Time for you and time for me,

Time for you and time for me,
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
  

Apr, 11 2011     154 chars (1 sms)     3953 views       English Poetry

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You’ve been given feeling to me all night
And I can’t leave unless you''re leaving with me tonight
Now it’s not difficult to tell you''re selecting
And I think you''re selecting me
To lead you - can’t you see?

I wanna leave with you gotta take you home
I can see it inside my head
That if I leave with you and I get you home
you’re gonne love what I do when I’m on top of you
when I’m on top of you
My heart longs for you,
I want to have the feel of your arms embracing me,
Like that of an angel''s wing envoloping my soul,
With the warmth of your love.
I want to hear the whisper of your heart,
Beating ever so slightly against mine,
As we mold together,
Like the candlewax that slowly drips,
While the young lover''s explore the world of their togetherness and tender hope.
I want to be caught with you,
To fall into a surreal world,
Where time means something,
Only to those who have lost all the innocence,
That one would only be able to find,
By watching the imagination of a small child unfold before them.
I want you to love me,
Like you have loved no other.
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.
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.
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.
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 .
O Bearer, bring the wine that brings joy
To increase generosity, & let perfection buoy
Give me some, for I have lost my heart
Both traits from me have kept apart
Bring the wine whose reflection in the cup
Signals to all the kings whose times are up
Give me wine, and with the reed-flute I will sing
When was Jamshid, and when Kavoos was king
Bring me the elixir whose grace and alchemy
Bestows treasures, from bonds of time sets free
Give me so they''ll open the doors once again
Of long life and the bliss that will remain
Bearer give the wine that the Holy Grail
Will make claims of sight in the Void and thus fail
Give me so that I, with the help of the Grail
All secrets, like Jamshid, themselves avail
Speak of the tale of the wheel of fate
I Cry
Sometimes When I''m Alone
I Cry,
Cause I Am On My Own.
The Tears I Cry Are Bitter And Warm.
They Flow With Life But Take No Form
I Cry Because My Heart Is Torn.
I Find It Difficult To Carry On.

If I Had An Ear To Confiding,
I Would Cry Among My Treasured Friend,
But Who Do You Know That Stops That Long,
To Help Another Carry On.


The World Moves Fast And It Would Rather Pass By.
Then To Stop And See What Makes One Cry,
So Painful And Sad.
And Sometimes…
I Cry
And No One Cares About Why.
Do You Remember?

Handsome, your beauty surpasses other beauties.
Write, let me know how you are doing, peri.

Everybody did, what happens if I do?
Describing your charm in this gathering, peri?

Your breasts are like marble. Your alef-like stature resembles spruce.
Around your flower-like face, curl to curl, is ambergris scented hair.

You’d sleep and I’d stay all night till dawn,
Guarding your assets and riches, peri.

The day I fell in love with your moon-like charm.
I found that my incurable pain had no remedy.

Do you remember, I was saying: Dawn, Dawn?
Praying no ruin falls on you, peri?
"It's difficult to wait for some one,
&
It's difficult to forget some one,
But
The most difficult thing is to decide wether to wait or forget some one"
“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.”
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.