"beloveds" poems
I deserve to be happy,
But the world is too scrappy;
I deserve to be pampered,
But people always hammered;
I deserve to be loved,
But I always lost my beloveds;
I deserve a precious friendship,
But always got hardship;
I deserve more time,
As to my destiny I need to climb;
I deserve to be heard,
But soon as comes a warning word;
I deserve a good rest,
But I'm lingering like an unloved guest;
I deserve to be respected,
And that's what I always expected;
I deserve to have what I have,
As that's only what the world gave;
But even that's not in my luck,
I'm totally stuck;
I deserve to suffer,
As I had been a lover.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
An enigmatic smile she’s dressed with to chant mystery,
Poets and bards with their magical poesy tried the mystery,
Philosophers and thinkers broke their minds to unravel the secrecy,
Scientists and law makers built hypotheses and verdicts to read hers,
Painters and sculptors fatigued with their colours and clay,
Actors and directors enacted to unknot the thread of obscurity.
Odes and epics, long-written, attempted to sing Lisa’s Smile;
But reflections of their beloveds’ smile read in their verses,
Philosophies and thoughts expressed in huge volumes;
But less understood even the painter’s invention,
Theories and laws built around Science and Law;
But little is the outcome of their propositions sans the mystery,
Colours and clay played on mighty imaginative realms;
But Mona Lisa ne’er spoke of her mystery Smile.
Enactments on massive stages thrilled the collective audiences;
But Mona Lisa hid the mystery of her Smile.
I walked around the garden of poetry with fragrance of mystery,
I saw a poem in her distinctive beauty ruling my mind’s eye.
She smiled at my heart and in turn my heart smiled at her,
Her smile taught me a mystery and it took time to read it;
Yet there was a veil betwixt us, and I took my plume to write.
She took my heart unto her, and I romped in joy.
She’s been decked with melody and rhymes,
And the string of verses stretched beyond the horizon,
Where the mystery of Lisa’s Smile be found.
She took me with her beyond the horizon,
And I followed her with no utterance till our destination.
She laughed at me for my silence;
Yet she smiled unto me; but her smile looked unfathomable.
She smiled and smiled at me; yet she had no utterance for me;
She looked a little bit puzzling unto me, and I had no answer;
Yet her smile dwelled in me, and I invoked the Muse of Poetry.
“Thou art to be a silent lover, and her smile is the answer unto thee,
She’s the Mona Lisa; she can’t speak, but smile and smile.”
I lay on the soil of the kingdom of poetry, imbibing Lisa’s Smile,
I adorn her smile; I worship her smile; I revere her smile,
Let me not move away from the garden of poetry
Till Lisa’s Smile is translated unto me.
I waited and waited and I found the answer:
Lisa smiles and her smile is the love of silence.
My heart rests in silence that her love is felt within.
She uttered into me:”Speak not, but love with smile,
And that the mystery of my Smile and my Smile lasts.”
I know why Mona Lisa smiles.
She loves me with her silent Smile.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 5:17 AM UTC
An enigmatic smile she’s dressed with to chant mystery,
Poets and bards with their magical poesy tried the mystery,
Philosophers and thinkers broke their minds to unravel the secrecy,
Scientists and law makers built hypotheses and verdicts to read hers,
Painters and sculptors fatigued with their colours and clay,
Actors and directors enacted to unknot the thread of obscurity.
Odes and epics, long-written, attempted to sing Lisa’s Smile;
But reflections of their beloveds’ smile read in their verses,
Philosophies and thoughts expressed in huge volumes;
But less understood even the painter’s invention,
Theories and laws built around Science and Law;
But little is the outcome of their propositions sans the mystery,
Colours and clay played on mighty imaginative realms;
But Mona Lisa ne’er spoke of her mystery Smile.
Enactments on massive stages thrilled the collective audiences;
But Mona Lisa hid the mystery of her Smile.
I walked around the garden of poetry with fragrance of mystery,
I saw a poem in her distinctive beauty ruling my mind’s eye.
She smiled at my heart and in turn my heart smiled at her,
Her smile taught me a mystery and it took time to read it;
Yet there was a veil betwixt us, and I took my plume to write.
She took my heart unto her, and I romped in joy.
