Your feeling is depressed

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",

Jun, 18 2010 605 chars (4 sms) 3224 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... ;->

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.

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.

Daffodils

The waves beside them danced, but they

....Out-did the sparkling waves in glee;

A poet could not but be gay,

...In such a jocund company:

I gazed--and gazed--but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

...In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

...Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

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.)

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.

Fears wash away

Fears wash away from one single touch
Longing to be closer so to your waist I clutch
I shuffle my feet closer to the edge
Fears resurfacing, I can''t fall from this ledge
But then you take my hand into yours, what a sensation!
I peer over the edge for a look at sweet temptation

To Keep suppressing this feeling is to keep telling lies
I don''t feel frightened when you look into my eyes
I lean over the edge just a little more
I hear you call my name again just like before
If I should let go and fall from this ledge above
Tell me, will you reach out and catch me if I fall in love?

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.

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.”

On your knee

On your knee, in the lamplight,
dipping buttered toast in your coffee,
I hear the hush of the silent house.
The other children gone off to school,
you and I sit together
alone in the dim morning light,
full of love and trust,
chattering to one another about
simple times with unfurrowed brows.
We were so close then.
I hold that memory in my mind
like an old black and white photograph
one would carry in a wallet, worn soft
from years of riding in a back pocket,
a photo
showing the ones you love,
the most beautiful mother,
the best loved and dearest held,
the treasured one--
to be shown far from home.

A life of dreams to

A life of dreams to yet unfold.
Each passing day as we grow old.
We are but one, as we learn to walk Still,
very little as we start to talk.
By the age of five, to school we go,
To learn much more that we don''t know.
As we hit ten, our world''s the books;
Just turn the page and take a look...

Across skies

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

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Your feeling is depressed

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