Each Person Has A

Each Person Has A
Each Person Has A Different Path To The Friend’s Neighborhood

We exchanged reason for love.
Everybody is a buyer of a different good.

The mystic’s design and mark is distinct,
A different bazaar, a different shop.

It’s a different journey, a distinct world.
It’s different from this world and the other world.

Those on the land are unaware of those in the air.
A good from Ethiopia is different from one from Central Asia.

One who is in the sea is ignorant of some one who is in the desert.
Everybody is the king of his own city.
  

Jun, 18 2010     549 chars (4 sms)     3429 views       English Poetry

more English Poetry SMS Messages

I don''t think you will
ever fully understand
how you''ve touched my life
and made me who I am.

I don''t think you could ever know
just how truly special you are
that even on the darkest nights
you are my brightest star.

I don''t think you will ever fully comprehend
how you''ve made my dreams come true
or how you''ve opened my heart
to love and the wonders it can do.

You''ve allowed me to experience
something very hard to find
unconditional love that exists
in my body, soul, and mind.

I don''t think you could ever feel
all the love I have to give
and I''m sure you''ll never realize
you''ve been my will to live.

You are an amazing person
and without you I don''t know where I''d be.
Having you in my life
completes and fulfills every part of me.
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.
A Little Act Of,
***Kindness***
Can Fill A Heart with
****Joy****
***Eid Mubarik***
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.

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.
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 dive down the sea
To get u a pearl
Its enchanting beauty caught me
When it was lying inside its shell
I picked it up just for you
But when I saw the shell it was all
Alone
Its majestic ness was lost
Its beauty was caught
I got back to present it to you
But found there nobody waiting for me
I felt just the same as the shell
I lost my pearl n I was same
Nothing without u just nothing. . . . .
Daydream

Whenever I day dream,
and day dream I do,
in my secret garden,
I day dream of you.

I day dream of you,
in a faraway land;
embracing me tight
and holding my hand.

Holding my hand,
and touching my face.
Just you and me,
in this peaceful place.

In this peaceful place
a pristine river flows.
Where the unicorns run,
a breeze always blows.

A breeze always blows
and sings of a song;
our love in a place
where you''re never gone.

Where you''re never gone
is as it would seem,
from dusk until dawn,
whenever I day dream.

And whenever I day dream,
and day dream I do,
in my secret garden,
I day dream of you.
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.
Even if the candles fade away
and winds of silence start blowin
and rotten leaves start to
embrace ur coffin
and roses that lay by ur grave
begin to wither petal after petal
Even if the clouds passing by
shed their tears in blind agony
and even the stars
that we used to see together
that sparkeled our love
begin to glimmer
like as if they were never there
even if the suns of happiness
leave the evenings of ur heart
and the autumns of death
triumph the valleys of ur life
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?
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.