"neem" poems
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,
JVL NARASIMHA RAO
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
Daar was g'n tyd vir bybelversies nie
, want die brood van lewe was te duur
En wie wil nou regtig wag om ring
As die manne vir jou hoogliedere sing.
Aan die begin was daar niks nie
Maar hyt gepraat met sy hande
En toe was daar lig en oh die gode
Dit was goed! Dit was goed!
Maar hy was aleen in n wereld met als
En almal was sonder naam
, toe hy sy laaste een gee en ek
Deur bloed en been vir hom geskep is.
Dit was goed, dit was goed
En ek huil snot en trane van seer
Maar die appel proe soet
Of jy hom in die hemel of die hel hap...
Jy is die fontein van lewe,
Ek drink van jou en raak dors
Vir meer as net een aand van sterrevolg.
Mag ek dronk raak op jou wyn?
Of is jy my een reeds voor!?
En ek kan.nie kerk toe hol nie
En die Bybel vloek my skel
Want jou lyf voel soos die Hemel
Maar Hy se jy is die Hel.
Mag ek langs jou bed op kniee neersak
En jou hand in myne neem??
Kom ons raak besope...
Genoeg om liefdesliede
vir mekaar te kreun.
More bid ons om vergifnis
En vergeet wat sonde is
Tot die vlees te veel begeer
En die lewenslig so bietjie blus.
Dit is *** die liefde werk,
Dis my lewe dié
Die struikelblok wat my versmoor
Van n vel religie.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
I want to go back to my past
When tame pigeons of joy nested on my eaves
And I could hear their crooning
With the sweetness of love outpouring
I want to go back to my past
When innocent instincts ruled my heart
And I ran after every call from the woods or bush
Mesmerized by the whistles of the oriole and the thrush
I want to go back to my past
When every rainbow and every peacock feather
Ignited curiosity in me as a child
And colored my imagination wild
I want to go back to my past
When, with friends, I sat in the mango grove
And savored the ripe juicy mangoes
Careful not to let the pulp drip down our mouths
I want to go back to my past
When we strolled along the sandy strands
Watching the wild waves fray
And cooled by the kiss of spray
I want to go back to my past
When we had watched at night
A hundred fireflies dancing around the neem
Wondering if they were stars fallen from heaven’s seam
I want to go back to my past
When, like breeze, we ran over the meadows
Looking for the bleating lamb
Singing in chorus, ‘Mary had a little lamb’
I want to go back to my past,
When life appears a trying test
With ‘the slings and arrows of an outrageous fortune’
And as and when I feel so desperately alone!
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
The Whirring of the fan in the dark
As I lay on the cotton sheet
Sleep eluding me, perspiration finding me
This blasted Delhi heat
In the burning orange of the noon
The rickshaw tires play with the dust
And all is silent like a black n white film
It's just screaming in the color of rust
Neem trees, dried leaves
And the buzzing of the evening flies
Time to chase the ice lollies vendor
As the temple bell tolls by
Along comes the night again
Heaving and spewing, choking on fiery stars
Already restless for the next season
Oh why are Delhi winters so far
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 6:25 PM UTC
#*I am part of many groups
Yet, not part of any
Part of the crowd
Yet, free like a bird
Like the neem tree
Rooted
And its branches sway free*#
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 3:19 AM UTC
Iemand reikt me een hand
Als ik verstar
verdwijnt de hand opnieuw in de schaduw
Twijfelend blijf ik staan
Ik tast in het duister ..
Niets
Net als ik me omdraai
verschijnt de hand opnieuw
Deze keer neem ik ze zonder aarzelen in de mijne
En als de schaduw wegtrekt
kijk ik recht in twee hemelsblauwe ogen
en wil ik nooit meer loslaten
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 7:51 PM UTC
If you stare out of a window
Across a bleak garden some September morning
If the neem tree in the garden reminds you of home
Vast, old, timeless
If you remember playing under a neem tree in Allahabad
And you can almost hear the laughter of children as they play
In the heat of a sultry afternoon in June
And because the window is small and barred and cannot open
Because you want to breathe freedom
Because you want to shower without them watching
Because you silently swallow your screams
Because your mind is starting to get fuzzy
Because your tongue is starting to slur
Because you have started drooling
Because your fingers shake when you write
Because the words Ritalin Prozac Depakote Lithium
Have started sounding like poetry
Because you feel your resistance slowly dying
Because you start to say the words they want to hear
Because you know the glazed look in the eyes of others
Is in your eyes too
Because this confluence of muscle and bone is wasting
Because you sleep for hours
Because you now smile at your doctors
Because you scream when the ECT paraphernalia is wheeled in
Because no one cares
Because once you’re labeled, you will be forever
Because asylums were once freak shows
Because asylum is not what it means
You go back to staring
Staring
Staring
Staring
Staring
Staring
Staring
Staring
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 1:05 PM UTC
Some sweet memories of my Village and childhood days :-)
My village, is an Evergreen Heaven, full of singing birds, the crystal clear river with a non-stop flow of water.
