"fervour" poems
Ambar ki aftaabi mein muskurata hai tu
Samundar ki gehrayeon se gunjtah hai tu
al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām
Darkht ke har patton mein lehrata hai tu
Baarish ki har boond se barasta hai tu
al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām
Har takhayyul mein nazar aaye tera hi kalam
Innayat rahe hum pe sada tera bas karam
al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām
Har tassavur mein hai teri hi tasveer
Muqqamal karde ab meri bhi taqdeer
al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām
Har nabz ke tarranum mein gun gunata hai tu
Har labz ko mere haathon se likhata hai tu
al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām
Kabool kare meri ibadat mera ye junoon
samet le kadmo mein, mil jaye sukoon
al-Ala As-Salām, al-ʻAziz As-Salām
Translation
Your smile is in the radiance of the skies
Your sounds echo from the depths of the ocean
the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace
You sway in every leaf of a tree
you are in every drop of the rains
the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace
behind every thought is your pen
continue to grace us always with kindness
the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace
In every portrait, I see your image
help me complete my destiny
the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace
you are the hum in the melody of every pulse
My hands are mere instruments of your every word
the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace
Accept my worship, and my fervour
absorb me into your feet, and grant me peace
the most High, source of peace, the most glorious , source of peace
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
For Max
O cruel, drunken soul, darling tigress,
Come to my heart, you lethargic beast!
I long for my trembling hands to caress
Your thick and glossy fleece.
In your petticoats filled with your scent
To bury my poor, aching head,
Inhaling your flowery fragrance;
The sweetness of love now dead.
I wish to sleep, to dream perchance
As sweetly as death’s embrace,
Without remorse, my tongue will dance
On your coppery body and face.
To bury my sobbing for hours
Nothing equals your bed’s abyss,
On your lips lies oblivion’s power
And Lethe flows in your kiss.
Like one resigned to meet his end,
I’ll face my fate delighted;
Docile martyr, innocent condemned,
Whose fervour with pain is ignited.
I shall **** to drown my malice,
With nepenthe and hemlock blessed;
Placing my lips upon the chalice
Of your pointed, heartless breast.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC
Salto Angel dances an Aqua-Skirt
Such Fashion pleased the Tourists below
How else can the Latin earn your Fervour
But surpass your Record of height and snow?
Funny, how her Majesty can suppress
Even more when viewing up from this Point
Like a Crone who often tries to oppress
A Revolt which a Priest failed to Anoint
And lowering my Camera, I see
The many Prizes I did Hit-and-Miss
But she roared with showers raining gently
And, enough! They saw Rainbows turn to bliss.
So I sat on a Rock to watch and live
Hoping my Partner would rise to forgive.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC
She comes to me every night...
When all is asleep with stars lit yonder.
Comes to me with subtle might
Peeking fiendishly from darkness's cover
Await such time she'd choose to show
Await the chance to finally take.
Ready to pounce like a well tensioned bow
Arrow-like talons, ever honed to stake.
Awake or asleep, she would come without fail.
Creep is her gait; this shadow clad figure.
Always a ***** in my impervious mail.
Claiming her wants with ferocious fervour.
Deemed to be strong, easier to succumb.
Don't fight...don't struggle... Don't call for aid...
Just wait and will yourself numb
She'd come regardless of prayers that's said.
She was here with me last night
In bed, I stared at a being that's faceless...
And my heart wrenched tight.
Gripping and feeding me senseless...
Soon as she came, she left but not before
Siphoning the good and replacing with dread...
Stole was what she did; left me wanting more...
Once deed is done, into the dark she fled.
I know her all too well,
Nocturnal guest that I unknowingly invite
Her intentions to incite, not quell
Send me spiralling through emotional blight.
Day will recede, making room for dark
She'll come; swift and without sound.
She'll arrive majestic; inflicting her mark
I'll wait for her, ready and unbound.
Looking forward to her return
This silent foe whom I find familiar.
With every touch I cringe and burn
Oh secret friend whom I'm beginning to savour...
She is synonymous with various names
Each would bear the likeness of semblance
Let fly her cloak of not dissimilar aims
Endearingly I call her...,
Despondence...
