Life taught me

Life taught me
Life taught me many things,
Some sweet moments some bitter ones,
Some I remember some I forgot,
But what remained always was our precious friendship.
  

Jun, 17 2010     153 chars (1 sms)     2895 views       English Poetry

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Majnun is drunk from love, and Layla is drunk from coyness.
The mountain existed and this madman also existed.

The eyes of beauties were drunken and murderous.
Her tongue was like sugar, and her lips the confectioner.

The suffering boy and the loving girl existed,
the tyrant father and miser mother were also there.

That teasing that breaches faith,
the arrow of coy that pierces the soul,


It was not that Mazun was targeted last night,
the arrow was there and the target was there.
Every normal person has 72 heart beats, but for myself its 73. the extra 1 is ur smile. So don’t stop ur smile, it will affect my heart.. Keep Smiling
Your feeling is depressed... You always seem to be depressed and cry easily. You
are a bit (ok, more than a bit) over
emotional and are too sensitive. You rarely
smile, and when you do, it''s very weak...
your eyes always seem to be misty and though
others have tried to console you of your
sorrow in the past, no one can seem to get
through to you that there''s more to life than
being sad. No no one seems to hang around you
anymore which makes you feel worse, and you
feel as you''re loved by no one except maybe
your family. People might see you as the
"girl who doesn''t talk to anyone",
I Cry
Sometimes When I''m Alone
I Cry,
Cause I Am On My Own.
The Tears I Cry Are Bitter And Warm.
They Flow With Life But Take No Form
I Cry Because My Heart Is Torn.
I Find It Difficult To Carry On.

If I Had An Ear To Confiding,
I Would Cry Among My Treasured Friend,
But Who Do You Know That Stops That Long,
To Help Another Carry On.


The World Moves Fast And It Would Rather Pass By.
Then To Stop And See What Makes One Cry,
So Painful And Sad.
And Sometimes…
I Cry
And No One Cares About Why.
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.
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.
My love for you is simple, deep, and strong.
I feel it flowing towards you from my heart,
A tide of unsophisticated song,
Sung with much desire and little art.
I cannot tell my love, but it will show
In ways that even I cannot foresee;
A love as full as mine must overflow
Into everything that makes me, me.
Just as the sun must shine to be the sun
And trees burst forth in blossom every year,
So I must love in ways that everyone
Can see or sense or reason out or hear.
Still, I''ll tell you of my love in this:
For fear, despite all, you might my love miss.
Across skies, the sun starts to limn
Waking up to a morning hymn
Roosters’ crow and sparrows tweet
In deep slumber, an alarm sweet

Strumming upon the leafy ground
Sweepers crafting a hip sound
Coffee poured and buckets filled
Streams gurgling, dreams fulfilled.

In the kitchen, vessels clang and fall
At a crescendo, milkman starts to call
Telephones ring, radio springs alive
Joggers pant, in harmony all dive.

As the band plays, starts all festivity
From stillness of night, a sudden levity
To awaken me, do thy make all the fuss
In pure merriment, I wake up thus

Fill my ears again, before I yawn
Haunt with visuals of a glorious Eon
From morning dew, a lesson reborn
Learn and listen to symphony at dawn
The sparkle in your eye,
The warmth of your skin.
Your breath on my neck,
That quivers within.

The touch of your hand,
The smell of your hair.
The kindness in your smile,
That strength in your stare.

Your kiss on my lips,
Your body near mine.
The stroke of your touch,
That feeling inside.

The sound of your voice,
Compassion in your embrace.
The serenity in your stride,
The power in your face.

The calming of your presence,
The beating of your heart.
The promise of tomorrow,
That we may never part.

The beauty of your kiss,
and that magic in your touch.
It is for all these reasons and more,
Why I love you so much.
I fight 4 d unconventional
as ma lyf is very unconditional
i''ld try 2 b as real as i can
my disadvantage is, i neva knew d plan
i suffered alot buh still i fight
doesn''t matter i win or lose,atleast i tried
at d end ov d day, u just knw 1 thing
tht if u gt sum1,u''ve gt everything
u think tht sum1 is d world, d lyf, ur aim
buh mayb u r wrong ven lyf plays d game
dono,ve u identified me, ma lyfstyle, ma tone?
d thing tht i c is um just alone, awl alone!!!
lukin 4 d future,observing present,faced d past
u dnt gt wt u want, as d lyf passes by so fast!!
Like the small flowers of green thick hills
With fragrance, did her words; bloom
Wild yet passionate in love, are the tribal''s
So was hers, for them and theirs

Sad was her heart, at the jungle''s ruin
Starved was her pen, of any words
To the children, she lent a voice, therein
To save the jungle, her poetry and birds

While planting seeds, with hope they croon
Cast your magic, of life, dearest monsoon
As the clouds poured, and lent some life
To life, the jungle sprang, and they all sang

Like the mother herself, she nursed and cared
Days later, the deers came smiling
For lifetimes, shall the tribals sing, her praise
Her story of life, her pen; still flowing.
A wonderful romance……a fairy tale…….
Matching interests and passionate songs…….
Endless talks and common visions………
Dreamy eyes and sleepless nights……..
Amorous hearts and restless minds ……
Engrossed lovers and teaser chums……
An impetuous proposal and a bedazzled yes….
A home of dreams and a castle in sand……
A bunch of promises and a series of vows……
A tidal wave and a gust of wind…..
An angry thunder and a furious storm…..
A misty vision and a shadowed trail…..
A clouded sky and a moonless night…..
A crash in the rocks and a shattered ship……
Two casualties and a zillion audience….