When they come

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
  

Jun, 18 2010     241 chars (2 sms)     2299 views       English Poetry

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The Sweetest words ever said
by a lover to his love:
I am jealous of the people you ever hugged,
because for a moment they held my world!
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... ;->
You are friendly, kind and caring
Sensitive, loyal and understanding
Humorous, fun, secure and true
Always there... yes that''s you.

Special, accepting, exciting and wise
Truthful and helpful, with honest blue eyes
Confiding, forgiving, cheerful and bright
Yes that''s you... not one bit of spite.

You''re one of a kind, different from others
Generous, charming, but not one that smothers
Optimistic, thoughtful, happy and game
But not just another... in the long chain.

Appreciative, warm and precious like gold
Our friendship won''t tarnish or ever grow old
You''ll always be there, I know that is true
I''ll always be here... always for 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.
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
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.
As I walk through the valley
of the shadow of LA
The footsteps that were next to me
have gone their separate ways
I''ve seen enough now
to know that beautiful things
don''t always stay that way
I''ve done enough now
to know this beautiful place
isn''t everything they say
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?
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.
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.
THE WAY TOU MAKE ME FEEL. . .


You make me feel special,
You make me feel new,
You make me feel loved,
With everything you do.

You hold me close when I am sad.
You wipe the tears from my face.
Every time we are together,
It seems like the perfect place.

My eyes light up when you enter a room.
I smile when we are together.
No matter how bad things are,
You always make them better.

I love the way you kiss me,
The way you hold me tight.
I love the way you touch me,
I could be with you all night.

I love the way you can make me laugh
For absolutely no reason at all.
I love how no matter what I do,
You will be there to catch me when I fall.

I just want you to know,
That even though we sometimes fight,
I will always love you!
No matter what, day or night.
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.