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
I look up from my book
to find beams of warm sunlight
touching my face,
the chugging of the train
accompanied by its whistling,
become my aural companions
for the journey,
as I look at scenes that
unfold before my eyes :
I pass by hawkers
trying to sell their wares,
their calls mingled with
joyous voices,
of children
excited about their
first train journey,
of families
on their way,
perhaps, to attend a wedding,
or to celebrate the birth
of a much awaited child.
I see :
village belles toiling away
on fields;
shabby looking buildings
speaking of years of neglect;
temples ringing with the sounds of
bhajans being sung with religious fervour,
bells being tolled, pleading
the gods to look down
from their divine abodes;
roadside stalls filling the air
with aromas of food,
promising hearty meals.
They are all ephemeral sights, and yet,
they have become a part of me -
the smells, the sights -
they shall bring back memories
that will become my companions
in solitude.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 4:17 AM UTC
*
*
-
My silver Knight,
shining with angelic splendour has sailed
towards the outer regions of my Kingdom
to lay waste to all my enemies. My heart in
hands, my hands are clasped, brought alive
with love, with light, with prayer.
Please, come back to me.
As I think of arrows piercing his breast,
or swords, or warhammers or even axes
I cannot, will not ever dance to the songs
of war.
A fire that claims souls, the earth that drinks
blood, a sight that makes my stomach turn
To see men fighting for a cause or no cause
at all. For war rapes all of happiness and loved
ones.
Oh! Begone tortuous thoughts! Revolting facts!
He will return. He will return!
For my nation prays with fervour, but all have
bleary-eyes, no more than me. He's gone to brave
the dragon's dawn - of men branded, fuelled by
the flames of war, riding into the fields on their
snow kissed mounts, roaring and clashing under
a broken sky; the kiss of steel, blades that dance
between life and death and give any and many
the kiss of Eternal Sleep.
The harp of his silver tongue plays soft, gentle and
true. Hand in hand, we walk through fields, of my
dreams divine! The ambition, the care, the charm
glowing in your eyes to be something more.
To you, I was a muse to climb and soar though the
heights, and you spoke so highly of my golden
sapient quill.
My heart, heavy, full of woe
As sleep has not come smoothly to my face,
my body, my heart, my soul.
You promised me, 'I will return to you.'
'I will return to you,'
how your voice hung so sweet in my ear,
ripe with love, vibrant with hope, certain as the rising light
Please do not fade away, I could not bear it!
Please don't fade away!
Bring unto me that gold and joyous hour!
Fair the storms and roars; overcome the shores,
slay and return to me from the dragon's dawn,
unscathed and with a smile on your handsome
face.
-
*
*
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
the rope dangles like a noose
I would beg for your sweet abuse
tell me how to hurt for fun
tie me up and come undone
paint my ankles with your thread
fibers rub to crimson red
I'm strong enough to take it
to your love I will commit
tell me all you plan to do
desire and come into
feel your fervour through the rope
feel your tongue against me *****
your need becomes mine to fill
tie me up, I'll be your thrill
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 8:13 PM UTC
I assume you once danced the Cabaret
By how you strut your Flexi-Form abroad
This I figure on weeks-by-two per se
The Ardent Friend your Fervour can behold
T'was the Charm which every Fruit can discuss
And win many Smiles for a Pint or Ink
Telling us flat, Life can take us that Far,
In a Bus run by Monday's Downey Sink
Was it wrong to know the Inner-Woman-You
That Principle so many Thinkers deny:
"Thrust-Hub! Buck-Forth! Lev, Lev, Lub, Lub, Le, Loo!
Then Drink your Bub-Clouds to Barrels on high!"
Nah, Forgive my Fishes, Sir! I bestate
You're one Sav Foretainer - Dance with me, Mate!
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:43 AM UTC
Fervour tapered lingering
On that ******* precipice
Of alleged possibility
Devoured by the jaws of silence
The soul no longer raged
A nothingness that knew no words
Agony’s cold grip
Winter in December
I knew not what to with these hands
Their weightlessness
Weeping willows drowned out sound
Perfected in my dead
Loosening the grapple on the promise
Of a hazy tomorrow.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
There's a nail,
he's set up camp in my brain.
Hammered with daylight,
held infuriatingly fast by night.
Even the stiffest claw
would be of no use,
not anymore.
His presence would herald slumber,
were I of a normal stock.
But no. He brings attention to
the tick. The tock.
If I inch him further,
with fervour,
maybe he will abdicate,
adjacent to his entry.
