"sunne" poems - Hello Poetry

29 August ko hui thi pehli mulakaat, Taraste they sunne ko wo unki aahat. 5 september ko hui unki dosti, Ek ladki jo shaadi se bhut darti. Intezaar mein baithe rehte they wo, Baar baar niharte shayad koi paigaam aaya ** Hokar mayoos fir laut jaate, Maheeno baad messages ke reply aate. Bhut intezaar kara hai mahadev ne, Milne ko apni shivani se. Izhaar tou bhut baar kiya tha unhone, Har baar mazak mein taal diya pagli ne. Wo bhi bhut pyaar karti thi, Par haa mein jawab dene se darti. 9 maheene tak intezaar karaya, Fir ek din bn gyi unka humsaaya. Tham liya ek duje ka haath, Dene ke liye janam janam ka saath. 31 may zindagi ka sabse khaas din, Ek pal bhi guzar nahi sakte bin. Chand ko pyaari hai chandni jaise, Dil se dil jude hain aise. Chahe meelon dur hain wo, Mehsoos kar skte hain ehsaaso ko. Ek aisi pavitra paak rooh hai unki, Khuda smjh ibadat kr sakti.

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Nov 13, 2019

Nov 13, 2019 at 8:39 AM UTC

sonia-manish-shrivastav

Pyaara sa safar

29 August ko hui thi pehli mulakaat, Taraste they sunne ko wo unki aahat. 5 september ko hui unki dosti, Ek ladki jo shaadi se bhut darti. Intezaar mein baithe rehte they wo, Baar baar niharte shayad koi paigaam aaya ** Hokar mayoos fir laut jaate, Maheeno baad messages ke reply aate. Bhut intezaar kara hai mahadev ne, Milne ko apni shivani se. Izhaar tou bhut baar kiya tha unhone, Har baar mazak mein taal diya pagli ne. Wo bhi bhut pyaar karti thi, Par haa mein jawab dene se darti. 9 maheene tak intezaar karaya, Fir ek din bn gyi unka humsaaya. Tham liya ek duje ka haath, Dene ke liye janam janam ka saath. 31 may zindagi ka sabse khaas din, Ek pal bhi guzar nahi sakte bin. Chand ko pyaari hai chandni jaise, Dil se dil jude hain aise. Chahe meelon dur hain wo, Mehsoos kar skte hain ehsaaso ko. Ek aisi pavitra paak rooh hai unki, Khuda smjh ibadat kr sakti.

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Meri paidaish k waqt woh khushi aur fikr ke mix emotions mein kho raha tha.... Mujhe janam to meri maa de rahi thi, par usse dekh inhe bhi dard ** raha tha. Jab main bol nahi pata,tabse meri khawahisho ko pura karne ka zimma uthaya tha... Kandhe pe bitha kar duniya dikhayi aur ungli pakad ke papa ne chalna sikhaya tha. Bhale khud,hindi medium mein aathwi kaksha tak ki thi padhai.... Par paise jama kar kar, seher ki best English school mein meri admission thi karwayi. Office mein over time kar ke, mere future ki planning mein paise bachate the..... Khud eid pe purane kapde pehente, par humare liye naye kapde silwate the. Par tab zindagi mein, papa ka balidan aur pyaar kaha samjh mein aana tha..... Papa ko thank u, i love u baad mein keh denge abhi to sirf paisa kamana tha. Phir ek raat dosto k sang, madhoshi humpe chahi thi..... Par waha fikr k maare papa ko neend kaha aayi thi. Papa ka phone aaya to number dekh pehle phone kaat diya..... Jab wapas call aaya to "kyun pareshan kar rahe ** keh kar papa ko daat diya. Phir agli subah phone aaya to socha, papa ko baar baar phone karne k liye naa kahe.... Par samne se awaz aayi "yeh jiska phn hai, unhe raste pe dil ka dora aaya, aur woh abb nahi rahe" Aaj raat hai par sulane wala nahi.... Dost aur party hai par phn kar haal puchne wala nahi. Aaj kehne to bahut kuch hai, par koi sunne wala nahi... Abb bol sakta hoon, phir bhi khawahisho ko pura karne wala nahi. Jab keh sakta tha tab maine kaha nahi.... Aaj paisa to bohot hai, par thank u, i love u kehne ko papa nahi.