She’s been decked with melody and rhymes,
And the string of verses stretched beyond the horizon,
Where the mystery of Lisa’s Smile be found.
She took me with her beyond the horizon,
And I followed her with no utterance till our destination.
She laughed at me for my silence;
Yet she smiled unto me; but her smile looked unfathomable.
She smiled and smiled at me; yet she had no utterance for me;
She looked a little bit puzzling unto me, and I had no answer;
Yet her smile dwelled in me, and I invoked the Muse of Poetry.
“Thou art to be a silent lover, and her smile is the answer unto thee,
She’s the Mona Lisa; she can’t speak, but smile and smile.”
I lay on the soil of the kingdom of poetry, imbibing Lisa’s Smile,
I adorn her smile; I worship her smile; I revere her smile,
Let me not move away from the garden of poetry
Till Lisa’s Smile is translated unto me.
I waited and waited and I found the answer:
Lisa smiles and her smile is the love of silence.
My heart rests in silence that her love is felt within.
She uttered into me:”Speak not, but love with smile,
And that the mystery of my Smile and my Smile lasts.”
I know why Mona Lisa smiles.
She loves me with her silent Smile.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 3:07 AM UTC
no one knows pain
like
the ones
who
curse their beloveds
and
bleed their heart
dry
like
the ones
who
watch blood bubble up
from wounds
self-made
the ones
who
fill themselves up
just
to empty it all
in a bathroom stall
the ones
who
refuse their meals
and
live for the scale
because
numbers
don't leave
the crying poet
the bleeding cutter
the vomiting bulimic
the starving anorexic
the lost
the empty
the lonely
the unloved
the ones
who
love too much
and
not enough
no one knows pain
like
humans know pain
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 5:58 AM UTC
crazy idea, silly notion,
then again,
come back, circle around,
why not, you ask yourself
now prior to posting hereon,
every word with extra care reviewed
sharing, checking in
with my beloveds,
here, those gone/disappeared
telling myself
telling anyone,
talking to you
letting you know
my grace, your grace,
one and the same,
my face, your face,
my child, my son
know you're
checking in,
checking out,
the comings,
the goings,
knowing full and well,
I see you,
my face, your face
everywhere and everyday
our conversation never ending,
look for me here,
at the intersection
of memory and what's up,
you see my messages,
responding in a thousand
different ways,
our dialogue unending,
formally organized
Face to Facebook,
your face, my Facebook
my child, my son
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 6:34 AM UTC
SOULFUL IMAGINATION
On a journey of imagination,
The wind sought an explanation
Of that loving nature
We cannot measure.
Pray tell me now,
How good is your heart,
Filled with your beloveds' love ?
“Pacific, is my heart indeed!!”
Are the words I did utter.
Above the whispering reeds
Supporting the cloudy kites
It did impose further.....
What is love?
© Perveiz Ali
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 12:41 AM UTC
The cycle of time never stops,
That has never forgiven anyone,
Moves fast, slow and sometimes hops,
None can claim from it to be won,
The kings or beggar it behaves the same,
Justice, its essence and time its name.
O, the king lying with the queen,
Thou's given a figure to the love,
The lovers and beloveds are keen,
To visit the Taj as pilgrim of love.
Thousands of the people visit at a time,
To pay tribute a to building of ever prime,
Ah! The mosque is empty but I hear,
Silent prayer calls in surrounding of thine,
People are surrounding thee far and near,
They look happy but sad is the heart of mine,
O Yamuna! Beside thee one is seeing another age,
But time is the obstacle to show its visage.
Jan 9, 2011
Jan 9, 2011 at 4:56 AM UTC
To all my beloveds,
Why are you in such a rush?
Where do you think you have to go?
Why do you live as though in a race?
Don’t rush.
You won’t win.
There is no winning.
There is nothing after that end.
Where do you even have to go?
I’m the one who has to go…
And I will go,
Slow.
Before I meet that end,
Please,
Take my hand.
Waltz with me into that windy night,
Not with haste,
But with the remains,
Of this grotesque grace.
Let the wind howl.
Let it push.
Let it beg us to hurry on our way.
Let it do as it may,
But I will not rush to that end,
Under anyone’s command.
Just,
Go slow.
I will,
Go slow.
