"bhagat" poems
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha sabhi ka samman kiya jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha sabhi logo me ekta hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha atithi ko bhagwan ka darja diya jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha aurato ko devi kaha jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha hindu muslim sikh esai sabhi bhai bhai hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha mata pita ko dharti ke bhagwan mana jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha sabhi log desh ke liye marte hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha mahatma gandhi, Bhagat singh, Subash chandra bose jaise beero ne janam liya tha,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha par sanchai aur ekta mishal hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha ki nadiya sudha jal deti hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jise log bharat ya india kahte hain...
JAY HIND
JAY BHARAT
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
We live in a country,
where people are respected.
We live in a country,
where people 's unity.
We live in a country,
Where the hotel is supposed to be god.
We live in a country,
Where women are like goddess worship.
We live in a country,
Where hindu muslim sikh and christians are all brothers.
We live in a country,
where parents are considered to be the god of the earth.
We live in a country,
where all people have to die for the country.
We live in a country,
Where subash chandra, Azad and Bhagat singh was born as braves.
We live in a country,
Where truth and honesty is a precedent.
We live in a country,
Where the rivers are provide pure water.
We live in a country,
where the flag is always undulate.
we live in a country,
Those who call india.
JAY HIND JAY BHARAT
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 3:49 AM UTC
A bird lived its life lonely,
None came for its help,
It kept hunting for fruit pulp,
Considered relations and family unholy.
When its mother lived on difficulty,
Other relative birds, treated it a person of mediocrity,
Refused to follow generosity without partiality,
To keep them safe, pretended their incapacity.
Elder sister of the lonely bird kept threatening,
About the future inabilities and loneliness,
For a family life, kept telling it undeserving,
Told it would face disappointments without liveliness.
Life kept the lonely bird, lonely,
The bird never cared about it,
It had its mother with it,
Life went lively & happily.
Lonely bird had a fear in its thought,
What happens, in loneliness if I am caught?
It felt severe anguish and fear,
On occasions, its heart fell in tear!
Its elder sister, treated it with disrespect,
In spite of it being, an aspiring intellect,
Life of lonely bird remained downward,
It got itself ready for situations untoward.
The lonely bird kept struggling and thriving,
With its ambition and goals put its life driving,
Going remained really impossible & tough
The path to dream remained very rough.
Its fellow birds, remained happily settled,
For lonely bird, things looked to be tangled,
It was skilled, opportunities remained disabled,
With rejections, life continuously growled.
The lonely bird wanted to turn phenomenal,
Didn’t look out to happiness personal,
It did not have family,
In its wealth remained, being hit poorly.
Life went downward with pause,
It was on long term ambition and cause,
The bird turned itself a hungry beast,
To put it away from loneliness, at least.
If none is there, to take care,
I would die! I would die!
For a worldly mission, if I dare!
Of loneliness, I would never cry!
Elder sister of lonely bird threatened,
You were born a layman
Will die an orphan!
Because you are a madman!
The lonely bird, responded for it in life,
I was born a layman,
Will fight for my mission like a madman,
Will die always fighting world evils as a spearman.
There was ring! There was a ring!
It was named Bhagat Singh!
It told me life is lived on its own,
Others shoulders are used at time of funeral.
There was an alarm! There was an alarm!
The name was Abdul Kalam,
It told me Always be the unique you,
Even if world wants to change you everybody else.
Loneliness sometimes hit it like thorn,
Nothing could make it torn,
Through difficulties it was born,
It lived life to make this world adorn.
Loneliness turns out ubique,
I am not alone! I am not alone!
I am an unshakable stone,
I am unique! I am unique!
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Last night I traveled through time,
Went to the future & the past afar,
Visited Da Vinci, Bhagat Singh,
And the inventor of the car.
Then I had a thought,
Something of contrast,
We’ve committed our future,
So why not our past?
I took junior me,
And flew to junior you,
On my way, I told him
Stories about our love, true.
Cute things we did together,
Clockwork at midnight,
Our date at the beach,
Supposed love at first sight.
He was so **** excited,
I could see it in his eyes,
Then I told him what I did wrong,
All my faults, All my lies.
He said I was stupid,
And he’ll do it better,
Each day he’ll love you,
And write you a lovely letter.
I told him about your past,
Or at the time, your future,
He said he’ll care,
And with care he’ll nurture,
I then told him about me,
What scarred me before,
He told me not to worry,
Cause I’ll have you, unlike afore.
We reached your town,
Was early in the morn,
Bought you gajras you love,
For your hair, for you to adorn.
The junior me, held a rose,
In front of you it stood,
He looked at your luscious hair,
But didn’t feel a thing he should.
How is it that this happened?
Why didn’t your eyes shine?
Where is that sparkle,
Which I so dearly called mine?
I came back to the present,
Straight from there to you,
Looked right into your eyes
Ah! the sparkle, the hue!
It’s here, I said.
Where else my love, you asked.
