Slowly you become

Slowly you become
Slowly you become a memory
and start to fade away
as each week that passes by
I''m starting to feel OK

i cared about you dearly
i treated you like gold
i waited for the same
but was left out in the cold

you were mean and selfish
you treated me like dirt
you dug deeper and deeper
just to get me hurt

after everything you did
your wish didn''t come true
you will always remain a memory
but never forget i actually loved you!
  

Jun, 17 2010     445 chars (3 sms)     2550 views       English Poetry

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At every sunset, I cry and plead
Slow and just living, and yet I bleed
With angst, do I cry, take me home.
Please take me away from this old age home.
On occasion we wonder what our purpose in life is,

We don’t listen to our inner voice, ignoring his.

Something inside propels us to act,

Yet we often fail to recognize it and simply don’t react.

Perhaps we have known all along,

But we are too afraid that we could be wrong.

We must take a chance on our given talent,

Each and every one of us can be valiant.

If we veer off track,

Something inside will pull us back.

Maybe it could be we are being tested,

So when our individual purpose becomes clear, it is not ignored or rejected.
I Will Love You Forever

I love you so deeply,
I love you so much,
I love the sound of your voice
And the way that we touch.
I love your warm smile
And your kind, thoughtful way,
The joy that you bring
To my life every day.
I love you today
As I have from the start,
And I''ll love you forever
With all of my heart.
"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
But human mind is often a monkey
It jumps and hops towards success and it''s key
As guinea pigs we go on and on
thru the tedious cycle of life rite from the time we were born
We never know our way nor our destination
But man goes on with God as prime stimulation
Realise that life isn''t constant dying and learn to honour fraternity
And indeed life is a "gift snatched frm eternity"
an’t remember anything
Can’t tell if this is true or dream
Deep down inside I feel to scream
This terrible silence stops me

Now that the war is through with me
I’m waking up I can not see
That there is not much left of me
Nothing is real but pain now

Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please god,wake me

Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please god,wake me
Now the world is gone I’m just one
Oh god,help me hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please God help me
V never have what v like,
V never like what v have,
Still v live,luv,n hope that sum day v’ll get what v luv,
Or luv what v have.
That’s life!!!
Beloved''s Manifestation

One who is eager for love,
the beloved''s manifestation is in his soul.

In his existence there is the sign,
in his bones, marrow, and blood.

Is the beloved a houri or a human?
Venus, the sun, or the moon?

My beloved, in short,
is neither from the earth, nor from the sky.

Day by day my beloved''s beauty becomes more elegant.
Moment by moment I become more saddened.

My beloved is closer to me than myself,
Yet, I don''t know where my beloved is.

One who has reason and knowledge,
becomes intimate with someone of his kind.

I, helpless and Majnun-like,
have become accustomed to the desert.
As I look outside I see the breeze
Caress the leaves from the trees
And carry them to all around
Gently laid upon the ground
I see the birds so high above
Their songs sing of our special love
And laid upon their soft sweet wing
Your love to me they gently bring
And as they start their graceful descent
Delivering a message that’s heaven sent
One thing I know and will hold so dear
When I see them fly I will feel you near
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.
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.
The Sweetest words ever said
by a lover to his love:
I am jealous of the people you ever hugged,
because for a moment they held my world!