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I was born as a chaste Hindu
And hated its watertight caste system
The rigid ritualistic custom
I became a cosmopolitan Christian

The Christianity always discussed forgiveness
I did not have that much greatness
I was fed up with its teachings of kindness
I converted my self into a Muslim

I grew a long beard and traveled in a costly car
And believed in the inspiring holy war
The police put me into a huge prison
The best place for my enlightened vision

Which God would save me from this cell?
I did not know if I would go to heaven or hell
The only thing I could do was to yell
Into a bottomless pit did I eventually fell?
Only for the child does exist the school
Forgetting this, a teacher becomes a fool
He should always be very cool
And should never try autocratically to rule

A child is not a blank paper
He is the knowledge creator
And he/she is not an empty slate
But he/she is incredibly great

A teacher should never underestimate the child
And never believe his behaviour is so wild
A child is not an insignificant creature
He has got an inestimable bright future

Learning doesn’t happen by mere teaching
It happens by observing, experimenting
Meaning making, exploring and experiencing
A teacher shouldn’t resort to child’s fault finding

The frequency of the teacher and the taught must be the same
Then the teacher gets an unbelievable name and fame
The difference between teaching and learning gets lost
The language construction and knowledge creation becomes so vast
Once you were a twittering butterfly
And seduced many other insects
With your beautiful wings
And sweet sayings

The insects knew you   were a caterpillar
And a shameful lie teller and disgraceful yeller
You changed your colour and proud of your valour
You seem to be a chameleon and went into oblivion

You became an owl and speaks like a fowl
And didn’t change your impious soul
You were devoid of  any worthy goal
And thought that every other bird was a fool

You have became a saintly crane
And standing on  a single foot
To you life seems to be a circus feat
Every creature knows that you are a great cheat
There are three ways to reach the All-Mighty
Knowledge, devotion and disinterested duty
Knowledge is infinite
but Man’s vision is only finite

If man honestly performs his duty
It is undoubtedly a great beauty
But there are many hurdles
Which make him leave the ideals

Only devotion seems to be the easiest
It may be Rama, Allah or Jesus Christ
You need not be a great scholar
And need not be a wonderful performer

You will reach God through a devotional prayer
But you should unveil the illusionary layer
Only philosophy and God seem to the ultimate truth
Although it may not appeal greatly to an atheist and the youth
Seven days ago I went to my coconut farm

And saw a fairy in her beautiful form

She was like a real dame

I followed her without any shame

I was bewitched by her teasing smile

And I set aside my reading file

I forgot my scholarship and wisdom for a while

And was fooled for her style

She led me to her unknown land

I caught her tender hand

We lay on the soft  sand

I thought she was a pure miss

And longed for her hot kiss

Our love game was very grand

I thought As if I were in heaven

With her I spent days seven

The last day I had a bad dream

A demon shook my left arm

I was in hospital bed

The doctor was testing my blood

My heart trembled like a swift flood

I paid the penalty for my fraud

I became very sad

Because I got the punishment from God
The stars come down to earth

On a special plight

To make our lives bright

For kids inexpressible delight

The earth becomes the sky

Our imagination soars very high

The light drives out darkness

As knowledge does ignorance

Even the angels enjoy this night

holding the kids so tight

The moon claps with a shout

even terrorists stops their fight

All religions love light

It is the heavenly sight

May light dawn in our heart!

Loving people is the greatest art
A kind word is
A beautiful bird
It  travels
All over the
And fly
As high
As the sky
And touches
Every heart
And the source of
Any art
A monk was concentrating upon God
In front of a vamp’s house
Whenever a visitor came
He would pick up a stone and threw it

Years rolled on and the stones piled up
The monk became old and the vamp sick
There was a huge heap of stones
The monk would look at it in surprise

The dooms day arrived
The monk was sent to hell
And the vamp to heaven
What a Paradoxical judgement!

