I had once thought

I had once thought
that maybe this was life.
No love, no hate, no feelings.
My deepest feelings would never be shared.
I was so frightened;
I didn''t know what to do.
Scared of this one man all my life.
Face my fear, I told myself!
But it''s so hard, so confusing.
Do you know what it''s like
to wonder in darkness?
It never stops, never ends.
It goes on like a story with no ending.
Do you know how it feels
to be afraid of something
that you can''t do anything about?
That you didn''t ask for or even think about?
Do you know what it''s like? Do you know how it feels?
It''s complete and pure emptiness!

Jun, 18 2010 624 chars (4 sms) 3084 views English Poetry

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Students Funny SMS on Paper

Students Ka Almmiya

At The Time Of Exam Preprtion

A V Ho Gya > A V Ho Gya > A V Ho Gya >

After Paper: A Ki Ho Gya ;-(

|==================================|

Teacher: What Is Chemical Formula For Water?

John: H I J K L M N O

Teacher: What Are You Talking?

John To Teacher: Yesterday You Told It Is H to O

Why Oh God

Why

Oh God, one cannot argue with you, but,
why did you throw us in the fire of love?

You formed us with your power, and water and clay.
Why did you create the moon-like beauties?

You made eyebrows into pens, and locks of hair into lassos.
You made sugar-water limpid from sweet lips.

If you wanted me not to become afflicted and degraded,
why did you create lovesick girls?

If you wanted submission and prayers,
you would not have given beauties coquetry and coyness.

If false love is a sin,
why did you make drunkard eyes drunk?

~*~ 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 ... (:->

The sparkle in your

The sparkle in your eye,
The warmth of your skin.
Your breath on my neck,
That quivers within.

The touch of your hand,
The smell of your hair.
The kindness in your smile,
That strength in your stare.

Your kiss on my lips,
Your body near mine.
The stroke of your touch,
That feeling inside.

The sound of your voice,
Compassion in your embrace.
The serenity in your stride,
The power in your face.

The calming of your presence,
The beating of your heart.
The promise of tomorrow,
That we may never part.

The beauty of your kiss,
and that magic in your touch.
It is for all these reasons and more,
Why I love you so much.

Burning pain

Burning pain
Misery and tears
My heart torn by broken promises
Your lies echo through my mind
No place to run
No place to hide
I try to ignore my pain
Daily my tears flow
My beauty marred
My spirit crushed
Your anger
Your criticism
Your violence
I can do no right
I try to please, to make things acceptable
For you
To no avail
How to end my suffering
There is no respite
By you, my deep love forgotten
There are others who fill your thoughts
Who make you smile

How come I don''t

How come I don''t know my own pain?
I''m the doctor and the remedy myself.

I wandered around the universe.
For the friend''s sake I have broken my heart.

Oh poor me! I didn''t know
I ''m the beloved and the lover myself.

Mazun, I made myself degraded.
I chose to be in love.

I gave my sole to the beloved.
Soul myself, devotee myself.

Because of 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.

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.

I fight 4 d unconventionaE

I fight 4 d unconventional
as ma lyf is very unconditional
i''ld try 2 b as real as i can
my disadvantage is, i neva knew d plan
i suffered alot buh still i fight
doesn''t matter i win or lose,atleast i tried
at d end ov d day, u just knw 1 thing
tht if u gt sum1,u''ve gt everything
u think tht sum1 is d world, d lyf, ur aim
buh mayb u r wrong ven lyf plays d game
dono,ve u identified me, ma lyfstyle, ma tone?
d thing tht i c is um just alone, awl alone!!!
lukin 4 d future,observing present,faced d past
u dnt gt wt u want, as d lyf passes by so fast!!

in your eyes,

in your eyes, i dont see any love anymore
you are the one i need
and am not the one you are looking for
i begged you before i leave
keep me close, i am so naive
......you pushed me out
and you closed the door

I don t have

I don t have everything
as a matter of fact I don t have anything
except dream of a better day
and you 2 help me find my way
Being a man I am sure 2 make mistakes
but 2 keep u I would do all it takes
and if it meant my love was really true
I d gladly die and watch over u
I wish u knew how much I cared
u d see my love is true by the life we d share
Even if u changed your mind and said our love was thru
I d want 2 die continuously cry and still I d love u

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.

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I had once thought

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