A graceful temple of the powerful Goddess, with it attached the sacred Banyan tree. And a beautiful swing by rope for the kids to enjoy their evening.
Men sit chatting under the Banyan tree. Women washing clothes and gossiping near the river side. My village, being a part of God's own country is calm and peaceful for both the old ones and the young ones.
Enchanting festivals happen, specially during summer. The best part of my life is my childhood days in my village. It is blessed by nature with full of greenery on all its sides with paddy fields, coconut,tamarind,mango, neem and the list goes on.
I enjoyed my childhood with my cousins playing Hide and Seek, Lock and Key, Making mud pots which are never allowed to play by the kids nowadays.Those days are filled with pleasure and entertainment.
Competing with the Cuckoo's Coooo making it angry ! Walking on the walls, eating ripe mangoes, climbing on trees..waow ! It was fun :-)
A mischievous chat with Grandma, Grandpa and great Grandma who loved me more than they do themselves.
Making compulsory our afternoon nap, punishing us with his love and care, my Big uncle. He punishes us with his Hand fan or 50 - 100 sit ups holding our ears! But at this moment I realise he did that because he loves us a lot!
Craving to hear songs from the radio and singing along with it, writing it down and learning it by heart :-P
Going for movies with Grandma, it was really a great fun ! Ours was a Joint family system with uncles, aunts,cousins and there was love, understanding, sharing, caring for one another. Having breakfast, lunch and dinner together with the family where there were always laughter and only laughter :-)
Wish all those sweet and golden moments to come back !!!
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 1:48 AM UTC
Bullock carts moving forward
With the music of jingling bells
Women walking like a peahen
Balancing mud pots of water
On their head with a band
Women churning butter from
Milk with the churning rod
Men with their spades to fields
Ready for the ploughing
Boys,with their tool, catapult
Aiming at the juicy mangoes
Little girls running with laughter
To the call of a bangle-seller
Old men sitting in the verandah
Memorising their days of youth
Fruit selling woman calling out loud
Bananas,Apples,Mangoes
Smoke from the chimneys
Like an engine of a train
Red chillies, turmeric and coriander
Spread on sheets in the sunlight
Goats and calves crying out in
Search of their pet homes
Village full of greenery with
Gulmohars, Banyan and Neem
Busy with their daily duties
Happy with no disappointments
The villagers of olden days !
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC
Kom ons wees oppervlakkig
Kom ons verbeel ons dit was niks
, 'n nag vol stampe en stote
dis al , - dis al
Kom ons wees naief
en jonk en dom
, en ... ag ek weet nie
ons leef mos net eenkeer?
Kom ons wees koud en
hard, soos die plaiveisel
en die mure waarteen jy my
vasgedruk het as ons soen!
Kom ons bou vir maande
aan iets en verloor dit
in jou hortende stem
wat soms die sprong
oor die berge kon maak,
maar nou wegkwyn in
kuberstiltes -stiltes -stiltes
waar jou ***** se echo
in die verlede verdwyn.
Waar is jy nou?
Nou dat my are al
lintend- swerwend in
die wind agter jou wapper
en my hart knus in jou
glas bottel le...
nog 'n glas bottel,
was al wat jy werklik wou he.
Kom ons wees verlief
Depressief
Agressief
Neem inisiatief en
vergeet van my...
,want diep binne
het ek jou
nog eintlik lief...
Hello Genisis
Kom ons wees oppervlakkig...
