Honour The Womenfolk
King Ravana stole Sita from the jungle
to take revenge for the insult
brought about to his sister;
but in molesting her he did bungle.
And Valmiki had a story for an epic.
The invaders on India for her gold,
had a kick towards the wives of kings
who were defeated or killed in the wars.
They coveted and drove them to their harem.
No Muslim poet wrote any epic to adore them.
Ravana is worshipped as a god
still in some rural parts of North India.
The Muslim men in Ladakh and elsewhere
love the girls of other cults, convert,
marry them to add to their list of wives.
They could not be heroes of even ditties.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Love is not rational
The loved one does not love me back;
The loving one does not get my love.
Who you love and who loves you
Aren’t one and the same person.
I’m dear to my mother and
My daughter is dear to me.
Mandothari loved Ravana
And Ravana was mad of Seeta.
The real love is neither mutual
Nor reciprocal nor conditional.
Love is not rational; but instinctual.
28.07.2009
[The characters are from the epic, Ramayana.
Mandothari was in ardent love for her husband King Ravana, who was mad of Sita, wife of Prince Rama]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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India
India, India, India
India, India, clarified butter from the holy cow
India, India, India
I'm a pauper bereft of spiritual vision
Looking for a guru such a decision
India, India, India
Clarified butter from the holy cow
India, India, India
I'm a conscious consumer
but there's nothing to consume
Lotus flowers are still in bloom in
India, India, India
India, India, clarified butter from the holy cow
India, India, India
India, India
India, India
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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India What Will You Teach This World?
India a continent old trade vast
India rich in philosophy religions
India steeped in ancient traditions
India a wealth of diverse cultures
India wisdom weeps crosses centuries
India you are supposed to be proud
India you are supposed to share
India your heritage with lost world
India you are supposed to share
Wisdom a covet west has forsaken
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Indian culture is the best like gold
Indian culture is the best like gold
India hath need of cultured men,
A gun or bomb may convert into a pen,
Educated men have a royal hold,
All women must be literate and bold,
And all dress as per their religions,
Way of living depends upon their regions,
Old is gold as we have been told,
And we all live with our fore – fathers!
But we think as lucky and blessed,
For humanity sake we help to others,
As the citizens of India we are addressed,
So as all the states are our brothers,
In the golden words Indian culture is expressed.
Mazid-s-Kazi
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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And now may the blessing of God rest upon all men. I have told unto them the Epic of Kings, and the Epic of Kings is come to a close, and the tale of their deeds is ended.
I, therefore, demand the formation of a consolidated Muslim State in the best interest of India and Islam.
quote by Muhammad Iqbal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Honesty verses loyalty
Loyalty is being honest to a person;
Honesty is being loyal to a cause.
Loyalty is being faithful
And honesty, being virtuous.
Kumbakarna was loyal;
Vibhishna was honest.
The world is run by loyalty
Rather than by honesty.
07.09.2009
[Kumbakarna and Vibhishna are yonger brothers of King Ravana in the Hindu epic Ramayana.]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where are the Muslim people's sponsors? Where are its kings? Where are its leaders? The Muslim people is calling upon you, Jerusalem is appealing to you, will anyone answer?
quote by Ahmed Yassin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Singing Idol (Yusuf Islam)
He was a star
A rockstar
He was Cat Stevens
A famous popstar
Now he's a Muslim
Still a star
A star who brings shine to Islam
A muslim's hope
Still a singer
Music in his mind
Melody in his heart
Shine in his eyes
A Muslim singer
Yusuf Islam is the name
Has a Muslim family
And a happy life
poem by Sarah Ally
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Who Is A Muslim?
A Muslim’s heart is softer than wool
He is so kind you’d take him for a fool
Yet he will forgive you with his wool’d heart
And ask Allah to guide you on the right path
A Muslim would pray as much as he could
As if worship and prayer were his only food
His eyes would water when the Qur'an is read
And he would praise Allah when he goes to bed
A Muslim’s first love is never a woman
But his Lord the Creator who created man
A Muslim’s mentor is not someone that sings
But the humble and Holy Prophet of Islam
Whom upon is Allah’s peace and blessings
For the Muslim the world is like a cage
And he knows patience it all it takes
And not disobedience and utter rage
A Muslim knows that this world is fake
Thus he makes preparation for the eternal world
Which is earned by the worship of only one God
To follow his prophet and make less profit
To do good deeds and make prayer a habit
A Muslim is of surety a true human gem.
