"shams" poems
Kashmir Delirium
Oh People Of Earth! Thankful are we,
For each act of benevolence shown to us.
Your gilded sweet words describing,
The beauty of Kasmir, land and people.
Mention in books and talks of it's riches,
Naming it the Sweet Paradise Of Earth.
The Lord has been bountiful to Kashmir,
Treasure of resources in every sphere.
To elevate each aspect, our wish for life,
As every acre of this land is worth millions.
Full of treasures and recreational value,
Forestry with grandeur and silvery rivers.
The outside world's view is so limited,
Simple folks living in the lap of rich bounty.
Mentioned in world forums and organizations,
But what of the goal of giving us freedom?
What has The UN established in our name?
To measure the pain and anguish we bear,
At the hands, of our supposed benefactors.
The saviours who has us fractured.
But in reality they train their enforcers,
In the art of creating oceans of tears.
The red blood now hidden in camouflage,
The spent shells now gathered and hidden.
The leaders we are told to elect in electoral shams,
Run publicity kiosks and swell friend lists.
Joint conferences to address personal interests
Dialogues that never address the root issues.
Just the formalities and no sympathy,
For the ones burnt in cruel sadistic reprisals.
The hypocrisy continues deliriously unabated,
More augmentation of the security forces.
For a first hand view of deep hypocrisy,
Walk this land, you know as beautiful.
Religious leaders will teach you political artistry,
Sermons full of ambiguity and guile.
Waywardness and narrow mindedness on display,
Political apologists give great lessons.
Religion and religious ethnicity are tools,
That keep minds and bodies in total check.
Gamesmanship by leaders is the rule of thumb,
As promises are forgotten once office is obtained.
When writing of this succulent beautiful land,
Write of the air, pregnant with sadistic practices.
This land is being stripped of worldly treasures,
And the greatest treasure is mistreated daily.
The best of nation is the inhabitants,
Ignored are the real gems of this beautiful paradise.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
Love is not condescension, never
that, nor books, nor any marking
on paper, nor what people say of
each other. Love is a tree with
branches reaching into eternity
and roots set deep in eternity,
and no trunk! Have you seen it?
The mind cannot. Your desiring
cannot. The longing you feel for
this loves comes from inside you.
When you become the Friend, your
longing will be as the man in
the ocean who holds to a piece of
wood. Eventually, wood, man, and
oceans become one swaying being,
shams Tabriz, the secret of God.
11k
You play with the great globe of union,
you that see everyone so clearly
and cannot be seen. Even universal
intelligence gets blurry when it thinks
you may leave. You came here alone,
but you create hundreds of new worlds.
Spring is a peacock flirting with
revelation. The rose gardens flame.
Ocean enters the boat. I throw
it all away, except this love for Shams.
7.5k
Khudi ko kar buland itna ke har taqdeer sai pehlay
Khuda banday sai khud poochay bta teri raza kya hai
Raise yourself to such heights so before every destined act
God Himself asks His creation, what is it your desire
Kee Muhammad (S.A.W) sai wafa toonay to hum tairay hain
Ye jahan cheez hai kya loh o kalam tairay hain
If you are loyal to Muhammad (S.A.W) we are yours
This universe is nothing, the Tablet and the Pen are yours
(Allama Iqbal)
May it be Saadi
Or may it be Sherazi
Mansur or Sachal Sarmast
May it be Rumi or Shams
Rabia Basri or Ganj Bakhsh
Bhatai or Baba Rehman
Ghani Khan or Allama Iqbal
All these God-gifted saints
went by giving the same message
Spreading the same thought
The one and unique
The message of the Truth
Under a million veils lie
Behold,
The one and only
Allah...
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 11:24 AM UTC
''A few words of my soul to my heart''
O' Jamil what you seek is a sea of love and not tiny streams
Waves of which will carry you to mystic craved dreams
You will need the light of Shams⒈, a heart of Rumi⒉ the great
And eyes of Iqbal⒊ to explore the love of divine that await
O' Jamil be prepared to sink deep below in waters of love
There is no reverting back thereafter to the world above
You will fade away as small particles in this sacred sea
Only then you will be intoxicated with essence of thee
✑
Notes:-
⒈ Shams, Shams-e-Tabrizi or Shams Al-Din Mohammad was a Iranian Sufi, mystic born in the city of Tabriz in Iranian Azerbaijan.
⒉ Jalal Ad-Din Muḥammad Balkhi also known as Jalal Ad-Din Muḥammad Rumi and popularly known as Mowlana but known to the English-speaking world simply as Rumi, he was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and Sufi mystic.