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 6:10 AM UTC
Where i am
Somewhere on solid lithosphere
everybody seems mad,
viewing the world from an empty plate
yesterday and today can never be the same
about ninety percent of the world is confused,
the more you know the less you understand
you have no clue
pray for the mind's eyes
beauty in perspectives
Semi-rainbow Sedatives
Naked band of thieves
Slender neem twigs
when you see the light
live with it
Wherever you are
don't feel mad
BY IWO O. EDWIN
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
The bitter neem reminds of those days -
the day your heart broke
the day you have to leave your family
the day your beloved pet passed away
the day you felt your life purposeless
all those days filled with sadness
The sweet jaggery reminds of those days -
the day of your first kiss
the day you achieved a dream
the day your kid first walked
the day you received the first paycheck
all those days filled with happiness
The spicy chilies reminds of those days -
the day you were criticized
the day you couldn’t find a solution
the day you waited long in queue
the day you were rejected after many attempts
all those days filled with anger
The sour tamarind reminds of those days –
the day you are completely lost
the day your dearest friend betrayed
the day you failed in everything
the day the problems seemed unsolvable
all those days filled with disgust
The pinch of salt reminds of those days –
the day you are left alone
the day you failed an exam
the day you have to speak facing the crowd
the day you felt crisis in life
all those days filled with fear
The tangy mango reminds of those days -
the day when a stranger helped you
the day you received an thank you note
the day you met a very old friend
the day when a wish suddenly becomes the reality
all those days filled with surprise
Combine all -
the experiences of life in a single dish
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 2:45 AM UTC
Curry Leaf Tree
It must be because
I have not seen a lush curry leaf tree
For the last 6 years
That I always watered
A curry leaf tree
In my mind of minds
Daily it flourishes,
Getting greener and greener
There is no distinction
Between strangers or close ones, Everyone who saw it
Used to take its leaves
It will bow down
In front of those
Who cannot reach the branches,
So that they can snap the twigs again and again
When the smell of curry spreads,
All houses, along with the kids,
Will become strange,
Spreading a lot of happiness
Let them call my darling leaves ‘curry leaves’
Don’t cry, my children
Neem tree
For the last 6 years,
What is observed with a full heart
Is neem trees
Standing row upon row
Whenver possible,
I will fit into its shade
If no one saw me,
I Give a kiss
You should see the smile
Exposing its light green gum
Then
How many came,
How many went
Feel sad
When I see the detachment of the graying leaves,
“Come if you must,
Stay if you will,
Go if that is what you wish”
Isn’t this what your body language speak
Standing there?
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC
one fine spring morning
sitting in my chair
newspaper
in hand
basking the sun
in front of my eyes
a scene thus run:
a sparrow perched
on nearby neem tree
sailed to my verandah
and sat on the sill,
in front a looking glass
a while she sat still
a little thoughtful
a little perplexed
finally she was
bitterly vexed.
her own image in the glass
she couldn’t tolerate
to beat it with her bill
at the glass she knocked,
so madly she did drill
as if ‘the other’
she would ****
in doing this
she broke her beak
all over the beak
the blood did spill,
ignorantly her own
she couldn’t bear
mercilessly her own
with her own beak tear.
frequently she visits,
she now understands,
she comes with her company
but I never saw the repeat,
she and her company
seem to have known
the harmony in Nature
to places they have flown.
WE ‘the roof and crown of things’
spill blood of our brothers
some times on 9/11
in US and fly
again in Jaipur and
Bombay high.
How long will go on this ****** trail?
When will the harmony in man prevail?
C. P. Sharma
Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 8:16 AM UTC
Neem mijn hand
wieg mijn hart
Geef me leven
Laten wij niet deel
Als wij vallen
Terwijl verdeeld
Wij mogen nooit
worden herenigd
Take my hand
Cradle my heart
Give me life
Do not let us part
If we fall
while divided
we may never
be reunited
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
De spelonken van jouw bestaan zijn meer dan alleen diep, mijn lief. Ondoorgrondbaar, niet vindbaar, met zoveel omwegen wegleidend van her hart.
Soms vraag ik me af hoeveel tijd je aan het graven hebt besteed.
Soms ga ik het gevecht aan, neem ik een schep mee naar je toe. Dan delf ik in je bestaan, delf ik naar je hart. Maar dan verleid jij tot een herberekende route of uitweg. Af en toe spring ik in het diepe en vind ik een robijn, maar ook die zal niet lang van mij zijn.