Drag your feet through the dusk.
Let the moonlight kiss the path,
Though it can never again light the way.
There is no destination.
Only this journey.
Only this ache.
Only this love.
I will,
Go slow.
Slow enough,
To cry.
For these tears are worthy of my time.
For they are true to my heart.
I will,
Go slow.
As I cry this truth,
I won’t rush to lie to you.
I won’t sprint toward bliss,
For there is none at the end.
I will waltz slowly through this pain.
Because I want to feel this love.
Because I crave every burden,
Of this human heart.
Go slow,
As you read the story.
Go slow,
As you listen to the song.
Go slow,
As you live this life.
Don’t race through beauty,
Just to meet nothing.
Don’t race through pain,
Just to meet that eternity.
That,
Distant
Icky
Eternity.
Go slow,
With companions, or alone.
Go slow,
Until the world lets go.
Let it hurt.
Let me cry.
Slowly, I love.
Slowly, I cling.
Slowly, I’m dragged away.
Slowly, I fade…
Into,
Into,
That,
Into,
Oblivion…
Go…
Slow.
Slower.
Slower still.
Almost,
Imperceptibly.
As,
You,
Approach,
That,
That,
That,
Distant
Icky
Eternity
Go,
Go,
Go,
Slow.
And if I must,
If I must say goodbye,
If this is the end of our time,
Then let me,
Let me smile,
As I go,
As I go slowly,
Dreaming,
That I am hand in hand,
With such kind company.
Waltzing slowly,
Until I,
Must let go,
Until you,
Until you must,
Move on,
Until I smile,
One last time,
As you must carry on,
Until I,
Until I succumb,
To that,
To,
That,
That,
That,
Distant
Icky
Eternity.
Sincerely,
Your companion
From genesis, through oblivion
Sep 3, 2025
Sep 3, 2025 at 6:10 PM UTC
A sudden flash,
lightning's cuneiform write,
on the plack of pitch dark sky;
like a truth derived from lives
*
Sudden insights,
in human nature strike unawares,
if you look around,
some times even casual look reveals.
*
Likes and dislikes drive human lives,
and civilizations thrives or bite dust,
on their merit,
they are like leaves sprouting on a plant
an act, result of the land it stands and nutrients
it receives,
what complex laws work behind it!
how would you capture the essence of this?
--meaning is elusive even if you peel
the onion, for long,
human nature defies all descernable patterns.
*
Pharova Khufu of Egypt,
wallowing in riches, all his life
(in the stories of past)
was in love with
his two boats, more than any other thing,
(one made of acecea and other from cider)
king, aimed his longing's sharp point
at this two wooden objects,
(a guy who had no problem in focusing
bless him, he deserves credit for that one decisiveness)
*
And when he died,
they thought these boats were the things
he would miss more than his wives,
what else could be possible?
they carefully laid to rest with him, these two beloveds-
Khufu with two lovely boats; his love objects,
his wish was honored
*
**Imagine a man of immense wealth
which eventually reduced to some wood,
the size of two boats,
(the symbol of futility
human life represents,)
trveling the great beyond,
with his legs, one each
on a boat.**
*
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
I cling to him,
Mascara stains his shirt
Like ink blotches on a left wrist.
Oh, how deeply, deeply
Sweetly –
Completely I feel this pain
Burrowed in the most hidden corner of my soul
Patched like cancer on the walls of my lungs
And Oh, how deeply, deeply
Sweetly –
Complete and utterly
Did we weep and wail through the darkness of that night
Tears cried by dull-ember fireside
This hurts more than we ever thought it could
Crocodile eyes ooze wet and hot
Figures entangle themselves in desperation
Words are few yet heart-wrenching
The strongest among us are bulldozed into flat implacability
Sorrow inhabits the cracks in my soul
Like chalk smeared across concrete.
