Members
20/F
Inside I'm made of words. Inside I'm life and death and light and darkness. I'm your worst dream and your greatest secret. I'm a beautiful …
31/M/Sri Lanka
Poems
Meera
May 2018
The princess who chose
To live in exile
Holding the hand of her husband
With a beautiful smile
Framed in a guile by Ravan
But she didn't fall in his wicked ways
Despite being held captive
And tortured for nights and days
She refused to go with Hanuman
When he came to rescue her
Insisted that Rama come openly to defeat her captor
In Rama's honor exile did she prefer
On the Ravan's defeat - to prove her purity
She had to walk through fire
But the flames neither touched her body
And nor her attire
The fire bowed in her honor
But that wasn't enough
For the clouds of gloom
Were towering above
The world has never been fair to women
Despite of proving her purity
Sita had to leave
It was the height of cruelty
Cause Rama was as weak
In the face of his men
As strong he was
In front of Ravan
Rama- the man
Sita loved enough to die for
Asked her to leave
To the path that led abhor
Just imagine the way Sita would be looking at Rama
With whom she had to part
For he was standing dumb like a statue
When her world was falling apart
Would she have accused or looked down at him
As she asked mother earth to swallow her
She was going back to where she came from
In order to save the last shred of her honor
To live in exile
Holding the hand of her husband
With a beautiful smile
Framed in a guile by Ravan
But she didn't fall in his wicked ways
Despite being held captive
And tortured for nights and days
She refused to go with Hanuman
When he came to rescue her
Insisted that Rama come openly to defeat her captor
In Rama's honor exile did she prefer
On the Ravan's defeat - to prove her purity
She had to walk through fire
But the flames neither touched her body
And nor her attire
The fire bowed in her honor
But that wasn't enough
For the clouds of gloom
Were towering above
The world has never been fair to women
Despite of proving her purity
Sita had to leave
It was the height of cruelty
Cause Rama was as weak
In the face of his men
As strong he was
In front of Ravan
Rama- the man
Sita loved enough to die for
Asked her to leave
To the path that led abhor
Just imagine the way Sita would be looking at Rama
With whom she had to part
For he was standing dumb like a statue
When her world was falling apart
Would she have accused or looked down at him
As she asked mother earth to swallow her
She was going back to where she came from
In order to save the last shred of her honor
Sita was raised by King Janaka; she was not his natural daughter but sprang from a furrow when he was ploughing his field. Rama won her as his bride by bending Shiva’s bow, and she accompanied her husband when he went into exile. Though carried away to Lanka by Ravana, she kept herself chaste by concentrating her heart on Rama throughout her long imprisonment. On her return she asserted her purity and also proved it by voluntarily undergoing an ordeal by fire. Rama, however, banished her to the forest in deference to public opinion. There she gave birth to their two children, Kusha and Lava. After they reached maturity and were acknowledged by Rama to be his sons, she called upon her mother, Earth, to swallow her up.
Sita is worshipped as the incarnation of Lakshmi, the consort of Vishnu. Though often regarded as the embodiment of wifely devotion and self-sacrifice, she is critical of Rama at times, even in the earliest version of the Ramayana, and in some of the later versions of the story she departs from the idealized, chaste image of the earlier text.
Sita is worshipped as the incarnation of Lakshmi, the consort of Vishnu. Though often regarded as the embodiment of wifely devotion and self-sacrifice, she is critical of Rama at times, even in the earliest version of the Ramayana, and in some of the later versions of the story she departs from the idealized, chaste image of the earlier text.
MdAsadullah
Nov 2014
As I sauntered on banks of Yamuna at night.
I saw a man old, bent, with stick in dhoti white.
Tardily, step by step as he came nearer to me.
With joy I smiled as our own beloved Bapu was he.
With tears in my eyes I asked, ' Bapu you are still alive! ,
those three bullets holed your chest, how did you survive?
What happened to you? Where were you all these days?
What you ate? How you lived? Now where do you stay?
Condition of your beloved land is deteriorating day by day.
Countrymen have left your path, they have gone astray.
Your image, your killers are trying to malign and degrade.
Berating your ways, encouraging means which you forbade.
******'s advocates on chariots are traversing Nation's length.
Day by day Fascism is gaining ground , gaining strength.
Disguised as followers of Sri Ram, deeds of Ravan they do.
Riots and killings are frequent, women and minors are targeted too.
Terrorism nourishing on terrorism, cruelty at its worst.
Targeting anyone, anywhere, time and again bombs burst.
Once a land of peace, land of sufism, land of saints,
now ******. Innocent souls being killed without restraint.
Regionalism is being encouraged and taking roots.
Unity of the Nation selfish politicians reduce and dilute.
Corruption is increasing everywhere and in all spheres
Even highest office of respect could not keep itself clear '
Passing his hand over my head he smiled and said '
I am just a spirit, long ago my weak body was dead.
Daily with expectation I rise and daily with despair I die
Daily my hope is shattered and daily with grief I sigh
They may have killed me but now I live in numerous hearts
They may write me down in history yet my message will dart.
See this flag, colour saffron is dear to me, colour green I love.
between them is colour white, colour of peace, colour of dove.