⒊ Sir Muhammad Iqbal was a Persian and Urdu poet of Pakistan, philosopher and a politician who had great visions for humanity.
✒ ℐamil Hussain
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
Beloved
I yearn night and day
each blood tinged second
for the intravenous
of Your intoxicating Presence
like ripe, ruby grapes crave
to be tread and pressed into
the drunken bliss
of holy wine
Like the cow maiden Radha
and Princess Mirabai
pine for their peacock plumed
Blue Lord’s
rapturous darshan
Like Magdalene’s tears rolling
down her love soaked cheeks
seek only to wash and kiss
gentle Jesus’ celestial
Lotus feet
Like the great scholar Rumi
scouring the desolate streets
of Damascus
searches for even the
faintest echo
ghostly glimpse
of his beloved
God mad vagabond
Shams of Tabriz
Like my breath liberated from this
time bound, earthly form
soars free, unfettered
a shooting star
exploding into the
chaotic brilliance
of Your perfect Love
Your incomprehensible, pristine,
pure, primordial Peace
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
Innocent child
Spark denied
Hardly strived a final strife
Justice died
Mother cried
As hazard tried to save his live
Innocence-spilling massacre
Infant weeping
Held by his dying mother
Suddenly sleeping
Desperately leaving
This world to another
A masterpiece of insanity
A disgrace to humanity
Manipulated politicians
Manipulating ignorants
Discriminating religions
Yet same God is worshiped
Same peaceful visions
Yet all drown in hate
and proudly claim
to be believers
Yet **** in His name
like proud imbeciles
for inhuman leaders
Go read your holy books
Absorb the essence of charity
Accept we're all the same
Refuse the tyranny
Color your brainwashed minds
with stains of compassion
Break the political system
Overshadowing your freedom
Don't let their shams
Carve your misery
Unveil Insanity
Unchain Humanity
~Epic Monkey
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
{ “Awareness : He began to decipher the instant that he was living, deciphering as he lived it, prophesying himself in the act of deciphering the last page of the parchments, as if he were looking into a speaking mirror.” -
Gabriel Garcia Marques }
_________________
Mirrors of Mercury
Who is Shams and who Rumi
is like asking who is fork and who
knife when apart they sing not
a single song to nourish blood
with versal love
mercurial reflect
Who is mirror and who reflection
Is that me ? I ask you
watching your slender bones
move in soiled leather boots
wild slow eyes reflecting YES !
when maiden across the room
gives wicked laughs of NO !
mercurial translate
Who is this dissident beret
alongside the chair ?
Is it self ahead on a future road .....
will someone stroke my back
give ear, lip or cheek
urging body to be young in
takkies and snazzy jacket ?
mercurial question goals
Aah ! Poetic Mirrors !
inking reciting assessing
give respite from a million
images of Self as I circle an
unveiled Flow of Fate
fully awake to naked
poet
mercurial observe
catalytic soul
Copyright © Ghairo Daniels | 2017
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 4:59 AM UTC
Intrepidly neglected, of my lessened reasoning, I am dissected, of my insurrection, from the blessed beens of yesteryear's glints, dancing, parading, and burning, in layers, stages, and fazes, fading, and melting, the plastic faces into the smelting heap, that has come so far, just to inspire me.
Always.
Always you unto me, spiraling, indefinitely into the deep, where ceased is the times, with bloodied hands, and laugh lines, laughing one last time, while glancing toward my watch, under setting suns, and rising stars, smiling faces, and in tearful goodbyes, i realise
The sky's limitlessness
And in all the glory, and all the bliss, the eloquent stories, and the gentle drifts, my imagination uplifts, in wisps of gentleness, where i submit to reason.
Bless-ed be, the one who garners to my support, from a vortex of euphoric antidotes, of mindless quotes, and animated emotes, pulsed, from straight faces, and lost hope.
Ill tell the truth, you can go with nope, in whispered breaths of gun smoke, lathered in lith-dope.
Just trying to cope with the flow, until i crash upon the shores of nevermore, and, explore these holes in my soul intent, ascending from the contempt of bent perspectives, and twisted concepts, letting the blood of the peasant from my arms of harmony, trembling blankly to sleep.
To you a ***** to me tranquility, as i sink, into the world i knew, so that it may be seen, casing the well being, of all the things, and pixelated dreams, from a thieves keep.
Deep, down, below me, in obscurity, i seep, through the soil of my turmoil, until my hand reaches out, from beyond my doubts, and clambers from the shadows, outside of myself.
I am born, of mud, of muck, of the stuff, you're afraid of, and all i bare is love, love to shrug the shams astray, vacating the placation, and dichotomies, unifying light, into one me, shining in the rainy streets, of my deletion
Until my completion
Completely
Erases me.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC
You're like a rose with peddles that've blushed
beautiful, but you bring harm to some when touched.
