The past time has

The past time has
The past time has
departed, so that it no
longer is; and the future is
not in existence,
in that it has not yet
arrived. And even the
present is not... in that it
does not abide. For see-
ing that the present does
not stand fast, and does
not abide even for an in-
stant, how can it be said
to be present, when it
cannot stand fast for one
moment?
  

Jun, 17 2010     362 chars (3 sms)     3835 views       English Poetry

more English Poetry SMS Messages

Why

Oh God, one cannot argue with you, but,
why did you throw us in the fire of love?

You formed us with your power, and water and clay.
Why did you create the moon-like beauties?

You made eyebrows into pens, and locks of hair into lassos.
You made sugar-water limpid from sweet lips.

If you wanted me not to become afflicted and degraded,
why did you create lovesick girls?

If you wanted submission and prayers,
you would not have given beauties coquetry and coyness.

If false love is a sin,
why did you make drunkard eyes drunk?

The sweet laughter—I didn’t love in vain.
I didn’t graft reason onto love.

She pulls me, she pulls me with her lasso-like braid.
How could I be separated from her ambergris-scented hair?

Peris, lovely, tall beauties –
Mazun won’t refuse if they want his soul.

I’ve put my head in their path.
My head’s bad luck is because of my tongue.
if one day you feel like crying...
call me.
i dont promise you that i will male you laugh,
but i can cry with you.

if one day you want to run away....
dont be a afraid to call me.
i dont promise to ask you to stay,
but i can run with you..

if one day you dont want to listen to anybody,
call me...

i promise to be very quiet.

but
if one day you call me
and there is no answer....

come fast to see me,
perhaps i need you.
"October''s The Month
When The Smallest Breeze
Gives Us A Shower
Of Autumn Leaves.
Bonfires And Pumpkins,
Leaves Sailing Down -
October Is Red
And Golden And Brown."
- Can Teach Songs

"Listen! The Wind Is Rising,
And The Air Is Wild With Leaves,
We Have Had Our Summer Evenings,
Now For October Eves!"
- Humbert Wolfe
some say love it is a river,
that drowns the tender reed.
some say love it is a razor,
that leaves ur soul to bleed.
some say love it is a hunger,
an endless aching need.
BUT !!
i say love it is a flower,
n u r its only seed.
can you see it in my eyes??

you dont knw how i m feelin
i have yet to vocalize
desire deep inside me
can you see it in my eyes??
i tremble when i m near you
heat travels up my thighs..and i want you with an urgency
that i just cant descirbe
dare i reachout to touch you ..do u think you''d realize
how much i want n need u
can you see it in my eyes
i long to say i luv u
but am scared of ur reply
terrified like a child
i have become paralaysed
the camaouflaged emotions lead to pain n slient cries
and yet i just cant tell u..
dont you see it in my eyes??
confessin through dis poem
my dilemma summarized
Do You Remember?

Handsome, your beauty surpasses other beauties.
Write, let me know how you are doing, peri.

Everybody did, what happens if I do?
Describing your charm in this gathering, peri?

Your breasts are like marble. Your alef-like stature resembles spruce.
Around your flower-like face, curl to curl, is ambergris scented hair.

You’d sleep and I’d stay all night till dawn,
Guarding your assets and riches, peri.

The day I fell in love with your moon-like charm.
I found that my incurable pain had no remedy.

Do you remember, I was saying: Dawn, Dawn?
Praying no ruin falls on you, peri?
Are you still mine?
Cause there many...
Fantasies thoughts going through my head,
As all I do is think of you...
As I''ve hungered,
For your loving burning touch,
As I need your love so badly,
Now till the end of time,
I am waiting for you with open arms
To embrace you with wings of love,
To hold you deep within my soul,
To kiss you without control.
Just being near you,
And be able to behold your touch,
Takes me to another dimension,
But, time just moving so slowly,
To feel the heat of your passions.
I do want you to know...
I will always love you,
That you are all I have ever long for,
And crave, and yearn...
That you are the ANGEL of my dreams,
The one I have search all my life,
That every day, more and more,
I''m falling deeply in love with you!
love you
and i tried 3 years but i..
i need sometime to be for real
and i know its killing you
to be without me now
it was bound to happen sometime

i just hate to be the one
to break your heart and tear your world apart
it feels bad but feels good
watching you away from me
i dont wanna hurt yah!
its for our own goodd
i miss you and i love you goodbye..
Who Is Here? Who Is There?

In the Garden, when the autumn wind blows,
In the bird’s voice there is wailing and lamentation.

In the lovesick nightingale’s song there is a call,
with a different effect, a different mark.

Still, the nightingale is yearning for the love of the flower.
Still, the salamander is nesting in the oven.

Still, Mansur is hanging on the gallows.
He says: “I’m the Truth,” yet the secret (truth) is hidden.

Still, Zulaykha is not afraid of rebuke.
Still, Yusuf is evading Zulaykha.

Still, the Christian maiden is breaching Sheikh San’an''s faith.
Still, the Sheikh is tending her swine.
Where do you run in such a hurry?
To the embracing arms of god,
Or to relish a feast, spread by the lord
Is there someone there to ferry?
To another bank of this mad river.

"Going Home", you say, and I stare
"What is home?", I''ve never known
"What do you do there?", I seek by my own
"It`s night!, I am going to sleep"
I died in laughter that day and my life long.

Slept, I have all this life, right here
On this solid ground, slept in peace.
No lack of mirth, in my hungry soul
No lack of bruises, on my lonely body
And, Slept I have in peace, right here.

"Why on the streets?", you demand to know
"Help yourselves", you seem to say
"Why, Where and How?", my eyes plead
Do you have the time to show me the way?
Poor Helpless soul, you simply walk away.
Because of you I chose exile,
I’ve been estranged from my tribe for some time.

I watered my flower with my tears,
Injustice! Don’t take me away from my flower.

There’s nothing wrong if a king wants a pauper,
If a pauper desires a king, he can’t help it.

My desire is too high; my luck is too low,
There is no cure for this pain but death.

What’s with the melancholic ascetic?
He argues with me about faith and religion.

The religion of the lover is the beloved.
I’m taking no path but my own.