The monk asked God
“Why did you send me to hell
And  the vamp to heaven”?
God replied,” you concentrated on her fraud
But she concentrated on God.
She dedicated her soul to me
And only her body to the visitors”
Once a monk lived in a village
A bird excreted on his head
For his fury it fell dead
The monk felt very sad

He went to a house for food
The wife was at her husband’s bed
The monk cried for many a time
The woman came after some time

The sage looked at her with a great rage
She said, ”I am not a bird to be burnt
by your fury. For a wife her husband
is the best jury”. He begged her pardon

She advised the sage to meet
a righteous man at a certain place
The monk was taken aback to  see his face
He was only an ignorant butcher

The butcher said to the monk
“My profession is to sell meat
Which even for my feast I don’t eat
One should do one’s duty”

The monk had a great revelation
Which he hadn’t in a hundred years’ meditation
He learnt to control his angry emotion
And blessed the woman for his salvation
An old man clad in orthodox Indian Attire
Entered my bed room. His Pure and white
Dhoti was steeped in blood.
I asked him who he was. He said, ‘I won
Independence for you and Like Jesus
I shed holy blood to purify the Indians”
I asked him the reason for his coming
He said, “I want to establish a political party’
I said, “Your party and you will utterly be defeated”
He asked,” Do Indians forget my sacrifices and me”
“No. We have great respect for you and we remember
You in national festivals and in elections”
But we will not like you to come to power”
Why? He quite surprisingly asked.
“You always plead for truth, non-violence and honesty
And fight against liquor and corruption.
The Indians are really fed up with your principles.
Even your staunchest disciples will not vote for you”
I said and the vision disappeared most dejectedly.
I woke up from my dream wondering where
He had gone .I felt very sorry for the old man
writing a nonsensical poem
a praiseful
Drona was a great teacher of archery
He taught it to Pandavas and kauravas
Arjuna was his  favourite disciple
He liked him for his pious principle

Drona promised to make him the best
In any form of archery test
One day A tribal came to Drona
And requested him to teach the craft

The master asked him for his caste
The tribal revealed the fact
Drona told him he would teach only the upper-caste
And leave the place in great haste

The Tribal,Ekalavya, Made an idol of his master
And became an invincible archer
Drona and Arjuna came to the forest
The former considered the tribal was the best

Drona asked for the tribal’s  master
And surprised to find the answer
And demanded his right thumb as a gift
Ekalavya offered it as a token of great respect
The story is taken from the Indian classic, THE MAHABHARATHA
An unknown poet lives in a village
HELLO POETRYhas become his only adage
He lives with his mother
From her womb he came one day
And also lives with his wife
Into his womb he goes every day
He had two lovely daughters
They are as pure as rain waters
His wife loves him
But hates his mother
His mother too loves him
But hates his wife
They look two poles apart
And for his autobiography became the plot
When his children were younger
They loved their grand mother
But they now love their own mother
These happenings silently the poet has to bother
When there is a quarrel between the two
The poet says ”much might be said on both sides”
Because he can not take any sides
The poet’s wife wishes for his mother’s death
But his mother does not want to leave this earth
Only God should show the poet the right path
Oh !God, let my heart be crystal clear
Free it from any kind of fear
Let it fly like a dove
And have the mercy even the foes to love

Let my brain be a computer chip
my imagination to climb the highest cliff
let my mind have many a door
through which many creative ideas pour

Let my soul be as pure as butter
Even the lightest sin makes it flutter
Let me freed from the narrow domestic walls
And let me travel on broad humanitarian halls

I am worried about my non-conscious falls
Only you can save me from my pit falls
You are really my breath and soul
Without your blessings I can never be the whole
The sun sends his gorgeous light
A poet gives us inestimable delight
The sun brightens the world with his glorious rays
And the poet illuminates it with his poetic ways

The sun sometimes hides him self in the cloud
And the poet at gloomy times in the crowd
The eclipse may darken the sun for a while
And the society may subject the poet for a trial

The sun gives us necessary heat
And the poet makes his/her aesthetic feat
The sun is the life giver for the universe
The poet is the truth lover with his/her verse

The poet can view
Where the sun has no clue
I worship the sun god
And adore the poetic lord
Can a poet write a poem
For the sake writing a poem?
I think he will certainly can
But it becomes mere fun