You're picking a donut when my dreams of cream,
are interrupted by jelly brusting from your seems.
I'm not saying your bad; your different, kind and fair
but like a artifact you must be handled with care.
when I speak of care I mean in how I approach.
You can handle yourself, you are tougher than a coach.
like a star you are beautiful bright and yet distant
but through your years you've become charm resistant.
I see it in your eyes they're deep and dark like a well
so I know in life you've gone through hell.
You don't know trust but you kidding is what you gotta be
if you think a few bets will win you the lottery.
I am not belittling anything you have ever saw
but for all you know this could be the lucky draw.
You and I have a chance and we got a lotto potential.
we will prance forever over potholes; essential-
ly i want you to know i've also had my love bubble busted.
maybe not to you're extent but please just trust this:
we'll ignite real love cause we are the perfect match
you're the only chick with whom i want to hatch
love, that's shocking because we've that have that spark
of realness in our relationship that is so stark-
ly prodigious and worth more that what is in clams
so please be mine in this world full of shams
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
And the ships were fogbound for three days
Their hulls split smiling wide by the spray of the channel
We're hovering with them in the dimness of a drunk sun crawling under
A dusk devoid of color
Welcome rainclouds follow countless bouts of bleakness
Slate-gray miasma of refinery exhaust swirls
Mingling skyward with the overcast scene and all it's gulls and cranes
Cawing in the dampness toward their roosts under jetties
Those frayed hurricane tarps on dilapidated rooftops
Laid creased and faded by morose Texas suns
Epitaphs blotting dismal landscapes of copper and olive
And smashed concrete begging to be reclaimed by nature
As all of it is when the seasons heave
Our interim footnotes disguised by the power of purpose
The notion that one day our role will be to make life better for each other
(Oh, how we loathe being found out)
Instead of grimacing, sage-like, naked and angelic in our blindness by the mirror
While each shred of truth oscillates into blue ruin and we shake, shake, shake
Mesmerized by houses where we once lived and stories we must have led in them
In varied and skewed alternate realities, and in dreams we once had
Some of which paint homage to our own grim summers here
Some in which where my roads leading home were less obfuscated
Instead being laid out like the chemtrail creases drawn solemn on our brows
(We won't notice them until our thirties)
This far south, everything is the ageless vacuum we've known since conception
Thusly we're bound to the irony of it all by dull tradition and the will to break it
Among all other shams bred real by the ambitions of confused white men
Their warring remains reigning evident within my crooked heart
Under whichever corner of earthen floor it may be buried
Your guess is as good as anyone's
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 3:20 PM UTC
I have some things to say to you my friend,
if friends we still are.
Things that I should have said long ago,
things I have always been afraid to say.
In this quiet night, this pregnant silence,
I wonder why you chose to show yourself
in my dream last night, unbidden, unlooked for,
as if you had always belonged there.
Maybe it was only my old heart yearning for company,
or perhaps a guilty conscience, ugly brute that he is.
But I prefer to believe in what feels true,
in what Rumi and Shams would say if I asked.
I knew I was dreaming, but it was the best kind of dream;
a dream that's more real than a summer afternoon.
The kind of dream that begins with waking up;
especially when it's Mandy's wet nose in my face.
I wish I could remember the words you spoke to me,
after you finished laughing that is.
But then, the memory I have I think is enough,
because sometimes words just get in the way of what eyes can say.
You followed me around all day today, purposefully
commenting on the state of my mind,
And heart, as I rushed the day away.
You smiled and laughed and made your fine acquaintance,
when I introduced you to my friend.
Yes my friend, the Cypress I always sit under when I break at work,
he liked you very much, but found you more of a Willow person.
And I didn't realize how the little things are evident more,
when I brushed that cockroach from my knee.
But you pointed out to me that the me you knew once,
would not have simply brushed it aside and let lie.
I guess I finally learned that he has just as much
right to be there as I do, under that Cypress tree.
And that set the wheel in motion, you and the tree;
what else have I been missing?
This is not a love song, nor an ode, nor a plea of some kind;
my heart doesn't have room for motives or means any more.
This is a thank you, an adoration, an exaltation, a hug or three;
a fire rekindled and a regret unmade.
The truth is that I want to say something to you,
something that I don't know will sound right,
Or convey everything that I want to,
but again, sometimes words just get in the way.