Weep dear children,
Not ready to grow up
Weep dear friends,
For the depth of your love
Weep dear graduates
When morning comes you’ll have to leave
Weep for this country, that stained you and changed you
Weep for the institution, that burned you and bettered you
Weep for the people, who loved and supported you
Weep for your childhood, that carried you from birth to here
Weep, sweet alumni for all that you’re losing
For all the departure
For all the uncertainty
For all the promises that will be broken
And friendships that will not be kept up
Weep over the map
And curse the dividing waters
Weep my beloveds,
Deny yourselves no tears
Weep deeply
Weep deeply
Weep sweetly
Weep completely
Weep utterly and totally and whole-heartedly
Weep because this matters more than anything ever has
Weep because this has been the most beautiful and devine gift
Weep because you’ve been pierced to the core,
Debilitated by the most far-reaching love imaginable
And weep because
The world is expansive,
The oceans are deep and the lands are wide
The people are numerous and the cultures are diverse
The opportunities are endless
The combinations are infinite
Your life is long
And your future is full of immense possibility
But you will never have this again,
So weep.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing
Now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace
Sing our songs among the stars and and walk our dances across the face of the moon
In the instant we learn that Michael is gone we know nothing
No clocks can tell our time and no oceans can rush our tides
With the abrupt absence of our treasure
Though we our many, each of us is achingly alone
Piercingly alone
Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him
He came to us from the Creator, trailing creativity in abundance
Despite the anguish of life he was sheathed in mother love and family love and survived and did more than that
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style
We had him
Whether we knew who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his
We had him
Beautiful, delighting our eyes
He raked his hat slant over his brow and took a pose on his toes for all of us and we laughed and stomped our feet for him
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing
He gave us all he had been given
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Blackstar Square, in Johannesburg, in Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama and Birmingham England, we are missing Michael Jackson
But we do know that we had him
And we are the world.
Jan 6, 2010
Jan 6, 2010 at 10:37 AM UTC
bare it straight...
the knight-fool referenced here,
me, scrabbled, scrambled writer,
moat-surround builder,
petard hole-blower in walls of captivity.
letting those inside out,
letting those outside in...
all the beloveds from
ailments hurtful,
in and ex ternality
fearful of eternality
guise of knight errant,
salve and solve,
two pocket protectors,
needy, downtrodden, love-hurting,
slip inside and hide till ready
to come out on acceptable terms
entrapped, locked down and in,
show me the walls for to break,
make the solitary unobligatory
hands holding you will lead us,
all writ on clean new chance foolscap
open sourced coded for sharing
knock knock knock
come calling,
my calling...
to come...
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
lurking in every place that others, who also pose as poets,
lurk in--disguised as human beings--rather ineffectively.
Not even as good at deception as terrorists do
but they do manage easily to deceive themselves..
Writing in simplistic rhymes,their inexperienced and shallow
observations, that are made with the blindfold of truth over their eyes.
Pretententious juvenile and middle aged posturers,
that write excretable prose about their shallow juvenile longings,
to possess another completely,and always call it " love poetry".
Begging for a mummy or daddy figure to "love" them,
and thereby give their miserable existences value
and validation,energy-sucks one and all .
Crying out in immature and verbally comatose
stanzas, insisting that they are not to blame,
not me guv!--never met him before!,
can I hand you another nail?..
Still afraid of the "roaming soldiers" in our midst,
the paramilitaries of the Oligarchies that rule everywhere.
On their knees beseeching the one they met momentarily,
and who has walked away from them,
heaving with laughter at their chauvinism and sexism
and lack of integrity and lack of truthfulness.
Begging their various "gods" and "goddesses"to return to their grasping and possessive conditional love the *** object that rfejects them..
"Poets"(very few of them here and I am not a "poet") expose these thieves of others integrity and truthfulness,to the ridicule they deserve,
for trying to twist the shining shimmering slender thread
of unconditional love into a for life shackle
of the conditional attachment that they call love .
Whether they be Heterosexual or Homosexual/Lesbian
or Bisexual is if no account to these testosterone fuelled
inhabitants of the ****** free zone.
"Be all mine" they cry out piteously.
"You cant leave me like this" they cry unceasingly
as if some fictional "god"or "goddess" will fasten
the shackle around the "beloveds" ankle.
