One has become

One has become Moses and has seen the Beloved on Mount Sinai.
One, like Jesus, has seen the Beloved while crucified.

One has seen in the dark, another in the light.
Each person has a different path to the Friend’s neighborhood.

One becomes like soil, and kisses the threshold.
Another becomes fervent then flutters.

One, like Mazun, makes his chest a shield,
seeking the arrow of love.

Jun, 18 2010 399 chars (3 sms) 2922 views English Poetry

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I FOUND YOU

I FOUND YOU
Love can be,
found in the wormth of a kiss,in a touch
or a lingering embrace….
Love can be
found in a sweet,tender glance or a
smile that laughts up the face…
Love can be
found in words softly spoken,in
comfertable silence too….
Love can be
found in any number of ways…
And I FOUND LOVE
when…..

“I FOUND YOU” I FOUND YOU
Love can be,
found in the wormth of a kiss,in a touch
or a lingering embrace….
Love can be
found in a sweet,tender glance or a
smile that laughts up the face…
Love can be
found in words softly spoken,in
comfertable silence too….
Love can be
found in any number of ways…
And I FOUND LOVE
when…..

“I FOUND YOU”

It''s a human sign

It''s a human sign
When things go wrong
When the scent of her lingers
And temptation''s strong

Into the boundary
Of each married man
Sweet deceit comes calling
And negativity lands

Cold cold heart
Hard done by you
Some things look better baby
Just passing through

And it''s no sacrifice
Just a simple word
It''s two hearts living
In two separate worlds
But it''s no sacrifice
No sacrifice
It''s no sacrifice at all

October''s The Month

"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

I stand at the edge

I stand at the edge straight as a board
Overwhelmed by my fears my desires ignored
I reach out my hands only to hold myself back
My mind racing sorting fiction from fact
My head lifts and eyes brighten when I hear you call
Still I remain motionless, I don''t wanna fall

I''m afraid, but what exactly am I afraid of?
My heart shutters at the thought of falling in love
Overcome by fear I remain completely still
My emotions can''t deepen if I refuse to feel
Once again my name escapes from your lips
I feel the gentle brush of your sweet fingertips

On occasion we

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.

When they come

When they come to me, all I see is your face
When they start to speak your voice takes their place
It''s a voice that promises to always be there
No matter what they say, I know you still care
Always and Forever is what this means to me

Where do you run

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

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.

I roam by day

I roam by day, in search of shady trees
In between these huge palaces of stone
A shady place to sleep time and sun away
and then return to that old cold stone.
And to dream, looking at the mocking stars.

The sun slowly peeps at me, smiling
and I naughtily show my back to him
The world starts running around quickly
And tries to wake me up, but in vain
All I know and have, is my sleep galore.

These few lines, for those homeless friends, who sleep on the streets, these few lines, for our helplessness on seeing them. These few lines for their prayers and our reasons.

You can shed tears

“You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she''ll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she''s left.
Your heart can be empty because you can''t see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she''d want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”

I didn’t decide to

I didn’t decide to carry the load of sorrow,
sorrow existed, this house of sorrow also existed.

I didn’t lift the Jam-e Jam to drink wine,
wine existed, this house of wine also was there.

It is said: "He who created the house of love,
let the beloved burn and the lover burnt."

The cruelty of the red rose, and the cry of the nightingale—
the candle existed, and this moth also existed.

One’s pain is too much, another’s little,
one’s heart is afflicted, another’s smiles.

if one day you

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.

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One has become

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