I thought I had lost it, I said.
I had missed it dearly, I said,
But where had it gone, you asked.
It wasn’t in our past, I said.
You smiled at me,
and I knew exactly where it was.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
Main hoon dasi
Kisi ki naukrani nahin
Na koi kaharin
Main hoon devadasi
Devalayon ki shobha
Sada saanjh ko
Kanak deep jala
Devstuti kar
Khud ko bhagyawati samajhti
Main hoon devadasi
Yahi to hai mera garv
Wah din yaad hai aaj bhi
Raja ne jis din meri pratibha
Ko samjha
Mujhe devadasi ka pad saunpa
Mere premi mere devta
Prabhu
Sada raat ko jinke liye
Ghunghroo pehen naachti main
Lekin garima meri hai aisi
Aashiq mere anek
Naachti jab main
Mujhe dekh
Woh kya maza lootte
Mere punya ko chhente!
He prabhu
Jeeti hoon ab
Roz shoshan ke dar mein
Uddhar Karo naath
Tumhari patni nahin
Aakul bhagat ki to guhar suno
Uddhar Karo prabhu
Kehlaun mein
Punya devadasi!
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
In a castle where shadows crept and curled,
Lived a beast, feared by the world.
But within his roar, a silence dwelled,
A heart that once in sorrow swelled.
Beauty saw beyond the beastly mask,
In kindness, she found her task.
For love, she knew, is not just sight,
It blooms in the darkest night.
She taught that grace is more than skin,
It’s the love we give, the strength within.
In patience, she untied the knot,
That cruelty and fear had tightly wrought.
The beast’s true face was never shown,
Until Beauty’s love had grown.
A lesson here, both old and new,
True beauty is found in what we do.
So heed this tale, let love be your guide,
For every beast has a soul inside.
It’s in the heart, where true love's feast,
We find our beauty, we find our beast.
©Priyanka Bhagat
Aug 24, 2024
Aug 24, 2024 at 5:23 AM UTC
Somewhere in a high castle, time stands still,
Sleeping beauty sleeps against her own will.
Certain dreams just bide their time,
In hope for a love so sublime.
In her siesta so deep, many lessons speak,
In a quiet breath, in gentle sleep.
Patience is foremost as the world will turn,
At every dawn, there is a chance to learn.
While she sleeps , wisdom is found,
That karma is real and everything eventually comes around.
It’s kindness that wins the day,
And it's resilience that finds the way.
Her patience teaches us the fate’s embrace,
That achievements doesn't use force but consistent grace.
To trust the journey , and just let it be,
And after a while you shall see.
A gentle peck on her lips, a love’s true call,
Awakens a desire that fears no fall.
In silence a lot of dreams are spun,
Boldly facing your life trials , you know you have already won.
So even when you sleep , keep alive your dreams,
For life’s not always what it seems.
Make sure that new seed is sown,
And through your patience, you will see that you have grown
Work hard with no rush or strife,
But with the calm knowledge of knowing life.
Because Sleeping Beauty’s tale is definitely true,
The lesson learnt here is that the greatest strength lies deep within you.
©Priyanka Bhagat
Aug 26, 2024
Aug 26, 2024 at 3:07 AM UTC
Handed down through the ages,
Humanity in hearts and reverance for the sages.
This place is more like a heaven on Earth,
Myriad of religions are taken here birth.
Our emperors were too kind to invade any country,
Million of channels telecast it's documentary.
Jai Hind and Satyamev Jayte resides in our heart,
Our sand handles both a motor and a cart.
The holy Ganga flows from the bottom of Himalayas,
So is worshipped for being called a gift like Matthias.
The Himalayan is fit like a crown on our mother's head,
Climatic variations and monsoon rainfall are so evenly spread.
World's economy has an immense eminence of zero,
Invented by Aryabhatta; Ramanujan- the Maths hero.
Bhagat Singh, Laxmi Bai had been an epitome of strength,
Education is vastly spread and immeasurable in length.
Variety of raiment is seen in every state,
Twenty two languages and each with a feel of sedate.
Vendors working daily amidst tumults on roads,
Poetry scribbled by poet as their respectful odes.
Colours of rainbow is reflected here well,
Luscious cuisines grabs heed by the smell.
Geeta, Qur'an, Adi Granth and Bible,
At different hours, they worship their idols.
Vaisakhi, Christmas, Holi and Eid
we stand together as a pillar in every need.
Writings are not only read in books,
But scripted on walls, painting on hooks.
Folk arts, tribal arts, feet beating on rhythm,
Dance forms are many, depicting their vision.
Here, women are treated equal to men,
Delhi and Mumbai got their place in the list of wen.
We treat our guests as the heavenly God,
One can visit here either by plane or brod.
Weddings are held by following every ritual,
Our ways may differ but our hearts are mutual.
With so much of glory do not mistake it as Neverland,
As this Golden bird does not fly but stays on land.
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 10:51 AM UTC
Amidst autumn's hue, where shadows play,
A leaf named Luna danced, on her final day.
