Like the small

Like the small
Like the small flowers of green thick hills
With fragrance, did her words; bloom
Wild yet passionate in love, are the tribal''s
So was hers, for them and theirs

Sad was her heart, at the jungle''s ruin
Starved was her pen, of any words
To the children, she lent a voice, therein
To save the jungle, her poetry and birds

While planting seeds, with hope they croon
Cast your magic, of life, dearest monsoon
As the clouds poured, and lent some life
To life, the jungle sprang, and they all sang

Like the mother herself, she nursed and cared
Days later, the deers came smiling
For lifetimes, shall the tribals sing, her praise
Her story of life, her pen; still flowing.
  

Jun, 18 2010     687 chars (5 sms)     3782 views       English Poetry

more English Poetry SMS Messages

A wonderful romance……a fairy tale…….
Matching interests and passionate songs…….
Endless talks and common visions………
Dreamy eyes and sleepless nights……..
Amorous hearts and restless minds ……
Engrossed lovers and teaser chums……
An impetuous proposal and a bedazzled yes….
A home of dreams and a castle in sand……
A bunch of promises and a series of vows……
A tidal wave and a gust of wind…..
An angry thunder and a furious storm…..
A misty vision and a shadowed trail…..
A clouded sky and a moonless night…..
A crash in the rocks and a shattered ship……
Two casualties and a zillion audience….
i am sorry my tears
Coz I have trapped you ,
Whenever you wanted to flow
I have always stopped you.

I know inside for you
It is very suffocating ,
But even if you flow
Nothing you will be getting .

You will flow
And get vanished somewhere ,
And till that time
People will show that they do care .

So better don''t expect
Anybody''s sympathy ,
You are true
You don''t deserve false pity.

I know you wanna come out
To make me feel relieved ,
What you think ?
Will this make my wounds get healed?

Rather than you
Its more painful for me
My dreams getting shattered
Is what everyday I see .
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
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!
and you may be sort of a loner, but that
doesn''t mean you want to be. What hurts you
is people being mean and even though you
might not get it that often, since you''re so
sensitive it still makes you deal with pain.
You''re not a leader and are usually the
person who stands alone, does what she''s
supposed to do and nothing else.
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...
Today is filled with anger, fueled with hidden hate.
Scared of being outkast, afraid of common fate.
Today is built on tragedies which no one wants to face.
Nightmares to humanity and morally disgraced.
Tonight is filled with rage, violence in the air.
Children bred with ruthlessness cause no one at home cares.
Tonight I lay my head down but the pressure never stops,
knawing at my sanity, content when I m dropped.
But tomorrow I see a change, a chance to build anew,
built on Spirit, intent of heart, and ideas based on truth.
Tomorrow I wake with second wind and strong ideas of pride.
I know I fought with all my heart to keep the dream alive
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 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.
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.
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.
Beloved''s Manifestation

One who is eager for love,
the beloved''s manifestation is in his soul.

In his existence there is the sign,
in his bones, marrow, and blood.

Is the beloved a houri or a human?
Venus, the sun, or the moon?

My beloved, in short,
is neither from the earth, nor from the sky.

Day by day my beloved''s beauty becomes more elegant.
Moment by moment I become more saddened.

My beloved is closer to me than myself,
Yet, I don''t know where my beloved is.

One who has reason and knowledge,
becomes intimate with someone of his kind.

I, helpless and Majnun-like,
have become accustomed to the desert.