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Apr 8, 2019

Apr 8, 2019 at 12:30 AM UTC

Hozefa

Papa

Meri paidaish k waqt woh khushi aur fikr ke mix emotions mein kho raha tha.... Mujhe janam to meri maa de rahi thi, par usse dekh inhe bhi dard ** raha tha. Jab main bol nahi pata,tabse meri khawahisho ko pura karne ka zimma uthaya tha... Kandhe pe bitha kar duniya dikhayi aur ungli pakad ke papa ne chalna sikhaya tha. Bhale khud,hindi medium mein aathwi kaksha tak ki thi padhai.... Par paise jama kar kar, seher ki best English school mein meri admission thi karwayi. Office mein over time kar ke, mere future ki planning mein paise bachate the..... Khud eid pe purane kapde pehente, par humare liye naye kapde silwate the. Par tab zindagi mein, papa ka balidan aur pyaar kaha samjh mein aana tha..... Papa ko thank u, i love u baad mein keh denge abhi to sirf paisa kamana tha. Phir ek raat dosto k sang, madhoshi humpe chahi thi..... Par waha fikr k maare papa ko neend kaha aayi thi. Papa ka phone aaya to number dekh pehle phone kaat diya..... Jab wapas call aaya to "kyun pareshan kar rahe ** keh kar papa ko daat diya. Phir agli subah phone aaya to socha, papa ko baar baar phone karne k liye naa kahe.... Par samne se awaz aayi "yeh jiska phn hai, unhe raste pe dil ka dora aaya, aur woh abb nahi rahe" Aaj raat hai par sulane wala nahi.... Dost aur party hai par phn kar haal puchne wala nahi. Aaj kehne to bahut kuch hai, par koi sunne wala nahi... Abb bol sakta hoon, phir bhi khawahisho ko pura karne wala nahi. Jab keh sakta tha tab maine kaha nahi.... Aaj paisa to bohot hai, par thank u, i love u kehne ko papa nahi.

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Being The Shortest Day ’Tis the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes, Lucies, who scarce seaven houres herself unmaskes, The Sunne is spent, and now his flasks Send forth light squibs, no constant rayes; The worlds whole sap is sunke: The generall balme th’ hydroptique earth hath drunk, Whither, as to the beds-feet, life is shrunk, Dead and interr’d; yet all these seem to laugh, Compar’d with mee, who am their Epitaph. Study me then, you who shall lovers bee At the next world, that is, at the next Spring: For I am every dead thing, In whom love wrought new Alchimie. For his art did expresse A quintessence even from nothingnesse, From dull privations, and leane emptinesse: He ruin’d mee, and I am re-begot Of absence, darknesse, death—things which are not. All others, from all things, draw all that’s good, Life, soule, forme, spirit, whence they beeing have; I, by loves limbecke, am the grave Of all, that’s nothing. Oft a flood Have wee two wept, and so Drownd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow To be two Chaosses, when we did show Care to ought else; and often absences Withdrew our soules, and made us carcasses. But I am by her death—which word wrongs her— Of the first nothing, the Elixer grown; Were I a man, that I were one, I needs must know; I should preferre, If I were any beast, Some ends, some means; Yea plants, yea stones detest, And love; All, all some properties invest; If I an ordinary nothing were, As shadow, a light, and body must be here. But I am None; nor will my Sunne renew. You lovers, for whose sake, the lesser Sunne At this time to the Goat is runne To fetch new lust, and give it you, Enjoy your summer all; Since shee enjoyes her long nights festivall, Let mee prepare towards her, and let mee call This houre her Vigill, and her Eve, since this Bothe the yeares, and the dayes deep midnight is.