A poet needs to be emotionally touched
His creativity is incredibly recharged
A beautiful poem is instantly released
And the reader is immeasurably pleased

Unless something touches his heart
There can be no creation of everlasting art
Spontaneous overflow of emotions is poet’s natural part
It makes his poems immensely smart

A poet can't always write at his best
He needs to pass the readers' test
If jaded, he needs considerable rest
His poem becomes  the seeting sun in the west
A war is
a Red scar
written  with  blood
a piece of
white paper
Looking at the sky at night is a beauty
It should be every poet’s eternal duty
I believe in the law of relativity
Because what we see is not absolute reality
What you perceive is not the real view
Your very eyes will betray you
The earth looks standing
And the sun appears moving
The sun looks traveling from east to west
Because the earth is rotating at its fastest
The sun seems to be bigger
The star appears very smaller
Now you look at the star
Which may not be there
Even for the greatest scientist
The universe poses a puzzling test
On the vastness of this gigantic universe
Only a poet can write many a beautiful verse
A true friend adds meaning to your life
A man may not have a wife
But without a friend his life is mere strife
Loneliness is a double edged knife

A woman may not have a husband
But a friend is a must on this land
He/she lends his/her helping hand
Without a friend her life is as wasteful as sand

A friend shares our joy
Our heart becomes as light as a toy
A true friend shares our grief
The suffering becomes very brief

Tell me your friend, I will tell what you are
A friend should be a shining star
He will give us light
And makes our lives bright

Why don’t you choose a nice friend?
Your boredom will soon end
Friendship is a beautiful flower
It is the gift of our life giver

A friend should be our life’s cream
He/she should be a part of our team
Life is just like a game
Losing it sometimes is not a shame

A friend relieves your gloom
He/she makes your life bloom
Our life is a beautiful dream
We should make it a running stream
We celebrate 5th September as teachers’ day

Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan was born on this very day

He showed the Indian nation the right way

His debt how can we repay?

He is a universal teacher

And a man of inimitable stature

Wisdom and simplicity are the hallmarks of his feature

Incomparable oration is his nature

He rose to the nation’s highest post

And tried to build a bridge between east and west

His philosophical teachings are the best

And his knowledge of English is very vast

He is Plato’s philosopher king

As President honour and dignity did he bring

He brought religion a new meaning

His glory and greatness I would like to sing

Yours sincerely,


A tiny stone creates
a lot of ripples
on calm waters
as a word of spate
causes turbulent
in the heart
of a pure man
A drop of poison
spoils the bowl
of manna
like a wrong note
discords the symphony
of an enthralling orchestra
Man can be a wonderful priest
Or he may turn into a cruel beast
It depends on his chosen feast
He crucified even Jesus Christ

Sometimes he thinks like a god
At times he becomes the greatest fraud
He may be the lord on earth
But he will never escape from his death

He miraculously entered space
But he kills most heinously his own race
Shakespeare adored man for his grace
Even the minutest bacteria he can trace

Man always suffer from his original sin
He often thinks of his kith and kin
He might have reached the moon
Even may get to the unreachable sun soon

He will never conquer nature
And know about his own future
He should  know God’s ever lasting feature
And have unshakable faith in His  delightful stature
There are three important stages
in the life of a man or woman.
Birth, marriage and death.
We do not know about our birth and death
But we enjoy and celebrate our marriage
It may be celebrated in different ways
in different cultures across the globe.
It brings happiness and joy not only
to the bride and the bridegroom
but everybody sitting in the betrothal room

A man and a woman become perfect
only after marriage in any age
The bride sits like a queen
in the Indian palanquin
And the bride groom waits for her
like the spring for the koel.
Marriage is not only to unite two bodies
but to ignite two souls.
The happiest occasion for a woman
or a man is when he/she becomes
a mother and a father.
when the child plays with a toy
the father gets inexpressible joy
and the mother feels like the HELEN OF TROY
No country’s history makes us proud.
It is mere exploitation and colonization.
the poor were suppressed and oppressed.
The rich reveled in utmost luxury
And the weak lived in extreme penury.
The kings were fond of eulogy
And the poets excelled themselves in their elegy.