Je hebt gezorgd voor een hele hoop spelonken, vergetelheidsrivieren, bergen en dalen en grotten bovendien.
Meestal wil ik ze doorgronden, maar soms?
Soms hou ook ik het voor gezien.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
two = water bottles ( 16oz size)
(1 cups - water)
★ 1/8 tsp - iodine (or one drop to 3 drops)
★ 1/8 tsp - salt (any)
★ two finger pinch of = borax
☆ (microwave + one Tbsp - water and the borax == 5 sec. stir )
★ two or three - Tbsp = Witch Hazel
★ opt - one drop = neem oil
★ opt - 1 tsp = Isopropyl alcohol
★ Measure cup - to pour in container
★ water bottle or container (old mouthwash bottle)
★ gentley shake
★ let sit overnight
☆ water down in one to two Tbsp + water with half cup water = use
☆ brush teeth
☆ brush tongue
☆ brush cheeks & gums
☆ gargle
Oct 19, 2024
Oct 19, 2024 at 11:07 PM UTC
Was crossing the road
It is not like crossing anything else
A Trailer
Might partition into pieces
Or a Hummer,
In a second, make one a nonentity
Or a tin can of a vehicle
Take away your hand or leg.
Even if your last wish,
In case you have to die in an automobile crash,
Is that it should be the red lancer car you are very fond of,
Which court will listen?
On the other side of the road, there is a neem tree
Its dark green leaves are visible.
No, cannot see the bitterness,
But it is possible it is.
I have to cross the road.
Then
I have to stand a bit under the green on the other side
Those birds have to run away (no, not fly!)
And come back just the way they went.
What then? It is, after all, the road that was crossed,
Which is something!
While crossing the road, came a Trailer
Whose driver was a Tamilian
A Hummer came,
In which there was a father, his friend,
Mother and two kids
The kid was singing loudly
The friend was thinking about his girl friend
A rickety old tin can of a vehicle too came
It was full of wine bottles
For the next century
What then?
Trailer was divided into many pieces
Hummer made one a nonentity in a second
The old vehicle took away two hands, one leg, and two ears.
Now the one who looks this way from the other side:
Is it the one who reached the other side,
Or the one who was standing here,
Or the one who crossed the road,
Or the one who has to return?
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 8:20 AM UTC
dis amper vyf jaar later.
jy drink nog saam my koffie in my bed tydens ons stiptelike afspraak -
op nostalgiese Sondae aande
wanneer die wêreld stilraak,
kort voor die week weer sy stophorlosie
aanpas.
die herinneringe tog só aanskoulik,
maar stééds kan ek myself nie bring om
jou stem te herroep nie!
voor ek jou kan vasgryp, weer saam jou kan lag
óf
my gesig sag teen jou bors kan vasdruk,
verdwyn jy,
en Skuld neem jou plek in tussen die lakens,
klink die koppie teen myne
gee ‘n grynslag
en sluk my heel in.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 1:47 PM UTC
I was walking in my backyard under cloudy skies
Cool breeze tangled in my hair
While chirping birds blessed my ears
My cats’ soft meows melted away my stress
A bitter neem leaf brushed against my head
Pomegranates hung heavy, feeding my little joys
Then the storm came,
Sudden, heavy, loud
Cats ran, neem bent, pomegranates burst
And my peaceful walk became an escape
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 9:33 AM UTC
A silent afternoon
Warm breeze through
my window
Short nap after lunch
Crying of the crows
Swirling of the fan
Neem leaves peeping in
To see me sleeping
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 6:29 AM UTC
Ini stilte vani nag
Terwyl di krieke sing
Fluister die slang
Dus ju laastes in ju eigene bed
Hy fluister direk na my vrees
Vrees onbeskryfbare vrees
X vul hu my kop di spanning neem
Hu verlang x vanaand vi ju
Soos woestyn na water
X ken my waarheid
X staan op my waarheid
Ma huveel struikelblokke voor da kom
Huveel spanning n gedagtes voor redding
My redder vertrou x op
Tot my laaste
Amen
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 3:10 AM UTC
Voor de Nederlandse dichters en kunstenaars onder ons: stuur me je instagram account, ik heb zin om nieuwe dingen te lezen 😊. Neem als je wilt ook een kijkje op mijn nieuwe account: @uniting.writing! Ik zie je daar!
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 6:33 PM UTC