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1.8k

John Donne

A Nocturnall Upon St. Lucies Day

Being The Shortest Day ’Tis the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes, Lucies, who scarce seaven houres herself unmaskes, The Sunne is spent, and now his flasks Send forth light squibs, no constant rayes; The worlds whole sap is sunke: The generall balme th’ hydroptique earth hath drunk, Whither, as to the beds-feet, life is shrunk, Dead and interr’d; yet all these seem to laugh, Compar’d with mee, who am their Epitaph. Study me then, you who shall lovers bee At the next world, that is, at the next Spring: For I am every dead thing, In whom love wrought new Alchimie. For his art did expresse A quintessence even from nothingnesse, From dull privations, and leane emptinesse: He ruin’d mee, and I am re-begot Of absence, darknesse, death—things which are not. All others, from all things, draw all that’s good, Life, soule, forme, spirit, whence they beeing have; I, by loves limbecke, am the grave Of all, that’s nothing. Oft a flood Have wee two wept, and so Drownd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow To be two Chaosses, when we did show Care to ought else; and often absences Withdrew our soules, and made us carcasses. But I am by her death—which word wrongs her— Of the first nothing, the Elixer grown; Were I a man, that I were one, I needs must know; I should preferre, If I were any beast, Some ends, some means; Yea plants, yea stones detest, And love; All, all some properties invest; If I an ordinary nothing were, As shadow, a light, and body must be here. But I am None; nor will my Sunne renew. You lovers, for whose sake, the lesser Sunne At this time to the Goat is runne To fetch new lust, and give it you, Enjoy your summer all; Since shee enjoyes her long nights festivall, Let mee prepare towards her, and let mee call This houre her Vigill, and her Eve, since this Bothe the yeares, and the dayes deep midnight is.

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Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this, The intelligence that moves, devotion is, And as the other Spheares, by being growne Subject to forraigne motion, lose their owne, And being by others hurried every day, Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey: Pleasure or businesse, so, our Soules admit For their first mover, and are whirld by it. Hence is't, that I am carryed towards the West This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East. There I should see a Sunne, by rising set, And by that setting endlesse day beget; But that Christ on this Crosse, did rise and fall, Sinne had eternally benighted all. Yet dare I'almost be glad, I do not see That spectacle of too much weight for mee. What a death were it then to see God dye? It made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke, It made his footstoole crack, and the Sunne winke. Could I behold those hands which span the Poles, And tune all spheares at once peirc'd with those holes? Could I behold that endlesse height which is Zenith to us, and our Antipodes, Humbled below us? or that blood which is The seat of all our Soules, if not of his, Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne By God, for his apparell, rag'd, and torne? If on these things I durst not looke, durst I Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye, Who was Gods partner here, and furnish'd thus Halfe of that Sacrifice, which ransom'd us? Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye, They'are present yet unto my memory, For that looks towards them; and thou look'st towards mee, O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree; I turne my backe to thee, but to receive Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave. O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee, Burne off my rusts, and my deformity, Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace, That thou may'st know mee, and I'll turne my face.

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1.8k

John Donne

Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward

Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this, The intelligence that moves, devotion is, And as the other Spheares, by being growne Subject to forraigne motion, lose their owne, And being by others hurried every day, Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey: Pleasure or businesse, so, our Soules admit For their first mover, and are whirld by it. Hence is't, that I am carryed towards the West This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East. There I should see a Sunne, by rising set, And by that setting endlesse day beget; But that Christ on this Crosse, did rise and fall, Sinne had eternally benighted all. Yet dare I'almost be glad, I do not see That spectacle of too much weight for mee. What a death were it then to see God dye? It made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke, It made his footstoole crack, and the Sunne winke. Could I behold those hands which span the Poles, And tune all spheares at once peirc'd with those holes? Could I behold that endlesse height which is Zenith to us, and our Antipodes, Humbled below us? or that blood which is The seat of all our Soules, if not of his, Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne By God, for his apparell, rag'd, and torne? If on these things I durst not looke, durst I Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye, Who was Gods partner here, and furnish'd thus Halfe of that Sacrifice, which ransom'd us? Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye, They'are present yet unto my memory, For that looks towards them; and thou look'st towards mee, O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree; I turne my backe to thee, but to receive Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave. O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee, Burne off my rusts, and my deformity, Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace, That thou may'st know mee, and I'll turne my face.