In the countries like India, the money was looted
the temples were plundered, and the system was blundered
And her progress was greatly hindered
Slowly the kings and kingdoms vanished
the so called democracies and socialism flourished
the bureaucracy and plutocracy  replaced autocracy
Corruption and criminality maintained their status quo

After Independence, a new class emerged in India.
They became the rulers in the name of democracy.
There have been un-imaginable scandals
Money reached the Swiss bank like pearls in the ocean
India is a poor country but the Indians are rich
You were the architect of the nation
And loved it with great passion
You flew the eternal dove
For your inimitable greatness I bow

You were the true disciple of Bapuji
And dearly called chachaji
You were an Arjuna
In the war of independence

You loved the dear kids
And treated them as tender buds
You wore a rose in your button hole
Elevating India is your noble goal

We fulfill your beautiful dream
And follow your spiritual cream
We love our children
As they are our true vision
HELLO POETRY is the best poetic site in the world
It allows the poets to disseminate their magical word
Which flies like an ever flying and everlasting bird
Whose beautiful and delightful wings does it spread

Camille Frick is a linguistic wonder
Chris is a literary and poetical wonder
Yelena M is a musical rhythmic beauty
Reading which is my professional duty

Rue is somewhat naughty
But in her hearts of hearts she is a sweety
Neva Flores is a poetic muse
Whose poetry I involuntarily choose

I am happy to be a member of this prosody club
Our creativity revolves round this magnetic hub
We are indebted to this wonderful web
Writing poetry is a kind of hubbub
I am sorry not to include all the names of my fans on this site.I will surely write a poem on all of them soon.This poem is dedicated to all the well wishers of my poetry and me
A ****** becomes a woman
only when she is occupied, possessed
caressed and squeezed by her lover
or husband. As a buzzing bee *****
nectar from the flower, he sips manna from her rosy lips.

A man’s life is a waste
unless he smoothly touches the ******* of her lover
and pours the loving juice in to her beautiful *****
It is really an  ecstasy  for a man
to climb the mountains and go deep into
his lover’s deep valley and fathom
her inexpressible beauty

Blessed is the woman
whose breast is ****** most passionately by his lover
and  most lovingly by her child for milk
when she becomes a mother.
The greatest thing in this vast universe
is the happy union between a man
and a woman which is the real source
of recreation and creation of man,
the cleverest thinking animal on earth
Gone are the days when teachers
Came to school on cycles
Now every teacher owns a motor cycle
No teacher wants to ride a cycle
I am one of the few teachers
Who now and then use cycles

Riding a cycle is considered mean
Even my daughters regard it as mere fun
The cycle runs on human power
The motor cycle on electrical power
If it runs out of petrol
Somebody comes to console
If it develops a technical problem
It keeps mum like a tar drum
Human power is more reliable
Electrical power is always unpredictable

Bicycle is very easy to ride
It is a poor man’s pride
Riding a cycle is good for our health
It even saves some of our wealth
It saves environmental pollution
And releases our mental tension
rain and  death are the same
Nobody knows
when they greet us and drown us
Caste in India is a dense forest
Ambedkar  wanted to make it a plain
And tried his best to abolish it in right earnest
But he knew full well that he was in vain

If one wants to cut a poisonous plant
The other shouts like a maddening giant
The environmentalist feels deforestation is dangerous
So the re-forestation makes him curious

The wise believe deforestation is a myth
The roots are so entrenched in earth
The trees will continue to branching out and out
And grow and grow to a greater height
The Earth is pregnant
something new comes out of her
some where every day
The sun rises in the east
And sets in the west
A Hindu turns to the east
And worship the sun
A Muslim turns to west
And looks at the moon
A Hindu has a closely shaven head
And a Muslim A long grown beard
The Hindu writes from left to right
And a Muslim from right to left
Their rituals are quite opposite
And their beliefs totally different
But what is the colour of their blood?
What about the sufferings during a flood?
How do they feel during a hunger?
What about the music of a melodious singer?
What about the emotions
During  marriage and birth?
And  the inevitable death?
Their roads may be different
But the destination is the same
Allah or God may be the name
English is the king of all the languages