And like a gem itself, he is hard to find
For it is not just a word or a mere name
but a term whose meaning is one of a kind
poem by Ahmad Savage
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The Muslim world, with its history and cultures, and indeed its different interpretations of Islam, is still little known in the West… The two worlds, Muslim and non-Muslim, Eastern and Western, must, as a matter of urgency, make a real effort to get to know one another, for I fear that what we have is not a clash of civilisations, but a clash of ignorance on both sides.
quote by Aga Khan IV
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Recital Of The Ramayana
When the silent night was ended, and their pure ablutions done,
Joyous went the minstrel brothers, and their lofty lay begun,
Rama to the hermit minstrels lent a monarch's willing car,
Blended with the simple music dulcet was the lay to hear,
And so sweet the chanted accents, Rama's inmost soul was stirred,
With his royal guests and courtiers still the deathless lay he heard!
Heralds versed in old Puranas, Brahmans skilled in pious rite,
Minstrels deep in lore of music, poets fired by heavenly might,
Watchers of the constellations, min'sters of the festive day,
Men of science and of logic, bards who sang the ancient lay,
Painters skilled and merry dancers who the festive joy prolong
Hushed and silent in their wonder listed to the wondrous song!
And as poured the flood of music through the bright and livelong day,
Eyes and ears and hearts insatiate drank the nectar of the lay,
And the eager people whispered: 'See the boys, how like our king
As two drops of limpid water from the parent bubble spring!
Were the boys no hermit-children, in the hermit's garments clad,
We would deem them Rama's image,-Rama as a youthful lad!'
Twenty cantos of the Epic thus the youthful minstrels sung,
And the voice of stringéd music through the Epic rolled along,
Out spake Rama in his wonder: 'Scarce I know who these may be,
Eighteen thousand golden pieces be the children-minstrels' fee!'
'Not so,' answered thus the children, 'we in darksome forests dwell,
Gold and silver, bounteous monarch, forest life beseem not well!'
'Noble children!' uttered Rama, 'dear to me the words you say,
Tell me who composed this Epic,-Father of this deathless Lay?'
'Saint Valmiki,' spake the minstrels, 'framed the great immortal song
Four and twenty thousand verses to this noble Lay belong,
Untold tales of deathless virtue sanctify his sacred line,
And five hundred glorious cantos in this glorious Epic shine,
In six Books of mighty splendour was the poet's task begun,
With a seventh Book, supplemental is the poet's labour done,
All thy matchless deeds, O monarch, in this Lay will brighter shine,
List to us from first to ending if thy royal heart incline!'
'Be it so,' thus Rama answered, but the hours of day were o'er,
And Valmiki's youthful pupils to their cottage came once more.
Rama with his guests and courtiers slowly left the royal hall,
Eager was his heart to listen, eager were the monarchs all,
And the voice of song and music thus was lifted day to day,
And from day to day they listened to Valmiki's deathless Lay!
Vedic Conversion
The Veda is sacred; its hymens are sacred.
The Veda is holy; its hymns are holy.
We were told to toe; we were led to toe.
The nomadic tribe has brought it with them.
Buddhism was banished; Jainism vanished.
Natives were driven; Dravidians subverted.
It is the Aryans who conquered the continent.
It is the Aryans who remodelled its culture.
Success in war, stealing of cattle,
Love making, illogical rituals,
No moral codes, no benevolent deeds-
These are all the Vada speaks out
Manu codified Varnasrama Dharma.
Manu glorified kings and their style.
Manu crucified women’s interests.
Manu stupefied Sudhras and Dalits.
The Ramayana, an epic, lofted Rama
To a God Incarnation, who killed
Ravana, a Shiva devoee, thus holding
The supremacy of Aryans and Rama.
The Mahabharata tells godliness of Krishna,
Whose crafts in strategy of war
Belies his Geetha’s teachings of doing
Duties with detachment for the end.
Aryan revivalism rears its head.
They are out to eradicate gods
Other than their Rama and Krishna.
They want to make flourish
The Brahmin’s superiority and nobility
Over all indigenous Gods and culture.
11.10.2000
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O Singer of the epic war history
O Singer of the epic war history,
O Singer of life, of liberation hoary,
Of brazen battlefields, long desolate,
O Singer of Gita's ageless glory.
