory tusks, like sun-bleached spears,
Pierce the heavens, dispelling all our fears.

Through emerald depths, you silently stride,
A living fortress, with nature as your guide.
Your trunk, a trumpet, blasts a rhythmic call,
Echoing through valleys, grand and tall.

With a gentle touch, you pluck a leafy prize,
Nourishing your form, beneath the sunlit skies.
Matriarch wise, with love unbound,
You lead your herd, on sacred, ancient ground.

Oh, Elephant, guardian of the plains,
Your ears, like maps, etched with wisdom's gains.
You listen to the whispers of the earth,
Guiding your steps, is a testament to your worth.

But shadows lurk, a darkness cast afar,
Where greed and folly wage a callous war.
Forests recede, and poachers stalk the night,
Threatening your future, with a consuming blight.

Let us stand tall, and raise a voice so strong,
To shield these giants, where they rightfully belong.
For in their presence, we find our guiding light,
A mirror to our soul, a future ever bright.

So let us cherish them, these titans of the land,
Protecting their haven, with a caring hand.
For in their grandeur, a truth we come to see,
Respect for all creatures, eternally.

Oh, Elephant, may you forever roam,
In lands untamed, your true and sacred home.
A timeless emblem, of strength and majesty,
Forever etched, in Earth's tapestry.

Details | Dr. Padmashree R P Poem

Hearts Like Flowers

Out of the crack, a life did rise, 
A fragile bloom beneath the skies. 
No gentle rain, no nurturing hand, 
Just broken stones, a barren land.

But still, it fought, it clawed its way, 
Toward the sun, it longed for day. 
A tiny shoot, a will to grow,
A heart that hope would never forgo.

Like fragile souls, with spirits strong, 
Who weather hardship all life long. 
Though lost and lonely, cast aside,
Their dreams still bloom, a source of pride.

So let them rise, these broken hearts, 
And find their strength in scattered parts.
For even roses, cracked and torn, 
Can fill the world with beauty, born.

Best Poems Written by Dr. Padmashree R P

A Conversation with the Dead

Blooming Verses

A River Runs Through Us

A Mother's Guiding Light

Labourer's Hand

The Noise of Pretence

Utopia Rising

Grief

The Elephant's Grandeur

Hearts Like Flowers

Member Area

Soup Social

Member Poems

Member Poets

Famous Poems

Famous Poets

Poetry Resources