What a lot of horse **** to dip your quill into.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
this thing we
choose
to call beautiful
he
takes his time and
stirs up still things
hidden inside
to
exhaust the mind
then
settles down and
infests, but
come o beloveds of
darkness and decay
for day
is near
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 12:18 PM UTC
come to me,
my beloveds
with long nails
and squinting eyes,
spare neither
claw or hook,
delve and devolve,
critique and solve
the words of this prophet
scribbled on plastic
bus seats
give me
my due,
my comeuppance,
my downfalls
will me
to be better
or worse
if that be betterment
so eagerly
will embrace,
grasp, insert
your benailing fingers,
soften, grasp,
repoint thy claws
taking thy earnest joy
at pain inflicted
as my own
as long as you dare
just say something!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A bus poem
in honor of my invitation
my digital birthing
April 8th, 2015
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 6:31 PM UTC
While walking in the city throughout days,
I'm only daydreaming about tonight,
And thinking about that luminous face
Who I so eagerly want to speak and write
When the bright sunlight gets concealed,
When the night comes out the day,
When city lights become revealed
And when thoughts that she's distant go away.
After living my life in the daytime,
My beloveds face is finally seen!
In the late hours of the dim nighttime,
On my gleaming and lovely computer screen.
I know that it is a digital love,
But surely, it is a beautiful love.
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 2:21 PM UTC
nearing midpoint
and looking
twice backwards - once ahead
leaning ever so - modestly bent forward
in keeping with a
past and future futile balanced,
sad bent with weight of passé tragedy,
to leaning forward with speaking eagerness
a future anticipated,
dearly beloveds,
trundle to and from thee
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
burdened and yet unbundled,
eyes in the head back and front
who is pushing this carriage?
old love stories well recalled,
new love poems unwritten
I roll along, slow trundle
the human condition -
love failures only make you more
needy wanting
to run
faster away and towards
love poems
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
Stricken with, like fate.
Idolizing. Idealizing.
What makes it so?
Curiosity to obsession.
Obsession to love?
What is love?
Sought after, like gold.
Idolizing me.
Yet none to succeed but for a fleeting moment.
I envy those with their beloveds.
Even those whom have suffered loss, but still love.
Emptiness.
Craving the “good” feelings.
Like fantasies. Wanting someone who isn’t real.
Never to give wounds time to heal.
To invalidate, or embrace?
If I don’t know what is real
And if I don’t know who I am,
Do I follow my heart?
Or is naivety my wander?
What I seek is never mine to keep.
All stories are read, not written.
Not written by me.
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 10:46 AM UTC
All who strive and struggle
All who love too deeply
The souls whose heart mourns for others
The ones who feel the pain of empathic compassion
Empty your selves atop of me
Give unto me your hate
Tear the sorrow from your core
and be free
For I will consume
I will fester and writhe
For hate I loathe
and into the abyss I dive
Into the cryo-depth of darkness
Through the teeth of winter
Swallowed by war and hatred
For in the icy maw, hope thrives
Frozen inside his core
Fenrir engulfs the sun
Frigid I wait, rigid I stand
Fires of hate, Bless my son
And with the force of a thousand flames
The cries of a million strong
The spear that ended kingdoms come
****** the point of my demise
Belly splitting the beast howls
Birthed I am with the blood of passion
The light is once again released
Forged from the ice and compassion
Find joy my beloveds
Find happiness
Breathe your love onto me
For I am defeated
Valhalla, hear me now!
I am afraid to fall into the abyss
Guide me to the rainbow bridge
and I will lay my body beside the gate
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
quite frankly you've put me to shame -
and not for the reasons you think.
my beloveds:
it's your hatred.
i sat in on one of your congregations.
i heard the words you put in my mouth and i smiled, sadly,
at your empty trying.
i heard about that man who performed what you call miracles,
and i heard the words you put in his mouth and i laughed, genuinely,
at how much store you put in a little age-old gossip.
but then i heard the whisperings:
and i have to ask you.
all this behaving as if you know me,
and dancing around with me in your hearts,
and you think i care,
you think i care about those two women
who love each other?
those two men with their beautiful children?
those millions of others?
you think i didn't make them that way -
special,
free,
and just the same as you?
you think you earn my favor,
accusing and oppressing your brothers, your sisters?
you think i smile on your closed minds?
you bring shame on yourselves.
my ad-libbed wrath, i can laugh at that,
and that man from galilee,
i can smile at your childish clinging.
but i didn't make you with hatred.
i didn't make you to see differences as anything
but a celebration.
if someone had told me this is what would take shape,
in my name,
i would have pointed at you hateful few,
and i would have said,
god forbid
(and i do)
that you spread this poison.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
What Happened to Them?
by Nasir Kazmi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Those who came ashore, what happened to them?