The truth is that I have never, ever met someone with the faith and the power and the love and the strength to do what you did. You went all the way to hell and turned back, turned back the dark not with a hate and a burning, but with leaf and branch. I know I don't have the whole story, and that I was gone, in my own way, but I don't think I need to know anymore than what you've told me, what others have told me, and what I've seen. I don't have the words to tell you how much I love you for who you are, and what you did for me when I was nearly lost myself. You gave me hope amid despair, and courage amid cowardice and I just want you to know that when I think of the souls I have met on this road, you shine with the clearest. Thank you Adri.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
The problem wasn't the money
or the fame,
not the taunt, ripe bruises
shining from her heart
or the painful creak of her
hip bones when she moved.
No, the problem wasn't
the seeping words or
the tightness in her chest
every time she passed a church.
It wasn't the way the holiday lights
made her head dizzy or
the floating sensations
in grocery store lines
and it was definitely not
how her associates nonchalantly
patted her back in passing,
blatant excuses to walk on.
It wasn't the smell of soap
or the staring for hours
at the ceiling.
It wasn't the long, smooth metal
of the numbing pipe or
the sweet taste of Sangria wine.
It wasn't the many times
she'd been used or
the indignation that set in
when the walls were quiet.
It wasn't even the tapping pipes
that kept her awake at night
with their torturous monotony.
The problem was not the comparisons
or the dismissive tendencies,
the disconnections,
the draining of her energy
or even the isolation.
It was not the quiet meditation
or the constant spirit guide speak,
not the unpaid bills on the mahogany desk
or the whirring sounds of
a radiator about to explode
in her only transportation.
It never was the monetary lack
or the diseased reality
she was never given
the choice to escape from.
No, the problem was the sadness,
living there in the base of her spine
like a tall, thin castle
spearing up into her vertebrae
until her whole being ached.
It was the way the sadness
made her muscles swell,
and her face become pasted
to cotton pillow shams,
the frown lines starting to
make their way to her chin and
the visuals consistently invading.
It wasn't the crass indifference
piling up on her skin like bones,
the remains of every person who
had touched her and left,
leaving another layer
added to the angst.
Instead it was the secrets
housed inside the sadness,
catacombs of skeletons
break dancing in her ballast,
as if her tears were raindrops
and the sobs a symphony.
So no, it wasn't the way she
robotically moved through her day
or the smiles she feigned,
not the haze in her eyes
left by too many nights of crying
or the sleep where memories faded.
It was just
the sadness.
{recorded version https://soundcloud.com/venniekocsis/the-sadness}
v.k poetry
copyright @ dbv publishing 2013
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 2:46 PM UTC
O’ bewailed seeker of the seeker
Wandering in the corridor of tenet
Yet opening doors as a blind valet
To the master of secular need
That materialistic greed
On your slumping soul it feeds
Won’t you lift the veil from your heart?
For the doors are new yet all the same
To the rooms of silken gold of shame
O’ lamented!
To annihilate this lust and moist your lips
Don’t cup your hand, nor take the sip
“To quench this thirst, be the sea”
Your heart is vessel so sail THIS ship
Cruise the waters; sail wide and strive
Dig the hole deep, drown and rise
O’ grieving self
Now you conserve the flame of “fikr”
You are the sea yet how good is
When contained in self, veiling the bliss?
“To quench your thirst, be the rain”
Sprinkle the leaves and be that trail
Of lush green ivy once livid and pale
Undone the knots and unlock the chains,
For the dust, for the smoke and the fading lights
Aren’t those ones who have most right?
“But to be the rain, must be that vapor”
That gazes at “shams” and let it burn
The glistening surface of its being
Surrenders its berth of cradling sea
And submits its sole to the Highest being
A sage once said Fire and Rain
Are in unison; are one name
Immortality!
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 8:36 AM UTC
None can defy what there is not
So why and how do you?
As Narcissus reigns, how can you contend?
Contentment with the norm, a shameful folk you are
As the faithless faithful preach
We remain steady,
watching through the distance
silently and inquisitively
So when the time arrives
Haste we do not
They, a pitiful bunch, consider us but shams
"How can the peasants rule after all?"
Oh, their gall
And so the farmers and the toilers march
March under the banner of revolution!
No faith to obstruct, no wealth to envy
'Tis but another evolution
Humanity will once again rule itself
Not succumbing, but becoming
its own god and its own master
Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 7:50 AM UTC
**the deity was a ******* up minor god**
**his band of fans saw not the faker ***
of a deceptive trait he did so show
some were blind to looking at the real bloke
others more insightful thought he a joke
true believers weren't indoctrinated
they knew shams could be invalidated
never did he possess the divine glow
why praise the charlatan's counterfeit guff
of it there would be a perennial bluff
his godhead image did dupe the unwise
for these disciples were so unsighted
of him they'd be lastingly blighted
a pretender until his very demise
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
i just hope and pray
to find My Shams,
or the Khizar to my Shams,
before i dock eternally
before the circle starts again.
for All i see blinds me
the more i see blinds me
give me a Khizar to show
show me a Khizar to give
All i live, is a want to love.