It will stay for all ages

The English conquered the whole world

English has become our watch word

Its spelling is un- phonetic

Its grammar is idiotic

We should know its glorious history

How it became a global language is a mystery

The English are highly polite

Their manners are a real delight

Everybody should know English for their survival

It is responsible for their cultural revival

I love English for its beauty

Teaching English is my duty

English text is my holy kit

I will try my level best to teach it

The secret of my happiness is simple

The school is my temple

Let’s all teach English with a missionary zeal

The eternal bliss we will surely feel

Yours sincerely,


No language is great or superior
Nor is any language is mean or inferior
But English is the most popular language
In the present modern age or even in the previous age

It is just a historical accident
It is not at all a great precedent
Mother, mother land and mother tongue are heaven
We have to protect them as a common phenomenon

English is a huge vulture
The destroyer of many a culture
Speaking English is a status quo
Not speaking it is considered very low

Every body should know and respect his mother tongue
There is no harm or sin in learning another tongue
But nobody should consider English and English are the best
The languages and cultures of the east are as great as the west

Language is just a means of communication
It is a must for any human or nation
Language shows all of us the way
It makes us possible what to say
Today is international mother-tongue day
Let every language shine like the sun ray
A Poem touches heart
fake poetry ruins the site
like poison in milk
Diwali is the festival of light
To those groping in the dark
But when  we celebrate the festival
With great delight
We never think of
The poor child’s pathetic plight
He is a burning *******
And she is an exploding fire work
Who illuminate others’ lives
But burn them selves like candles
How many children have got exploded
In the firework factories?
Child labour is a scar on Indian society
When I lit a lamp to night,I will shed a tear
For the poor soul
Who was burnt in the factory
Like a waste paper
Good friendship is like noon sun
Looks smaller in the beginning
But grows bigger and bigger by evening

Bad friendship is like morning sun
Looks bigger in the beginning
But gets smaller and smaller by noon

It is better to have fewer friends
And to retain them for life
Than have many friends
And lose one by one soon

A friend doesn’t happen on a face book
He/she should grow in our heart
Like a plant in earth
Which grows bigger and bigger
And branch out for posterity and eternity
You are a frog in the well

And you can’t see beyond the wall

But I am a fish in the ocean

Nobody can stop my lively motion

You think the water in your well is the pacific

And don’t understand the wise counsel of a critic

I travel as long as I can

Swimming is really my fun

Only the dolphin can match me in the run

I feel why I can’t fly like a swan

I can go deep into the sea

The eagle flies very high with a spree

I really pity you , Mr  frog

Your thinking is really vague

And your movement is a mere hop

You will never come to the top
In this trouble torn. Grief stricken world
Only music  embalm my aching soul
When corruption and bribery are the order of the day
Goons and rowdies show me the real way
Even the judges succumb to dishonesty
Morals and ethics have lost their identity
The veena, the flute, the clarinet, the drums
And the guitar make a soothing effect to my ears
When there is   incredible symphony
The distinction between East
And west is totally lost
Only peace and harmony forever last

Music is more intoxicating than vine
It is undoubtedly divine
There is music in the blowing wind,
Flowing stream, chirping of birds,
The hissing of  snakes,
The bleating of a goat
And the beating of a heart
And the passing of blood to each human part
But understanding the synchronization is a difficult art
I'am not a glutton
neither do I eat mutton
I'am a puritan
Shall I sing my telugu sonorous song
Which will stay for so long?
Like the cool breeze it touches your every part
And like any great art it surely soothes your heart

Have you ever heard of the great Bards
Annamayya and kshetrayya who sang
With a lot of godly emotion
And inexpressible passion?