Those who sailed away, what happened to them?
Those who were coming at dawn, when dawn never arrived ...
Those caravans en route, what happened to them?
Those I awaited each night on moonless paths,
Who were meant to light beacons, what happened to them?
Who are these strangers surrounding me now?
All my lost friends and allies, what happened to them?
Those who built these blazing buildings, what happened to them?
Those who were meant to uplift us, what happened to them?
NOTE: This poignant poem was written about the 1947 partition of India into two nations: India and Pakistan. I take the following poem to be about the aftermath of the division.
Climate Change
by Nasir Kazmi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The songs of our silenced lips are different.
The expressions of our regretful hearts are different.
In milder climes our grief was more tolerable,
But the burdens we bear today are different.
O, walkers of awareness's road, keep your watch!
The obstacles strewn on this stony path are different.
We neither fear separation, nor desire union;
The anxieties of my rebellious heart are different.
In the first leaf-fall only flowers fluttered from twigs;
This year the omens of autumn are different.
This world lacks the depth to understand my heartache;
Please endow me with melodies, for my cry is different!
One disconcerting glance bared my being;
Now in barren fields my visions are different.
No more troops, nor flags. Neither money, nor fame.
The marks of the monarchs on this land are different.
Men are not martyred for their beloveds these days.
The youths of my youth were so very different!
Nasir Kazmi Couplets
When I was a child learning to write
my first scribblings were your name.
―Nasir Kazmi, translation by Michael R. Burch
When my feet lost the path
where was your hand?
―Nasir Kazmi, translation by Michael R. Burch
Everything I found is yours;
everything I lost is also yours.
―Nasir Kazmi, translation by Michael R. Burch
Syed Nasir Raza Kazmi (1925-1972) was a renowned Urdu poet and playwright. His poetry continues to be used in Pakistan Television (PTV) shows and in Indian Bollywood films. Keywords/Tags: Nazir Kazmi, Urdu, translation, ghazal, couplet, love, pain, grief, melancholy, mrburdu
May 7, 2020
May 7, 2020 at 2:09 AM UTC
Pondering rain,
drops of new,
and pats of old.
Contented sighs exude from my heart
as light scatters in colors
through the broken clouds,
the whole world
resides in that one rainbow...
The earth in its entirety
sinks into the darkness,
sweet hues
fade into a deep freckled purple;
asleep is the innocent;
wide awake
is the curious explorers
in love.
A nighttime symphony
awards an applaud
from the beats of the racing hearts;
alive and united.
A moment fully experienced,
God's grace
flows in the form of wind,
the warming breeze
lightly caresses
the skins of bare,
quietly blessing His children
to eternity,
Forever in awe with one another.
The sun boldly makes its arrival,
slowly spitting fire
into the beloveds below.
Somehow,
joy finds its way,
intertwined
within the arising glowing daytime -
even in the crashing water;
a mesh of beauty
is always present.
In the arms
of security,
love,
warmth,
and bliss,
one finds earthly manifestations
of His dream;
one embraces the energy
of His life.
Contented sighs
exude from my heart
with truth and beauty.
For my surroundings
sit modestly within me...
The universe holds energy infinitely;
the soul holds the universe in its entirety:
eternal and infinite is both as a pair
Like day and night,
like sunshine and rainfall,
like you and I.
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
If there was a song in this world so melodious
So sweet
So beautiful
That it was the anthem of lovers
Of sweethearts
Of beloveds
And I sang it to you so tenderly
So vibrantly
So lovingly
Would you love me back so truly
So unconditionally
So faithfully
Just as I do to you, my love, so wonderful
So fantastical
So undeniable
And would you so graciously
So honestly
So astonishingly
Accept me into your arms so humbly
So loyally
So admirably
As you are the only one so dear
So adored
So cherished
And as I would lay in your arms of warmth
Of gentleness
Of love
I would sing that song of romance
Of care
Of devotion
Because our love would be so boundless
So limitless
So Marvelous
So, would you care for a song my love?
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC