Poems on Indian Independence Day

Indian Independence Day Poems

BEAUTY OF US

The shared existence of humans,
The culmination of society and it's norms,
The shaping of a sense of belonging,
The growing of a community,
That is the beauty of us.

Seeing ourselves as part of a larger whole,
Seeking to be one with culture and belief,
Striving to satisfy common goals,
Signifying our unity and purpose,
That is the beauty of us.

The sense of empathy and sympathy we feel,
The inclusion of all, no matter what ordeal,
The challenge of defining ourselves through one another,
The unison of every being's voice in the ether,
That is the beauty of us.

Finding the splendor in the flaws of society,
Feeling the beat of unity,
Flowing through the music of empathy,
Following the enticing charm and legacy,
That is the beauty of us.

- by Shaurya Ghanty
Standard 9, La Martiniere School, Kolkata

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The Tricolour Flies

Saffron for the brave who gave their all,
White for the peace that answers freedom's call,
Green for the fields where our future grows,
And the wheel in the centre, that ever onward goes.

High on the mast in the fifteenth-August sky,
Our three proud colours climb up ever so high;
The morning breeze lifts them, they ripple and gleam,
Stitched from the thread of a two-hundred-year dream.

Salute, little children, and stand up so tall,
For this flag is a gift that belongs to us all;
Won not with silver, nor purchased with gold,
But with courage and sacrifice, steadfast and bold.

So whenever you look at the Tricolour fly,
Remember the many who dared to ask "why?" —
Who marched and who waited, who hoped and who bled,
So that we could walk free where they fearlessly led.

- by The KidsGen Team

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Colourful India

Our's is a land of sages,
Known for bravery for ages.
None can with it compete,
Its culture none can beat.
Whatever caste or religion,
All live here in unison.
With rivers, sweet fountains,
it's a land of high mountains.
Its green forests are pretty,
And are source of prosperity.
Let's for it work hard,
For its safety, be on guard.

- by The KidsGen Team

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Fifteenth of August

Wake up, little sunbeam, it's freedom's own day,
Put on your best clothes and come out to play;
The school bell is ringing, the sweets are all made,
And soon we shall march in the Independence parade.

Up goes the flag as the whole nation sings,
The anthem floats gently on morning-cool wings;
A kite in the sky, cutting loops of pure joy,
Is freedom itself for each girl and each boy.

We think of the heroes with garland and prayer,
Of Gandhi and Bhagat and thousands elsewhere,
Who dreamed that one morning their land would be free —
And here is that morning, for you and for me!

So colour the sky in saffron and green,
The proudest, the brightest that ever was seen;
Salute to our India, so gentle, so grand,
The dearest, the fairest, our own motherland.

- by The KidsGen Team

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The Ones Who Made Us Free

Before the flag could climb the sky,
Before we learned the reason why,
There walked among us, brave and true,
The ones who dreamed this land for you.

Gandhi, who taught that gentle hands
Could shake the strongest iron bands;
Who marched to sea for a fistful of salt,
And made an empire stop and halt.

Bose, who called across the years,
"Give me your courage, not your fears!"
And Bhagat Singh, still young and bright,
Who gave his life to give us light.

Sarojini, whose songs took wing,
Rani Lakshmibai, warrior-queen;
And countless names we never knew,
Who bled so quiet skies turned blue.

We cannot pay the debt we owe,
But this one promise we can show:
To love this land, to keep it strong,
To carry on their freedom-song.

- by The KidsGen Team

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Classic Patriotic Poems of India

These beloved poems are treasured works of India's greatest poets. Each is in the public domain and has inspired freedom-loving hearts for over a hundred years.

Where the Mind is Without Fear

Where the mind is without fear
and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been
broken up into fragments by
narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from
the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches
its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason
has not lost its way into the dreary
desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee
into ever-widening thought and action—
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father,
let my country awake.

- by Rabindranath Tagore
(from Gitanjali, 1910)

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The Gift of India

Is there aught you need that my hands withhold,
Rich gifts of raiment or grain or gold?
Lo! I have flung to the East and the West
Priceless treasures torn from my breast,
And yielded the sons of my stricken womb
To the drum-beats of the duty, the sabres of doom.

Gathered like pearls in their alien graves
Silent they sleep by the Persian waves,
Scattered like shells on Egyptian sands,
They lie with pale brows and brave, broken hands,
They are strewn like blossoms mown down by chance
On the blood-brown meadows of Flanders and France.

- by Sarojini Naidu
(from The Broken Wing, 1917)

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Vande Mataram

Mother, I bow to thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
bright with orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Dark fields waving Mother of might,
Mother free.
Glory of moonlight dreams,
Over thy branches and lordly streams,
Clad in thy blossoming trees,
Mother, giver of ease
Laughing low and sweet!
Mother I kiss thy feet,
Speaker sweet and low!
Mother, to thee I bow.

- by Bankim Chandra Chatterjee
(English rendering by Sri Aurobindo, 1909)

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