Outlived hast the song thine endless story,
Though war heroes survive still in state,
Frustrated of fate but scarce sorry,
O Singer of the epic war history.
Yudhishthir's dharma, Arjun's archery,
Bheeshma's oath, Bhima's bravery,
Scarce confined remain to Pearly Gate,
And sung are with Gita's ageless glory.
And ye O bard, two roles in one carry:
Of poet laureate and progenitor great,
O ye born in a river ferry,
O Singer of the epic war history
Ye sang thine epic in such swell flurry,
Ganesha, if not quite inadequate,
Lost in thought, felt somewhat weary,
O Singer of ancient ageless glory,
Not mine ‘lone, any pen-pusher's worry
‘Tis to try even to translate,
O Singer of the epic war history,
O Singer of ancient ageless glory.
_______________________________________ __
This is a Villanelle a bit way out. The tercet,
that normally becomes a quatrain only in the last
stanza, is here so in all. Also, the first and the third
lines of the first stanza are repeated with some
modifications.
_____________________________________________ ______
- Villanelle | 02.10.11 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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With several different kinds of poetry to choose from, a man would decide that he would like best to be an epic poet, and he would set out, in conscious determination, on an epic poem.
quote by Lascelles Abercrombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The epic poet has behind him a tradition of matter and a tradition of style; and that is what every other poet has behind him too; only, for the epic poet, tradition is rather narrower, rather more strictly compelling.
quote by Lascelles Abercrombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Love My India
La la……la la… lalallala……..
Lala……lala……lallalalaa…
I love my Papa,
I love my Mama,
But most of all,
I love My India
I love my Papa,
I love my Mama,
But most of all,
I love My India
I love my teachers,
I love my friends,
But most of all,
I love my brother.
I love my Papa,
I love my Mama,
But most of all,
I love My India
I love my books
I love my plays
But most of all,
I love my cycle
I love my Papa,
I love my Mama,
But most of all,
I love My India
I love my country
I love my brothers
I love my sisters
But most of all,
I love my family
I love my Papa,
I love my Mama,
But most of all,
I love My India
I love my India aaaa
Aaaa ho ho ho
Thank you
poem by I.p. Gopikrishnan Pisharody
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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India- The paradise on Earth
India is the paradise on earth
I admire you the beauty of nature,
As you have created such beautiful creatures
The beautiful sight, the aromatic flowers,
The magnificent animals, and the colourful birds,
To give us courage, will and guts.
Our culture is the most popular one in the world
Every creature in this world appreciate India's culture.
Many foreigners come to India to marry, celebrate festivals
In the small villages, cities and towns.
They never forget it till they wear life's crown
Because India is the paradise on Earth.
Many Gods and Goddesses have incarnated in every eras in India
To rescue the world from destruction
He has fought and taken action
To destroy the destroyer
And to end the danger.
The people of India has made temples in the memory of unforgotable ancestors.
When the visitors visit those famous shrines,
They wash out all their crimes
Because India is the paradise on Earth.
poem by Akash Agrawal
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I Shall Weep Tears For Them
when your son
or daughter
lines up to enlist
join the military
to fight in foreign
wars America’s
Muslim Wars
in target countries
I will not judge
all suffering death pain
inflicted on sovereign
soil democracy invades
when their sons daughters
are killed as wars drone on
I shall weep tears for them
when your sons daughters
are killed as foreign invaders
I shall weep tears for them
I cannot judge right
I cannot judge wrong
I cannot stomach lies
politics is guilty
of invasion crimes
against humanity
Afghanistan Iraq invasions
Pakistan incursions drone attacks
Libya sorties rebel alliances
I cry for their children
I cry for your children
blood is on so many hands
as innocence is bath drowned
in aircraft carriers of steam blood
pornography elite power rapes
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Epic Smile
Time slows;
then stops.
You have an epic smile,
shining brightly to challenge the sun.
You laugh with your soul,
eyes sparkling in the light.
You have an epic smile,
one I will never forget.
My heart leaps at your voice,
a smile shattering the gloom of life.
You have an epic smile,
brighter than a thousand suns.
I will think of you often,
though truthfully I already do.
You have an epic smile, my muse,
one that will always be with me.
poem by Brian Hinckley
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