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Tichborne's Elegie, (written with his owne hand in the Tower before his execution) My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, My feast of joy is but a dish of paine, My Crop of corne is but a field of tares, And al my good is but vaine hope of gaine. The day is past, and yet I saw no sunne, And now I live, and now my life is done. My tale was heard, and yet it was not told, My fruite is falne, & yet my leaves are greene: My youth is spent, and yet I am not old, I saw the world, and yet I was not seene. My thred is cut, and yet it is not spunne, And now I live, and now my life is done. I sought my death, and found it in my wombe, I lookt for life, and saw it was a shade: I trod the earth, and knew it was my Tombe, And now I die, and now I was but made. My glasse is full, and now my glasse is runne, And now I live, and now my life is done.

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Jun 7, 2014

Jun 7, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC

stillcrazyafteralltheseye

Elegy by Tichborne (1586)

Tichborne's Elegie, (written with his owne hand in the Tower before his execution) My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, My feast of joy is but a dish of paine, My Crop of corne is but a field of tares, And al my good is but vaine hope of gaine. The day is past, and yet I saw no sunne, And now I live, and now my life is done. My tale was heard, and yet it was not told, My fruite is falne, & yet my leaves are greene: My youth is spent, and yet I am not old, I saw the world, and yet I was not seene. My thred is cut, and yet it is not spunne, And now I live, and now my life is done. I sought my death, and found it in my wombe, I lookt for life, and saw it was a shade: I trod the earth, and knew it was my Tombe, And now I die, and now I was but made. My glasse is full, and now my glasse is runne, And now I live, and now my life is done.

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TERE DIL ME RAHNE KA SHAUK THA HAMEE BETAHASHA ; TERE SATH KII IS DIL KOO TALAB THI; TERE LABH SE KUD KA NAAM SUNNE KA ZID THA… TU ZINDAGI TOH PAHLE SEE THI MERI; AUR SHYAD AB ZEENE KA KARAN BHI HOO *** … CHAH KAR BHI TERE KARIB AANE SE DARTA HUU; DIN RAAT TUJHE SOCH KAR BHI LABH *** LANE SEE DARTA HUU; TIL TIL KAR TERE SATH KO MARTA HUU…. AUR KOI PUJHE TOH BAS, HAS KAR ITNA KAHTA HUU; WO EK MUSAFIR THI JISKI MANJIL MAI NAA THA ; WO EK CHAKOR THI JISKA CHAND MAI NAA THA; WO EK DARIYA THI JISKA SAHIL MAI NAA THA… EK BAR FIR SEE USKEE LIYE YEE DIL MACHAL RAHA HAI; FIR SEE NAYE SAPNE DEKHNE KOO YEE DIL MAR RAHA HAI ; KAISE SAMJHAUU IS NADAN PARINDEE KOO ; KII TUU EK BAR FIR TUTNE KI OOR BADH RAHA HAI…. WOO KAHTE THE IS JHUTE ISK KI BATEE NA KIA KARO; DIL TUMHARA HAMME CHOR KISI AUR KE LIYE BHI DHARKEGA ; KUCH DIN ME AASHIKI KA BHUKAR BHI SAR SEE UTREGA ; PAR AB KYA BATAE JANAB KOO , DEKHE UNHE TOH MANO EK ARSA SAA HOO GAYA; PAR AAJ BHI WOO HAR EK PAL ENN SANSOO ME RAVA HAI; AAJ BHI IS DIL ME BAS UNKI HI JAGAH HAI; UNKI YAD ME AAJ BHI RAATE KATHI HAI HAMARI; FARK BAS ITNA HAI HAMARI CHAHTE EK DUSRE SEE JUDAA HAI….

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Sep 25, 2017

Sep 25, 2017 at 1:03 AM UTC

Samraat

Mid-night thoughts

TERE DIL ME RAHNE KA SHAUK THA HAMEE BETAHASHA ; TERE SATH KII IS DIL KOO TALAB THI; TERE LABH SE KUD KA NAAM SUNNE KA ZID THA… TU ZINDAGI TOH PAHLE SEE THI MERI; AUR SHYAD AB ZEENE KA KARAN BHI HOO *** … CHAH KAR BHI TERE KARIB AANE SE DARTA HUU; DIN RAAT TUJHE SOCH KAR BHI LABH *** LANE SEE DARTA HUU; TIL TIL KAR TERE SATH KO MARTA HUU…. AUR KOI PUJHE TOH BAS, HAS KAR ITNA KAHTA HUU; WO EK MUSAFIR THI JISKI MANJIL MAI NAA THA ; WO EK CHAKOR THI JISKA CHAND MAI NAA THA; WO EK DARIYA THI JISKA SAHIL MAI NAA THA… EK BAR FIR SEE USKEE LIYE YEE DIL MACHAL RAHA HAI; FIR SEE NAYE SAPNE DEKHNE KOO YEE DIL MAR RAHA HAI ; KAISE SAMJHAUU IS NADAN PARINDEE KOO ; KII TUU EK BAR FIR TUTNE KI OOR BADH RAHA HAI…. WOO KAHTE THE IS JHUTE ISK KI BATEE NA KIA KARO; DIL TUMHARA HAMME CHOR KISI AUR KE LIYE BHI DHARKEGA ; KUCH DIN ME AASHIKI KA BHUKAR BHI SAR SEE UTREGA ; PAR AB KYA BATAE JANAB KOO , DEKHE UNHE TOH MANO EK ARSA SAA HOO GAYA; PAR AAJ BHI WOO HAR EK PAL ENN SANSOO ME RAVA HAI; AAJ BHI IS DIL ME BAS UNKI HI JAGAH HAI; UNKI YAD ME AAJ BHI RAATE KATHI HAI HAMARI; FARK BAS ITNA HAI HAMARI CHAHTE EK DUSRE SEE JUDAA HAI….

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Hast thou cometh here cyndelich ande in beaute with the erli ande feintest daunen, whilst the undaunted niht sky wilt newely beren the daies spring once more; ande dare I asken if perhaps I dreem, or if you trewly do drape thy leoft hand gentilly o'er my right syde, whilst callening me, the struggling budde, to sprightlich issue forth; ande morph into a myghty florishener, then leoft to beggen most intently to be swathen in a manere of soole luve, all in the mysty morwening liht? I shall e'er awaiten your andsware, for now in effect oan, 'till the dai that I am growen -perhaps n'er to escapen for the vine, but aye in the blest sunne.

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Dec 7, 2014

Dec 7, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC

jamie-l-cantore

A Beggar To Desire (Middle English Version)

Hast thou cometh here cyndelich ande in beaute with the erli ande feintest daunen, whilst the undaunted niht sky wilt newely beren the daies spring once more; ande dare I asken if perhaps I dreem, or if you trewly do drape thy leoft hand gentilly o'er my right syde, whilst callening me, the struggling budde, to sprightlich issue forth; ande morph into a myghty florishener, then leoft to beggen most intently to be swathen in a manere of soole luve, all in the mysty morwening liht? I shall e'er awaiten your andsware, for now in effect oan, 'till the dai that I am growen -perhaps n'er to escapen for the vine, but aye in the blest sunne.

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Meet me beneath the olive-tre I'th'garden of Gethsemane Quhair Jesus pray'd. Pray thou with me. Twa corbies mak an hairie nest Within the gardens wooden brest. The Sunne is running tow'rd the west. From off the tre the fruict doth fall Upon the firm fixt flatten'd ball Of wormwood Earth whose seas are gall.

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Jun 3, 2024

Jun 3, 2024 at 5:45 PM UTC

Christian

Olives

Meet me beneath the olive-tre I'th'garden of Gethsemane Quhair Jesus pray'd. Pray thou with me. Twa corbies mak an hairie nest Within the gardens wooden brest. The Sunne is running tow'rd the west. From off the tre the fruict doth fall Upon the firm fixt flatten'd ball Of wormwood Earth whose seas are gall.

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My sun , My brightest star. You're 147 million km to far. Although I'm out at night , And you at day. Eclipse in my arms you'll lay. The only time our love doesn't burn the cornea. Mo_poet

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Aug 18, 2019

Aug 18, 2019 at 3:13 AM UTC

Mo_poet

Sunne

My sun , My brightest star. You're 147 million km to far. Although I'm out at night , And you at day. Eclipse in my arms you'll lay. The only time our love doesn't burn the cornea. Mo_poet

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Rabab baj rahi thi kahi, jaha khuda bhi naach raha tha, Phir na jaane kaunsi yaad-e-dard baraat leke agayi. Naghma jo lehrake aayi, banke sur-e-shahen shah, Wo sur jo nafs se mile, to khud dard banke beh gayi. Aye mere jaan-o-dil, jamal-e-mah suna teri nazm-e-kamal, Hum to ro rahe hain, jab se teri lafzon, aasu ban ke beh gayi. Andaaz mat pucho koi, apna batane layak nahi rahi, Khair agar puch hi liya hai, to kya batayen, koi andaz hi nahi rahi. Bata to denge hum, par koi kyun sunega, Khair agar sun hi liya hai, to sun ke bhi kya samjhega. Baatein to bohot hain, gar koi sunna chahe to,Par kaun sunne ke liye baitha rahe? Khair agar baith hi gaya ** to ek be-kafan lash ka,Nazm-e-ashk bhi sun ke jao. Ro to nahi rahe the hum, wo kam to apna lafz kar raha tha, Achanak wo rabab yaad agayi, jis pe khuda nach raha tha. Hum to baithe the, ab khare ** gaye, Na jaane apna rone ki awaaz, us mehfil ko kharab na karde. Ab mai chal raha hoon, kahi aur jaa raha hoon, Kidhar jaa raha hoon, utna nahi pata, Bas rabab se dur chala jaun, Nayi mehfil sajane, udhar firse nazm-e-ashk bhi suna na hai.

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Oct 27, 2024

Oct 27, 2024 at 11:21 AM UTC

Aarib

nazm e ashk

Rabab baj rahi thi kahi, jaha khuda bhi naach raha tha, Phir na jaane kaunsi yaad-e-dard baraat leke agayi. Naghma jo lehrake aayi, banke sur-e-shahen shah, Wo sur jo nafs se mile, to khud dard banke beh gayi. Aye mere jaan-o-dil, jamal-e-mah suna teri nazm-e-kamal, Hum to ro rahe hain, jab se teri lafzon, aasu ban ke beh gayi. Andaaz mat pucho koi, apna batane layak nahi rahi, Khair agar puch hi liya hai, to kya batayen, koi andaz hi nahi rahi. Bata to denge hum, par koi kyun sunega, Khair agar sun hi liya hai, to sun ke bhi kya samjhega. Baatein to bohot hain, gar koi sunna chahe to,Par kaun sunne ke liye baitha rahe? Khair agar baith hi gaya ** to ek be-kafan lash ka,Nazm-e-ashk bhi sun ke jao. Ro to nahi rahe the hum, wo kam to apna lafz kar raha tha, Achanak wo rabab yaad agayi, jis pe khuda nach raha tha. Hum to baithe the, ab khare ** gaye, Na jaane apna rone ki awaaz, us mehfil ko kharab na karde. Ab mai chal raha hoon, kahi aur jaa raha hoon, Kidhar jaa raha hoon, utna nahi pata, Bas rabab se dur chala jaun, Nayi mehfil sajane, udhar firse nazm-e-ashk bhi suna na hai.

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haalat e Dard mein khud Ko bhi nahi keh pata isliye .. Juda hu khud se... pagalpan aur Awarapan me ... Ek awaaz pyaar ki Tadapta hu sunne ke liye ... Aur raaton ki neend Ko bhula deta hu Bekaari me Sharaab ki aadat me .. .

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Mar 17, 2018

Mar 17, 2018 at 6:02 PM UTC

ravindra-nayak

Na Jane kya dhoondta hai yeh mera Dil...

haalat e Dard mein khud Ko bhi nahi keh pata isliye .. Juda hu khud se... pagalpan aur Awarapan me ... Ek awaaz pyaar ki Tadapta hu sunne ke liye ... Aur raaton ki neend Ko bhula deta hu Bekaari me Sharaab ki aadat me .. .

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