Poems About Brothers for Bhai Dooj | English Poems

Poems About Brothers | Sibling Poems
Poems About Brothers | Sibling Poems

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Significance of Bhai Dooj and Poems About Brothers

Festivals and poems about brothers: The period from September to October is special in the Hindu tradition. Right from Vijaya Dashmi to Diwali, Govardhan Pooja, Bhai Dooj, Chath, and Dev Dipawali, all these age-old festivals of light, hope, and prosperity are celebrated in this period. While there is so much to ponder upon about these celebrations, at Mukarrar, we like to find the poetic angle associated with these festivals. Recently, we published the curated collection of Hindi Poems on Diwali and Urdu Poems on Diwali. With Bhai Dooj, just round the corner, we bring to you an exclusive selection of poems about brothers.

P.S. In our next post, we are curating a collection of poems about brothers in Hindi and Urdu. We are hopeful you’ll like it too! Keep watching this space.

Bhai Dooj or Bhaiya Dooj, Bhau Beej, Bhai Tika or Bhai Phonta, as it is known popularly, is a festival about the bond between a brother and his sister. Much like Raksha Bandhan, sisters tie a sutra or a red thread around the brother’s hand. Like all other festivals, poems have been written about Bhai Dooj as well. Poems capture the essence of a festival and it’s true spirit like no other medium. While this collection of poems about brothers is not exactly on Bhai Dooj, it is about the bond between siblings. Share these poems or excerpts if you would like to express your love to your sibling a little differently.

List of Poets who have written poems about brothers and sisters

  1. Two Set Out On Their Journey

    By Galway Kinnell

  2. We Are Seven

    By William Wordsworth

  3. Brother and Sister

    By Lewis Carroll

  4. To My Brothers

    By John Keats

  5. None Lives Forever, Brother (The Gardener LXVIII)

    By Rabindranath Tagore

Two Set Out On Their Journey | Galway Kinnell | Poems About Brothers

We sit side by side,

brother and sister, and read

the book of what will be, while a breeze

blows the pages over—
desolate odd, cheerful even,

and otherwise. When we come

to our own story, the happy beginning,

the ending we don’t know yet,

the ten thousand acts

encumbering the days between,

we will read every page of it.

If an ancestor has pressed

a love-flower for us, it will lie hidden

between pages of the slow going,

where only those who adore the story

ever read.
When the time comes

to shut the book and set out,

we will take childhood’s laughter

as far as we can into the days to come,

until another laughter sounds back

from the place where our next bodies

will have risen and will be telling

tales of what seemed deadly serious once,

offering to us oldening wayfarers
the light heart, now made of time

and sorrow, that we started with.

We Are Seven | William Wordsworth | Poems About Brothers

A simple child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
—Her beauty made me glad.

“Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?”
“How many? Seven in all,” she said,
And wondering looked at me.

“And where are they? I pray you tell.”
She answered, “Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.

“Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the churchyard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother.”

“You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be.”

Then did the little maid reply,
“Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard tree.”

“You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five.”

“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”
The little maid replied,
“Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,
And they are side by side.

My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.

And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

“The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.

“So in the churchyard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.

“And when the ground was white with snow
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side.”

“How many are you, then,” said I,
“If they two are in heaven?”
Quick was the little maid’s reply,
“O master! we are seven.”

“But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!”
‘Twas throwing words away; for still
The little maid would have her will,
And said, “Nay, we are seven!”

Brother And Sister | Lewis Carroll | Poems About Brothers

This poem, Brother and Sister by Lewis Carroll couldn’t be more aptly titled. Even though, there seems nothing special about this title in the first glance, it is indeed the most befitting title to poem about brothers and sisters. We’ve all been in this situation where we wanted to break the heads of our siblings. Lewis Carroll has captured such a daily routine and weaved it into a beautiful poem. This remains one of my favourite despite the utter simplicity of its structure. Enjoy this beautiful work and share it with with your sibling too.

“SISTER, sister, go to bed!
Go and rest your weary head.”
Thus the prudent brother said.

“Do you want a battered hide,
Or scratches to your face applied?”
Thus his sister calm replied.

“Sister, do not raise my wrath.
I’d make you into mutton broth
As easily as kill a moth”

The sister raised her beaming eye
And looked on him indignantly
And sternly answered, “Only try!”

Off to the cook he quickly ran.
“Dear Cook, please lend a frying-pan
To me as quickly as you can.”

And wherefore should I lend it you?”
“The reason, Cook, is plain to view.
I wish to make an Irish stew.”

“What meat is in that stew to go?”
“My sister’ll be the contents!”
“You’ll lend the pan to me, Cook?”

To My Brothers | John Keats | Poems About Brothers

Small, busy flames play through the fresh-laid coals,
And their faint cracklings o’er our silence creep
Like whispers of the household gods that keep
A gentle empire o’er fraternal souls.
And while for rhymes I search around the poles,
Your eyes are fixed, as in poetic sleep,
Upon the lore so voluble and deep,
That aye at fall of night our care condoles.
This is your birthday, Tom, and I rejoice
That thus it passes smoothly, quietly:
Many such eves of gently whispering noise
May we together pass, and calmly try
What are this world’s true joys,—ere the great Voice
From its fair face shall bid our spirits fly.

None Lives Forever, Brother | Rabindranath Tagore | Poems About Brothers

None lives for ever, brother, and
nothing lasts for long.
Keep that in mind and rejoice.
Our life is not the one old burden,
our path is not the one long journey.
One sole poet has not to sing one
aged song.
The flower fades and dies; but he
who wears the flower has not to
mourn for it for ever.
Brother, keep that in mind and
There must come a full pause to
weave perfection into music.
Life droops toward its sunset to be
drowned in the golden shadows.
Love must be called from its play
to drink sorrow and be borne to the
heaven of tears.
Brother, keep that in mind and
We hasten to gather our flowers lest
they are plundered by the passing
It quickens our blood and brightens
our eyes to snatch kisses that would
vanish if we delayed.
Our life is eager, our desires are keen,
for time tolls the bell of parting.
Brother, keep that in mind and
There is not time for us to clasp a
thing and crush it and fling it away to
the dust.
The hours trip rapidly away, hiding
their dreams in their skirts.
Our life is short; it yields but a
few days for love.
Were it for work and drudgery it
would be endlessly long.
Brother, keep that in mind and
Beauty is sweet to us, because she
dances to the same fleeting tune with
our lives.
Knowledge is precious to us, because
we shall never have time to
complete it.
All is done and finished in the eternal
But earth’s flowers of illusion are
kept eternally fresh by death.
Brother, keep that in mind and

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If you liked this post, do not forget to share it with your siblings. Trust us, these beautiful verses and captivating poetic images are sure to let your sibling love soar high. Thank you for reading these poems about brothers.

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