But I know he'll return,
pitching by the morn,
leaving my rest
completely,
utterly,
torn.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
Something happens for you
something changes,
a part of your power
a part of your abilities
a part of you
when you’re faced with truth,
and choice,
when moving from known
into uncertainty
and in the face of this
adversity,
you lose a part of
yourself
The words want to escape..
I understand
it is our nature;
yours,
mine,
everyone's,
it is the human condition
& our shared suffering
but don’t you see?
it only masks the
demons
that come out when
fear
runs rampant
& to win the fight
we must be
brave
& discover
what parts of
our nature need
taming
because I’ve seen you
move mountains
& together
we can move Earth itself
Imagine for a fleeting moment,
the dark side of the moon
and it’s just you & I
summon that same
courage
& fervour
be bold.
in the face of adversity
that is my hope for you,
that you find
your fearlessness
so you can be
free
The smoke
it hangs low,
a weight in my lungs
like the feeling in my soul
the forests
burn themselves,
and out of destruction,
the new growth is born,
like us
be born again,
let my love
nourish & caress you
scars and all
rise to the
challenge
when fear beckons
Lay your heavy head
and tired mind
in my lap
and let your tears
of sadness,
and longing
flow in the space between my legs
let go.
and like that,
I will hold you
& show you the
promises I won’t
break
let me reveal
my inner corners
as you show me yours,
and prove to you
how tender I will be
with your delicate
heart
tell me,
how do I show you
I am worthy
of all your virtue
& vanity
Something happens for you,
something changes
when you’re faced with truth,
and choice,
when moving from known
into uncertainty,
resist the temptation
& give into me
instead
make love to me.
lay your lips
on mine
& slip yourself
into the space
between my hips
let me show you
true ecstasy,
let the arch of
my back
show you what
words can’t
let our bated breaths
& escaping moans
be our solemn vow
that fear will never
rule here
again
let your fingers
get tangled in my hair
as your heart beats
against mine,
as a reminder of what
is ours
have courage
& fervour
to hold on,
when fear
taunts you to let go,
when it smirks
because the intensity
almost burns,
& your soul bleeds
and your bones ache
& your will is
tested
in these dark moments,
find strength in me
because something happens for you
something changes,
a part of your power
a part of your abilities
a part of you
when you’re faced with truth,
and choice,
when moving from known
into uncertainty,
when you’re
fearless
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
A storm,
a sandstorm,
a blinding sandstorm!
Grits of gold
inebriated with a haunted hurricane
danced with a fiendish fervour
in its search for identity.
Glare of gold blinds,
grip of greed delirates.
Like a marauding butcher,
slivers of gold
gouged out your saneness.
You danced
like a possessed,
with the yellow glister
holding your hand to the funeral pyre of your created destiny.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
Feel the chains change in me tonight
Condense me to evaporate in want
The long of a bounce to another world
Light the fire to burn deep and fervour
A belly roasts in repetitive embers flushes
Hearts tied connate as the essence flashes
A tangle ribboned to last after the dawn
Testify as our sparks infinitely ignite dances
Titaniums of our tectonic plates merge motions
A convergence entwined in bordered emotions
Link me in the convections of transformations
Conversations of a lasting warm benevolence
Paradisiacal chum of a past in resonance
A photographic collection of a lived long life
Unwrap the snare, unwind the erased tapes
Lay back as we hide away behind the moonlight
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
What do you do at 3am when you're tired and bored and its raining?
Maybe this is punishment.
For eating those grapes before you paid for them in Sainsburys.
Or that time you forgot who Buzz Aldron was, or when you took pleasure at beating a five year old at Cluedo.
She started crying, and even then, you still
would not relinquish your title.
Maybe its for that time
You were accidentally racist to the chinese guy taking your order.
Or when you forgot to buy your mum a birthday card, or when you made fun of your best friend for not being taller.
Or when you said, 'Maybe
selective breeding in humans,
Is not such a bad thing after all.'
Yes, Its definitely punishment for that.
But maybe its for all the litter you've dropped, inadvertently or on purpose.
Or for last week when you accidentally kicked the cat, or for stealing those library books,
For swearing at kids
and blaspheming at the dinner table,
Christ!
Maybe its for nicking your brothers chips, even when you're not really that hungry.
For halfhearted apologies handed out like office stationary, for scoffing at most modern art.
For not revising when you
Really, really should
...But telling your parents you are.
But even with all of this, isn't the punishment, just a little bit too harsh?