Nation divided in three hurts me more than bullets three
From casteism and regionlism country should be free.
Communalism should not be allowed to raise its ugly head.
With sword of constitution Fascism we need to behead '
Three sound disturbed the calm, beloved Bapu fell on the ground
I went to help but Bapu vanished with words 'Hey Ram' echoing around
Determined that this time his innocent blood will not go waste.
I collected his non-violent blood in my pen like ink with haste.
I saw a man old, bent, with stick in dhoti white.
Tardily, step by step as he came nearer to me.
With joy I smiled as our own beloved Bapu was he.
With tears in my eyes I asked, ' Bapu you are still alive! ,
those three bullets holed your chest, how did you survive?
What happened to you? Where were you all these days?
What you ate? How you lived? Now where do you stay?
Condition of your beloved land is deteriorating day by day.
Countrymen have left your path, they have gone astray.
Your image, your killers are trying to malign and degrade.
Berating your ways, encouraging means which you forbade.
******'s advocates on chariots are traversing Nation's length.
Day by day Fascism is gaining ground , gaining strength.
Disguised as followers of Sri Ram, deeds of Ravan they do.
Riots and killings are frequent, women and minors are targeted too.
Terrorism nourishing on terrorism, cruelty at its worst.
Targeting anyone, anywhere, time and again bombs burst.
Once a land of peace, land of sufism, land of saints,
now ******. Innocent souls being killed without restraint.
Regionalism is being encouraged and taking roots.
Unity of the Nation selfish politicians reduce and dilute.
Corruption is increasing everywhere and in all spheres
Even highest office of respect could not keep itself clear '
Passing his hand over my head he smiled and said '
I am just a spirit, long ago my weak body was dead.
Daily with expectation I rise and daily with despair I die
Daily my hope is shattered and daily with grief I sigh
They may have killed me but now I live in numerous hearts
They may write me down in history yet my message will dart.
See this flag, colour saffron is dear to me, colour green I love.
between them is colour white, colour of peace, colour of dove.
Nation divided in three hurts me more than bullets three
From casteism and regionlism country should be free.
Communalism should not be allowed to raise its ugly head.
With sword of constitution Fascism we need to behead '
Three sound disturbed the calm, beloved Bapu fell on the ground
I went to help but Bapu vanished with words 'Hey Ram' echoing around
Determined that this time his innocent blood will not go waste.
I collected his non-violent blood in my pen like ink with haste.
Ankit Mohanty
Oct 2017
We're found to be cut off but not long ago!
Some burn us with sparklers
and we get modulated as flames in a flash
by yielding fire flowers to your night sky
And you numskulls think that we die.
Some sculp us with molten cruelty as symbol of mockery.
It's Good enough that we we're just called as devils.
But what about those bed evils
Who attack upon on lassies
With the holler word called “babies”
To accomplish their own seductive urge.
What about those drunken buffoons
In those paved streets under the feeble streetlights stalking the fragile once either for fun or for a wrong intention.
What about the brute
twice the age of his married daughter
bites into the soul of a maiden.
Spitting the venomous words
and incapacitates the heart
Numbness spreads all over her body
after the spiteful attack.
For heaven's sake
Don't point your fingers on us
We're better than you
I being Ravan,
The biggest devotee of lord Siva
And had an extremely loyal wife like Mandodari
Been burned with ten heads
For just kidnapping Sita
Whereas I returned her with due respect.
But these days people use women like toys
by fulfilling their joys.
And Mahishasura,
Who could worship so hard to impress three lords
was eventually killed by Durga and could meet the death by hands of powerful women.
But these days people **** the female child before birth
thinking daughters as burden on earth.
If still you don't get atonement
Just think this poem as a complement
And just think how better are we as your opponent.
May the whole world call us demon or devil
But first learn to tackle the inner evil.
If possible put pins and needle
to such people
Then the world will be in next level.
Some burn us with sparklers
and we get modulated as flames in a flash
by yielding fire flowers to your night sky
And you numskulls think that we die.
Some sculp us with molten cruelty as symbol of mockery.
It's Good enough that we we're just called as devils.
But what about those bed evils
Who attack upon on lassies
With the holler word called “babies”
To accomplish their own seductive urge.
What about those drunken buffoons
In those paved streets under the feeble streetlights stalking the fragile once either for fun or for a wrong intention.
What about the brute
twice the age of his married daughter
bites into the soul of a maiden.
Spitting the venomous words
and incapacitates the heart
Numbness spreads all over her body
after the spiteful attack.
For heaven's sake
Don't point your fingers on us
We're better than you
I being Ravan,
The biggest devotee of lord Siva
And had an extremely loyal wife like Mandodari
Been burned with ten heads
For just kidnapping Sita
Whereas I returned her with due respect.
But these days people use women like toys
by fulfilling their joys.
And Mahishasura,
Who could worship so hard to impress three lords
was eventually killed by Durga and could meet the death by hands of powerful women.
But these days people **** the female child before birth
thinking daughters as burden on earth.
If still you don't get atonement
Just think this poem as a complement
And just think how better are we as your opponent.
May the whole world call us demon or devil
But first learn to tackle the inner evil.
If possible put pins and needle
to such people
Then the world will be in next level.