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Clive Blake Aug 2017
My heart was very battered,
It was also broken,
It had endured so, so, much,
Of which I haven’t spoken.

With your love and tenderness,
My heart pounds once again,
Our hearts now beat together,
And there they shall remain.

Now …
My heart has found its true love,
My heart has found its home,
My heart is yours forever,
My heart is yours alone.
Cherisse May May 2017
No matter the spotlight and attention
Or the sea of applause
Or the congratulations from everyone
You still think I don't matter.

No matter what performance I do
Or show I make
Or the difference it makes
I still do not matter.

No matter
What talent I have
If I wasn't him
I'll never be good enough.
i'm sorry.
Your beautiful eyes covered with antimony
Instigates me in love then ask for simony
Your rosy cheeks oh my sweet honey
This situation warrants a grand ceremony

I am enthralled by you by the scene
Which makes me more and more keen
Touch of class what it may mean
Those eyes have never ever been seen

I don’t know why I’m lost in you
But love is cherished through and through
We are one in love and never ever two
With warmth of heart I intend to pursue

Sweetness of style and grace with innocence
The day I saw you I lost sense
Without you life seems tense sentence
You are my queen and I am your prince

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
mk Nov 2015
she sat on the beige satin couch
looking down at her feet
which were designed with intricate patterns made of mehndi
her nails painted a light pink
a color much like the subtle blush on her cheeks
she was fair, but not pale,
she had a shine to her, a glow
her face was hidden for the most
with a white lace dupatta
like the midnight moon hidden behind translucent clouds
most of her hair was tucked neatly away
except the loose strand which rested on her forehead
a curl, the color of sweetened caramel
soft, delicate; and ever so sweet
she brushed it back with her small hands
but it bounced right back, falling on her face
she looked up, slightly titling her head towards the light
the way sunlight hit her eyes made you want to never look away
oh, her eyes
lined with kajal, they stood out
the kind of eyes you could find yourself getting lost in
hazel and green- with specks of yellow and blue
there was a universe within those eyes
like the rainforest after a summer sprinkle
lush, pure, mesmerizing
but they were quickly hidden once more
as she delicately pulled the dupatta closer to her face
and smoothed down the crease in her silk kameez
her movements were entrancing
you could not look away
the more you looked, the more you craved to catch one more glance
gentle, soft, kind
never in a rush
you couldn't help but imagine what it felt like to feel her touch
the only words we heard her speak
was right when the sun began to set
and the orange-red rays reflected in the pearls around her neck, the only jewelry she wore, yet enough to adorn her
her puckered mouth opened softly
and she was bearly audible as she spoke
her voice like honey: sweet & melodious
if she never stopped speaking, you'd never stop listening
she spoke with a tender sort of confidence & surety
*"qabool hai, qabool hai, qabool hai"
nikkah is the official marriage ceremony for muslims. here's what i've always imagined a bride in an eastern nikkah to seem like. the whole image is rather enchanting, i must say.
-
mehndi: henna
dupatta: shawl often worn by women in the east
kajal: kohl
kameez: shirt
qabool hai: i do
Mike Essig May 2015
We shall need

a very private
language for this.

Let us create it.

A language
for lovers,
not strangers.

We are those lovers,
supplicants at this altar.

These syllables
will bind us
in lovers knots.

The ceremony begins.

We shelter
in our bodies
holy flesh
steadily chanting
this communion.

Slowly touching,
slowly turning,
slowly burning,

we begin the dance.

We whirl
until we merge

and the magic
takes hold

as we pronounce

in sounds never
heard before,

the incantation
of a spell
that begins
with words,

but ends
in ecstasy.
   ~mce
Only one other person in the world knows this language.
Javaria Waseem Oct 2014
The cold breeze pinched my skin,
as the moon appeared from between the clouds.
I was strapped down on a stone table
And the wolves had already started to howl.

From the shadows they came as a pack;
Hidden faces and black robes.
Holding the silver dagger of the snake,
they encircled around the table of stone.

Declaring the yellow moon as their witness,
in the bowl of terror, they lit the fire.
Then took a drop of my blood and chanted
"This is for the mare of the dark night"
Javaria Waseem Oct 2014
The voices* called my name in the dark
I knew I had no choice left.
My whole body shivered and rose up in the air
I was several inches above my bed.

The shadow approached me and touched my lips.
I could feel every muscle tightening.
My heartbeat stopped and veins dried out
As it whispered, "Let the ceremony begin."
zeineb bouhaouel Sep 2014
the ceremony is over
it was a perfect show
cermeony =life

— The End —