I am very proud of my culture and song
Which will definitely make you throng
Your song may be sweeter and fine
But I like my song because it’s mine

God is undoubtedly music
We can’t understand his magic
Music is really intoxicating and divine
It is much more tranquilizing than  even French wine
New year’s Day is just another day
I celebrate it in a different way
Don’t want to drink tasty wine
And dance with beautiful women

I don’t believe in the ritual
A festival should be more spiritual
I don’t spend a day merrily
And the next day worriedly

I don’t want to voraciously eat food
Like animals in the wood
And visit friends’ houses
To give costly flower bouquets

Instead I want to introspect
With a retrospective effect
What did I do last year?
Were my goals really clear?

I will plan for the New Year
And implement it without any fear
Set very small things as my target
And try to reach them as a rocket
In India pongal is the best festival
It is not a mere ritual
We celebrate it in January
It is very very customary
It lasts for three days
Bhogi,sankranti and kanuma are the days.
On the first day we have a holy bath
Thinking that it sets us on the right path
Early in the morning we sit around the bhogi fire
Thinking it is the demon Ravana’s pyre
We put on a new and attractive attire
Dreaming life is a joyful boat shire
Children make wreaths of cowdung
Throw them into the fire like a gold ring
The villages are full of colourful bullocks
We sing folk songs taking neem sticks
The bride groom leaves for the mother-in-law’s house
The bride waits for him wearing a new saree and a blouse
Father-in-law gives the groom a costly gift
Mother-in-law makes a sumptuous feast
Younger sister-in-law teases the groom
The bride and the groom confine to the room
Mother prepares delicious dishes and pickles
Father goes to the farm worshipping the sickles
On the last day we go to the temple fair
I hope I made the happy pongal very clear
Yours sincerely,
Today is the festival of colours.
We,Indians, sprinkle colours on friends
Nature is replete with beautiful colurs.
Life is a mixture of many emotions
We turn red when we are angry
and we become greenif we are jealous

Red stands for change and valour
White is symbolic of peace and purity
Green symbolizes harvest and prosperity
Yellow is considered good omen
Saffron means sacrifice
black is considered an evil

The leaves are green
The human blood is red
The Ripe fruits and corn are yellow
milk is white and the sky is blue

Nature and life are inseparable
Different colours tell different things
May the festival of colurs bring Happiness
and prosperity in this trouble torn world!
A house

A house
without books
is a house
without windows and ventilators
I don’t want to spend Christmas

Drinking tasty wine

And dancing with beautiful women

I don’t believe in the theory of

Enjoying a day very merrily

And the other day worriedly

Jesus lived and died

For certain divine values







The values I cherish

Because only they make me flourish

Or else I will perish

Let’s all the eternal principles nourish
I hate those who always look into a mirror
and smear sweet smelling face powder
I think that is their grave error
and look at them with great horror

I need neither a comb nor a mirror
On my head I don't have the slightest hair
I am an egghead professor
my concept is as useful as pure air
I am a big thief
And I live in Independent India
On the 64th independence day
I was beaten almost to death
By the police
Because I was hungry
And tried to steal
An apple from a fruit vendor’s

On the same day
I saw the photograph
Of an officer
In all the leading news papers
He was given the best administrator’s
Award by the GOVERNMENT
He takes bribes everyday openly
I am a big thief and sinner
He is  a  great officer and award winner
I am a big thief
And I live in Independent India
On the 64th independence day
I was beaten almost to death
By the police
Because I was hungry
And tried to steal
An apple from a fruit vendor’s

On the same day
I saw the photograph
Of an officer
In all the leading news papers
He was given the best administrator’s
Award by the GOVERNMENT
He takes bribes everyday openly
I am a big thief and sinner
He is  a  great officer and award winner
When I sleep in the dark
*****  try to wake me up
But I don’t listen
The sun enters my bed
And touches me with his warm hands
Then I wake up from my slumber
This has been happening since my childhood
I was a student forty years ago
Now I am a teacher student
Still I go to the same school
I was a child forty years ago
Now I am father to two children
I think I am a childish man
My roles have changed
But my behaviour hasn’t
I think the basic nature of a child
Doesn’t change even it turns into  a man or a woman
Because child is the father of man
This poem is written just for a change.I don't think it is a poem at all
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