All i want is,a love to live
take my boat, take my star
be my boat be my star.
don,t let me float aimlessly
this aimlessness let Shams Be.
---Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
*When they break our window glass
and the shards fall
in silence
turning into the sounds of broken
When you see the fire lanterns
and the great great flames
To all the curses thrown into
your lap
Don't just sit and watch
Your tears roll down
in the shards of
a scattered heart
Stand up now
Throw them back
The shadows fade away
in the air
You can never be crushed
Pull the sky
into your heart
and fight back...
Shams :)*
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 6:45 AM UTC
It felt almost impossible to reach
A wall too thick to be breached
A kingdom of lies and deceit
A chain of Immorality entangling my feet
I was tormented every single second of my life
The devil in me gave me no joy
All I did over and over again was to strife
But he was too determined; my life to destroy
I was'nt selling anything but felt I needed someone to "di me dwa"
My innocence was torn apart and I gave in my heart
My plate was so full I asked myself " borkor dier "...
I had to console myself in the swinging arms of "adonko"
My life was in the injury time
I was loosing and had no time
I didn't know what else to do;
Either to defend or to strike
I gave in to the lust of the flesh
Feminine exploitation was my main 'ish
I played them like "chaskele" ...
For some it was "Stay ; for you "
Deceit was my favourite reality show...
Every word that proceeded out of
My mouth was fiction and lies
Hatred was my shield against love
My life was in shams
All was stripped away
When it was all about to go down,
I heard a soft voice inside
Child; it whispered ...
Do not trouble nor despair
Your broken soul, I can totally repair
At the sound of these words, I whimpered
It was the voice of the holy spirit .
He said to me child... Find that space !
That Jerico walled space ; child !!
Find it !!! Find it !!!
Fill that space with Me !!!
Set your affections on the things above ...
Not on things of the earth for thou art dead
And your life is hid with christ in God
Alas!!! it dawned on me !! I was reborn
For christ in me was my hope of Glory
For when christ who is my life shall appear ,
Then with him in his glory shall I also appear.
In him, I find life eternal. Praise be to Him
In him, I find true peace and meaning. Glory !!!
He is MY HOPE, MY JOY
Make him yours too !!!
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
in passing through highways,
lined with stray trees, ordered erratic
I watch my secrets climb and branch out
as the leaves confluence together,
pondering on at our rush hour madness
I climb a mango tree in my childhood reverie
sitting atop along with a gaze into my future
a fatso, chomping belly full on deeds of my past
I hear the hopes in children talk
boundaries , shame , other human constructs
still haven't filled their muddy pockets
with eyes of wonder, lilies get attention
miracles are there for our seeking
the need to finish, conclude...
other futile human pursuits,
I hear how dogs yawn at our shams
the end of everything is
the beginning of something new
but we aren't there to witness
entrapped in our misery
prisoners to maps,
when the land lays bare before us
hypnotized by photographs
until the deterioration of participants
goes unnoticed
I hear
the bones inside me shout, claustrophobic
the dammed blood raging , release
untold ideas in icicles , impaled
I watch
the birds cross Atlantic , free
the universe in details, beauty
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
Walk mildly,
slowly like an ascetic
Like you see the destination,
its shams and pretence,
Its momentary bliss
And the new destination again,
Walk like nothing excites you
Or worry you,
your gnawing past or
hungry present or
starving future,
Pay heed to none,
They will doubt you
Many will cast abusive looks
when you undertake a task
inconcievable by them,
Pay no attention
Move on like you are deaf
Speak not like you are dumb,
Many greats have walked this path
Deaf, Dumb and Blind,
So cut the noise
shut your eye,
This mediocre crowd
is not worthy of your attention.
Move on like an ascetic
Like you know your destination.
Jul 25, 2022
Jul 25, 2022 at 8:13 AM UTC
as Rumi after
meeting Shams--
plunged in
The Ocean.
proffered pearls...
whirling dervish.
exalted and exalting~
Jun 9, 2019
Jun 9, 2019 at 2:11 PM UTC
I find that
there are nights
where I think so much
of hearing the morning alarm
snap the neck of a dream about
dancing in motel rooms
with the phantom of my affection,
just to wake up to see
it's my body alone taking up the sheets
and shedding hair on satin shams,
that I become reluctant
to turn every light off.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 10:18 PM UTC