Majnun is drunk from

Majnun is drunk from
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.
  

Jun, 18 2010     503 chars (4 sms)     3028 views       English Poetry

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Silent Words Across A Screen.
How Could They Mean So Much To Me.
I Promised Myself I Would Not Cry.
Then A Silent Tear Falls From My Eye.

What Did I Do, What Did I Say,
To Make You Change Your Mind, The Day You Went Away.
Everyday, Waiting For A Sign
To Let Me Know, You Might Still Want To Be Mind.

Andother Day Comes And Goes,
I Want To Write, But I Can''t, I Know.
You Said You Needed Me More Than I Needed You,
Why Would You Say That, If You Knew It Wasn''t True?

Why Did You Say You Loved Me?
Then Turn Around And Set Me Free?
I Love You And Want You,
But I Know I Can''t Make You Love Me.
Whn dere''s no frend
Whn lyf is on d dead end
Whn world isn''t a paradise
Whn ur confidence dies
Tell urself
"Go On, This Is LIFE"

Whn things dn''t go right
Whr dere''s no ray of lite
And its too hard to survive
Tell urself
"Go On, This Is LIFE"

Whn other dn''t respect u
Whn u r nt amongst d admirable few
Whn for a question, u can''t find a solution
Whn u r sure abt, is confusion
Tell urself
"Go On, This Is LIFE"

Whn ur destination is miles apart
Whn u dn''t knw whr to start
Whn all u c around in pain
Whn ur hardwork is in vain
Tell urself
"Go On, This Is LIFE"
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.
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.
The past time has
departed, so that it no
longer is; and the future is
not in existence,
in that it has not yet
arrived. And even the
present is not... in that it
does not abide. For see-
ing that the present does
not stand fast, and does
not abide even for an in-
stant, how can it be said
to be present, when it
cannot stand fast for one
moment?
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...
Pain ! Pain ! Pain


so positive is your poetry !


Meena

Doesn''t really matter
My heart wont shatter
What if I am alone

------Clap !
Laugh so hard that even
sorrow smiles at u!
Live life so well that even
death loves to see u live!
Fight so hard that even
fate accepts its defeat.
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 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.
It used to be life was one big dream
and the time we spent together
got me through each day

Then my days grew dark
and my dream faded away,
cause now you are gone
and once again I''m left all alone

You broke my heart like no one
else could ever do and you lied,
still I had faith and I trusted you

Even though now our love
has came to an end
I know in my heart that you''ll
pass and I''ll love again.
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.