She clung to branches, worn and weak,
Yet in release, her strength would speak.
My story's not unique, yet universally true,
We all must rise, and shine through.
Like the seasons, our journeys unfold,
From darkness to light, we're made to mold.
Resilience is born, in every fall,
A chance to rise, and stand tall.
I am Luna, and this is my tale,
Of transformation, and inner prevail.
So let my words, be your guiding light,
Shine through fears, and ignite your night.
You are strong, you are brave, you are bright,
Unleash your inner strength, and take flight.
©Priyanka Bhagat
Oct 5, 2024
Oct 5, 2024 at 5:58 AM UTC
In a garden kissed by the morning dew,
A rosebud dreams, its petals few.
Wrapped in green, held tight and low,
It longs to bloom, but fears to grow.
The sun shines bright, a guiding light,
“Rise and shine, embrace your fight!”
But the earth holds firm, the roots dig deep,
Each sip a struggle, each step to leap.
The wind whispers soft, “You’ve got this, just wait,
Break the chains, embrace your fate.”
But doubt sneaks in, whispers of fear,
“Will I bloom? Will I appear?”
Through stormy nights and endless trials,
The rosebud fights, mile by mile.
Each thorn a victory, each tear a sign,
Of a journey hard, yet purely divine.
Then one day, with gentle grace,
The bud breaks free, reveals its face.
Petals unfold, in vibrant hue,
A story of strength, in colors true.
For in every struggle, beauty’s born,
A rose that blooms, from dusk till dawn.
And all who witness, all who see,
Find hope in how this rose came to be.
©Priyanka Bhagat
Sep 4, 2024
Sep 4, 2024 at 1:10 PM UTC
Not in a palace, but rather where purpose redeems,
Cinderella learnt the value of dreams.
She discovered her own brightness
amid the ashes—not by elaborate clothing, but rather with inner strength, that's surely inspiring.
Despite the loud mocking from her step-sisters ,
she managed to rise above the superficial whispers.
Her inner personality was shown in deeds of kindness;
Her daily compass was patience and righteousness.
Her destiny wasn't sealed by the glass slipper, but it did highlight her great in her ,
Since genuine magic exists in her heart
So bold that it sets her apart
Ler her path to encourage you to take a chance
It’s when you struggle you will find your stance
Let Cinderella's story be a reflection for you to see
That everyone of us has the ability to set ourselves free .
©Priyanka Bhagat
Aug 22, 2024
Aug 22, 2024 at 12:51 PM UTC
Pragya Bhagat's Poem:
this poem isn’t an answer
it’s a question
how do we become the stories we tell ourselves
how do we become the stories we tell
how do we become the stories
how do we become
how do we
how
My response:
Answer Can Be
Or rather the stories become us
Perhaps no becoming
Perhaps they just are
As they wait for expression
Hidden beyond sight
Aug 30, 2024
Aug 30, 2024 at 12:22 AM UTC
The day he walked in that door
was the day he was destined to die.
He lay his foot inside the door
and the other one concurrently came out.
He transposed his clothes
but they ceased to cover his body.
The scarlet coat was left hanging
in the closet with his soul.
Indicted with crimes
that he must not have been penalized for.
And bashed by society
with their spiteful words like arrows.
Met his lover
but was parted by the injudicious laws.
Left skint and lacerated
with the epithet of an outcast.
Alien tears fill for him
and outcasts pay their homages.
No statue of air was this man
yet hard labor was all he was given to build it out of stone.
His teacher later delineated him as a blot on their tutorship.
For he was but a tutor.
De Profundis
spoke of his anguished journey.
Victorian times
disagreed with his originality and frolic.
He told
platonic love was all he was guilty of.
Yet,
he was charged with crimes.
Drowned in cries of shame;
and incarcerated to rip him off his passion.
Something was dead in him,
and what was dead was hope.
Hope died first
and then gradually died the passion.
In exile,
his love for writing too deceased.
The daemon inside him
ceased to inspire.
God sent the lord of death
The lord of death
didn’t move around pompously like him.
But came announced,
for it had been accepted.
The wallpaper moaned
upon his untimely death.
For it desired to die
instead of the then mincing man.
He left the earthly plains
for the good have fewer days.
The good die young
as did the revered outcast.
Herodotus the father of history
unerringly expressed the good ones’ misery.
He repudiated to deny his soul
and lived nonchalantly.
He desired all the fruits of the world
so he lived.
Exile ruined him
and rent his ardor.
His meetings with his lover
were interdicted by his family.
He was pardoned
but a century too late.
Along with the outcasts
that lived in throbbing pain.
The outcast deceased when young
but lived indefinitely.
Infinite existence is promised
for the ***** was silver-tongued.
He died young
and roams the immortal planes.
Just like Alan Turing,
Bhagat Singh, JFK, and countless more.
God wanted them
for they wanted to augment their heavens.
Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 11:38 AM UTC