i sit in the park

i sit in the park where i dwell,
for this girl i love so well.
she took my heart away from me,
now she wants to set me free.

i see a boy on her lap,
she says things to him she never said to me.
i ran home to cry on my bed,
not a word to mother was said.

father came home late that night,
he looked at me from left to right.
he saw me hanging from rope,
he took his knife to cut me down,
and on my dress a note was found.

dig my grave,dig it deep.
dig my grave, from head to feet.
and on the top place a dobe.
and remember this, i did for love.

Jun, 18 2010 576 chars (4 sms) 3276 views English Poetry

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It is Love

It is Love
that gives me purpose
to change and grow and learn.
It is Love that guides me on this path
and helps me choose each turn.

It is Love
that gives me courage
to stand against my fears;
to open up my heart to you,
to let you see my tears.

It is Love
that gives me trust and hope
when little thing go wrong.
When distance stands between us,
it is Love that keeps me strong.

It is Love
that offers harmony
and a friendship that is true.
How wonderful that I can share
a Love like this with you... ;->

love you and i tried

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..

What Is, Is In Love

What Is, Is In Love (S6)

I’m a moth circling the light of the beloved’s face.
Give me your soul-nourishing hand, and nothing else.

If my body is cut from head to toe,
Every joint is love’s abode, and nothing else.

When the drum of “Am I not your Lord?” was beaten,
to test the friend from the enemy,
when the Friend asked, He heard His answer:
I said the name of love, and nothing else.

(Carl’s English poetic experiment:
I said “trouble!” but that’s
love, and nothing else.)

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.

~*~ OLD MEMORIES ~*~

~*~ OLD MEMORIES ~*~

I treasure sweet old memories
As the time goes swiftly by
A few bring smiles of happiness
And some tears to the eye

They all r precious in their way
Reopening the door of old
That have been shut these many years
What pictures they unfold

These dear old, sweet old memories
All play their special part
In bringing joy and opening up
The latch strings of the heart ... (:->

Beloved''s Manifestation

One lover is roaring.
He is eager to see a shining face.

Another is distressed,
keen to see her lustrous hair.

Another desires his lover’s breasts.
Describes them as ripe pomegranates,
Hails them improperly,
Praises apples of Isfahan.

One lover says: "My beloved is going away.
My liver''s blood became my wine.
From my cry the world became deaf.
Is this friend in the grinding mill?"

Mine is above all others'' loves.
He is dear, a husband to widows.

He knows everything,
whether the meaning or the expression.

The light of his candle doesn''t vanish.
He is the beloved, I''m the lover.

He is the ocean, Mazun the fish,
How wonderful, what an endless sea he is.

SmiLiNg Is NoT

SmiLiNg Is NoT My ReAliTy,
ThIs Is HoW I PrEtEnD To Be,
By NiGhT I CrY MySeLf To SlEeP,
WiD My GoD FrOwNiNg At Me,
DrOwnInG In A FlOoD Of TeArS,
BuT TeArs Are My DeStInY,
My ViSiOn A BlUr As I FuLLFiLL,
AnD ThIs Is HoW I MeAnT To Be,
My LiFe UnWoRthY,
My SelF To KiLL,
ExIsTeNcE A ToRtUrE I MuSt EnDurE,
As U RegArDeD SuiCiDe As SiN,
I M NoT AgAiNsT U My HeArt Is PuRe,
FaTe Is MoCkInG WiTh An EviL GriN,
SuRrOuNDeD In A BlAcK NeSs So DeEp,
I WaLk,I SeE But SuRvIvE No MoRe,
I M DeAd InSiDe,
In DaRkNeSs WeEp,
YoU KnoW I LoVe U,
LIkE EvEr BeFoRe,
FoRgIvE Me As In My GrAvE I LaY,
FrEe Me oF ThiS PaIn AnD LeT Me DiE,
I JuSt CaNT BaRe It AnY MoRe:''(

Today when I signed

Today when I signed online,
I was happy and pleased to see.
That in my incoming mail,
Was a letter from you to me.
I love the mails you send me
And all of the giggles too!
But the biggest thrill of all,
Was seeing it came from you.
Now we don''t talk that much
So letters and cards say it all.
But I want you to know they''re special
No matter how big or small.
So keep the e-mail coming
I love it ever so much.
And know its really appreciated,
Whenever you keep in touch!
Miss U

The past

The past
is an archive of events
even when I die,
you turn back your neck
and I''ll eternally
have what came
before

and there''s somewhere
somewhere a man
singing softly
unique and parched
it''s all the pain
holding her
in my arms

Vessel to the words
he can''t see before
before the chords

Maddened by a red sun
skeptical
going on through this
and behind
a wagging tail
the sands continue
to sift

A little past
the way we were
And then, by that
will always be...!!!

The sweet laughter

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.

This is True Luv

This is True Luv:
I don''t care how many
lips u''ve kissed, how
many shoulders u''ve
embraced & how many
times u''ve said,I Luv U!
All I care is not b d first
but to be ur last!

Who Is Here? Who Is There?

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.

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i sit in the park

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