Well now you are sarcastic, and bitter and pessimistic at least 90% of the time.
And you do hide the fact that you quite like country music, and that you have a blanket with sleeves (and you genuinely use it) and that you're really rather patriotic at heart.
And you didn't say all that stuff when you should have.
And you said all that other stuff you didn't mean
And you spend far too much of your time
Invested in impressing the people you're never going to see again.
And you realize all of this... at three o'clock in the morning, alone but for the fading of the rain.
And you swear to yourself, with all the fervour of a tired insomniac. That tomorrow.
There. Will. Be. Change.
But in the cold, harsh light of nine o'clock the same day. Six hours after you fell asleep. You resign yourself to the fact that last nights punishments can all be absolved, by a nice warm cup of tea.
And despite what you say
at 3am when you're tired and bored,
listening to the sound of the rain.
You will always be a pessimistic idiot, with delusions of grandeur.
That watches too much American TV.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
brittle waves crash like
china plates
who do they argue with?
the moon, who is their father
the sea-their mother
their soulmate, an unseen river,
or me?
i am but an detached observer of this
play of passionate fervour
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
03.02.2013
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 7:17 AM UTC
There is no substitute for healing,
than to bloom in your own fire.
To climb wound by wound
on your bruised fervour,
is far better than growing wild.
Do not despise your reflection,
the shadows can lie.
You turn stones into petals,
this art is sublime.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
THERE is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing
Because it was your prayer
Recovered him upon the bed of death.
For your sole sake -- that all heart's ache have known,
And given to others all heart's ache,
From meagre girlhood's putting on
Burdensome beauty -- for your sole sake
Heaven has put away the stroke of her doom,
So great her portion in that peace you make
By merely walking in a room.
Your beauty can but leave among us
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
A young man when the old men are done talking
Will say to an old man, "Tell me of that lady
The poet stubborn with his passion sang us
When age might well have chilled his blood.'
Vague memories, nothing but memories,
But in the grave all, all, shall be renewed.
The certainty that I shall see that lady
Leaning or standing or walking
In the first loveliness of womanhood,
And with the fervour of my youthful eyes,
Has set me muttering like a fool.
You are more beautiful than any one,
And yet your body had a flaw:
Your small hands were not beautiful,
And I am afraid that you will run
And paddle to the wrist
In that mysterious, always brimming lake
Where those What have obeyed the holy law
paddle and are perfect. Leave unchanged
The hands that I have kissed,
For old sake's sake.
The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have
ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
2.8k
A perfect man for me was never moulded by a box,
A box that screamed multitude of labels
To satiate the chaotic minds of society,
A belonging judged by feudality, no rhyme or reason required or questioned.
A perfect man for me was never measured by material things,
He gives abundantly by just being around,
An illuminating source of comfort on the other end listening,
Empathising and leaving a trail of laughter that makes me fall even deeper.
A perfect man for me was never masked crusader (okay, maybe Batman sometimes),
He is maskless for the world to bask in his genuity,
No bounds or limitations set on his acts of kindness and love,
Selfless and generous with his time, blind to any creed or pedigree.
A perfect man for me was never one to run away from problems,
Valiantly facing the raging bulls head on,
Inner strength personified by his poise and determination,
"I will get through this unscathed and no one will stop me".
A perfect man for me was never an owner of a cold crackled heart,
Headstrong, gallantly keeps the family together in a bind of unconditional love,
Lovingly adores his sunshine, making sure she knows she is loved with the same fervour,
Day in and day out, void of complains and pettiness, as the world turns.
A perfect man for me was never perfect,
Owning up to his flaws and shortcomings and being aware of mine,
A cycle that is never vicious but one that is laced with acceptance and non-judgments,
He inspires the best version of myself as he aspires to better himself.
A perfect man for me spells Y-O-U,
And the way that you are is exactly how I love Y-O-U.
Shalini Nayar
24.11.14
(C) 2014
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC
The voice of Norway
It was there
At the border
A gray mass of stones
Between two countries
One country
Wanted to give it away
As a good will gesture
But the people
Those who didn't know
The mountain existed
Said NO
We will not give away
A pebble
Of our nation
There was waving flags
The authority relented
Took the offer back
The people had spoken
With a narrow-minded
Nationalistic fervour
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 5:23 AM UTC
It pulls me deep with a grip so relentless
It swirls me senseless with tendrils so sensuous
It overwhelms me so with determined fervour
I can't breathe, I can't fight, I get pulled under.
