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Jim Davis Oct 5
The Moving Finger writes;
and, having writ
Moves on:
nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to
cancel half a line
Nor all thy tears
wash out a word of it.
Apropos for our profession of poetry I believe!  

From Wikipedia:  Omar Khayyam (/kaɪˈjɑːm/; Persian: عمر خیّام‎ [oˈmæɾ xæjˈjɒːm]; 18 May 1048 – 4 December 1131) was a Persian mathematician, astronomer, and poet.[3][4][5] He was born in Nishapur, in northeastern Iran, and spent most of his life near the court of the Karakhanid and Seljuq rulers in the period which witnessed the First Crusade.

The Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics quotes the tradition that the Persian quatrain-form, the ruba'i, originated in the gleeful shouts of a child, overheard and imitated by a passing poet.
Sam Bowden Mar 8
She said to me:
“You asked me to dream new dreams.
My sweet love, you are that dream...

Waking up to you is that dream...

Holding you from the back while you brush ur teeth is that dream

Smiling at you, and you smiling back to me is that dream.

You ******* me like you mean it is that dream.

It is a dream to be in love with you; being loved by you is that dream.

You looking at me looking at you
through the windows of our souls
is the dream I never dared to dream.”
Oh! Woe to the poor captivated lover
Being trapped in love, but beloved gone

Oh! The moment I'm sitting as tulip alone
In my heart's blood, she is gone as wind

The voice of ax didn't come from Bistoon
Shireen is gone to Farhad's dream tonight

Oh! I will inform you of my painful alas
The day my enormous patience finally gone

Pity lover that flew your grapevine hair
With a hundred hopes come, gone unhappy

I am happy you abandoned all my rivals
Although, you left me as fistful of soil to wind

Mountains and deserts are mournful tonight
Lovers as Majnoon and Farhad gone forever
- Inspiration from a classic Persian poem
- Shireen and Farhad is an ancient Persian love story
- Bistoon is a mountain that Farhad had to finish a tunnel to reach to Shireen but eventually died there
- Leili and Majnoon is an ancient Persian and Arabic love story
undefined Nov 2017
i'm taking a class on persian poetry
i don't speak persian-
my taste in poetry has always been
more bukowski than rumi
a little too western, a little too crude

but then there's you
with poetry flowing
at the tips of your fingers
and the edges of your heart
you read poetry
as if it were the bible
making every word
sound holy and every
sentence more scripture
than art
and when you recite
it's like thunder
and ice
it's fire with
just enough passion
to burn for centuries


you're the hafiz
to my plath
and i never quite understood
your language but
i loved it any way
and i tried to speak
it but my words were
always
too western, too crude
and yours

yours like a burning candle
in the middle of winter
it's a small light
but enough to keep me warm
and the darker the night
the cooler the weather
the warmer the flame
that burns bright


you were my ferdowsi
and khyyam
and i was still somewhere
between woolf and
dickinson
their worlds made sense
to me more than
persian passions
that i always wanted
could almost taste
but never swallow
but you feasted

i'm taking a class on persian poetry
i don't speak persian-
*but it brings me one step
closer
to you.
Mystic904 Oct 2017
Dil em tang shuda azi dunya awlay che kunum
Purson maikunum, ini aale now ra che kunum

Naona ika thur nako da chaye janum
Aftiden da chaah, maigin awlay che kunem
_______

Heart's feeling full of this life, what to do?
Asking hence, with the newbies, what to do?

Dip not fully the self, hey dear you shouldn't!
Drowing in the well de despair, crying what to do?

c. Teeri
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