It renders me helpless but every bit I'm enjoying
These currents they push and carry, entranced I'm dancing
Try to swim and navigate but almost seem futile
Defy all logic, in this magical enchantment I smile.
I squeeze in an occasional breath that's deep
Reality streams in like water running in steep
But in a heartbeat I exhale to expel it all out
For I am addicted to the current and its strong-armed clout.
It's a whole new realm that has been so long hidden
Mystical and whimsical, this overgrown path that's hardly ridden
Fortunate it feels to have discovered such a find
So consumed, that it fills my body and my mind.
This tidal wave in my heart, with strength so unbelievable
Wearing away the uncertainty and everything else sensible
As it beats upon the shore of my guardedness
Revealed the tender core filled with love that's limitless.
Forever I wish to be submerged in this dream-like state
Floating and drifting, clumsily in a child-like gait
I have found myself in this love I'm drowning
Swim up and awaken is a thought I'm not longing.
Engulfed in a blanket of love's sweet loving
Feeble attempt to embrace back is all I'm trying
"Enjoy it, and receive what you can" said the voice in my head
My heart replies, "I think I'll love her forever instead".
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
Forgive me
When I ask with fervour but thank with naught
Forgive me
When I praise the action but ignore the thought
Forgive me
When I cry out for help but not for joy
Forgive me
When I use words to tear down and to destroy
Forgive me
When I remember the hardship but forget my reward
Forgive me
When I pray prince of peace but live by the sword
Forgive me
When I shrink from death but forget to live
Forgive me
When I'm quick to anger but slow to forgive
Forgive me God
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 4:36 AM UTC
For Atheists, God does not compute
And religious fervour does not suit.
Believers, on the other hand
Keep their heads down in the sand.
Both camps are certain they are right,
Faiths for which they’re willing to fight
And die.
Well maybe not the Atheists
It must be said:
They stick to logic,
Ruled by the head.
For me I’m baffled why these folk are so certain.
We won’t know The Truth ‘til the Final Curtain.
I guess an Agnostic I’ll always be,
So let’s sit down for a cuppa tea.
Paul Butters
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
choo choo
next stop.....perdition
(no, not really...no-one believes this Stygian opacity)
1.
look how Time doth ravage thee
look what it did to thy visage
in smithereens, lies youth
it so artfully takes away
what is held so dear
rivers and streams
valleys and hills
arching to ecstatic heights
plunging to abysmal lows
into the ravine of chance
stirred by the spoon of Time
slowly around the cauldron
brews the self-same mixture
then poured into chasms of forgetfulness
using the eternal sledgehammer
it
smashes the foundation of thought
grinds the nutmeg of speed
pulps the fruit of mentality
slows the pulse of sensation
and pardons none.
2.
what was once sensuous and voluptuous lips
now are merely two dry slits on your face
once stared-into eyeballs, now glass over
vitreous cataracts steadily grow, weed-like
toned into lithe elastic bands now stretch
away into forever, a pale platform to walk on
life's morn is encompassed by years' slanting
clouded and bedimmed by mists of age
butterfly's existence outweighs a man's
by mere night-veiled windowpane of true sight
draw the curtains; close the shutters; screen the eyes
the time has come to shed all blinkers and face the sun.
3.
crimp
sag
limp
drag
mud cracks down a dipping dale
scalding pain sears sore half-foot
yes, time is but a disease
ravaging all
without fear or favour
sunken eyes
slower reflexes
tardier mind
scraggly body
hides not
condescends not
forgets not
the glimmer of ....
a time of ...
4.
cathedral invites the walker in
cool and calm recesses
sit silent
wait....
then they walk in, carrying
one who had but a lucky half-score lot
clear soprano note becomes a rudderless bleat
announcing the folly of stifling ego
now shorn of burning frost of circuitous fervour
beams of mercy cast a final look-see
jump the barriers of
time
to
carry thee off.
pipe organ-stops are pulled out
(art thee ready? platform number 5)
S T, 9 May 2013
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 9:24 AM UTC
Hera puts on a new set of armour
donning hairnet, yellow washing gloves and an apron
She washes the dishes with fervour
but wonders why she didn't marry Poseidon
For old Zeus was built like thunder
and she used to feel that electricity
but she know as she reaches for the plunger
that his heart feels no pity
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC