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O, but needst I to listen to t'ese wishes, benign as t'ey are, but wild and inevitable-yet inaudible as dreams. Burnt by sophisticated passion, and whirring hells of torpid astonishment as my being at t'is moment, but smooth and glowing tenderly with affection-as thy love still I long for, woven so secretly ye' neatly alongst th' tangled paths of my mind! Yes, and its layers-turbulent patches of skin, yellow skin, crafted passionately by whose Creator, and imbued with unconquerable infatuation just like 'tis now. But no breathing soul canst I bestow it on-this overarching destiny, healthy and red as t'ose garden plums-impatient in t'eir wait for the shiny May summer-aside from thee, as 'tis but always thee, Kozarev! Uninvited as I am, by any other'ness' t'at might as well enrich my love story, as enough I feel, about t'at unrelenting history! Thou art th' sole man, th' only justified heart whom I adoreth, and want, so selfishly, to marry! As ripe as t'eir lips might be-but stifling, and immature in constitution, thinkable only when juxtaposed merrily with t'ose squirming nymphets about yon schoolyard; corrupted not as a newborn fern-with thighs carefully fastened to greedy-looking material, basked in immaculate sunlight, and so fresh to human sight, when all t'ese circumstances art but chaste no more, but beg, beg our hearts, and implore our worrying souls, to stay.

O Kozarev! Startled wasth I, to enter into thy proceedings, yester! Like an imbecile now my whole countenance-and its entire, ****** constitution-ah, but depleted, harmfully depleted, by laughter. What a raft of cynical conflagration! How grimly sadistic, ye' poetic in some ways! And t'ese remarks, and praises of love-begin but to dwelleth upon me all over again. Distracted is my firmness-by thy invincible power, guileless as thou hath always been, seeming not to hath heard my volatile heartbeat; and how doth I uttereth t'ose chuckles to my own mirrors upon flinging back into my bedchamber whenst our exchanges areth over. But indignant art thou not to my reddish blushes-which, like t'ose thorns of morning roses-enliven my soul up from within, after t'eir bleak winter!-and blanch darkly all my griefs away. In a thousand years and I shalt still miss thee, just like t'is, but 'tis just now t'at futility seemeth no more capable of wooing my calamity-and indulge it so adversely t'at it shalt turn towards me! Yes, how thou hath, with holiness, touched and entrapped my amorous passion, my love! In t'ese dreams-flourishing dreams, just like th' greenish pond and its superficial foliage outside, I but walk by thy moonlight and be blessed in thy fascination. Mighty and balmy shalt be th' sky overhead, hanging aloft with its mild arrogance, smelling like roofs of restrained rain-musty and soaking with glittering reproof; and wan abomination. But pure! Purity is but its sanctity, and protected by miraculous heavens, dwindling about like whitewashed statues being shoved around by a deadly lagoon of children-unknowing of what tomorrow shalt baffle us on, with faces of steel-like jubilance. And th' trees! Tropical wands be t'eir refuge-but horrifying as t'eir remorse-ah, in which souls shalt be brought about whirls of contemptuous winds, enslaved and stupefied all th' time-by mounds and havens of gruesome cruelty. But no care doth I fix on yon mortification-as thou art t'ere with me, Kozarev! Strolls shalt we take-t'ose encompassed by purplish and cheerful verdure, who admire us from t'eir gold-like stems afar-and into each other's cleavages shalt we retreat, by th' means of stories-yes, my love, stories of glee, pleasure, and yet-uneasiness, in order t'at t'ey shalt be wounded away and superseded by joy. Our love, rings of love, t'at is to come as immediate as nature might permit, and shalt allow us to admit-as yester hath unfolded, by bracing my feet for bouncing outside, across t'ese carpeted tiles-into th' very vicinity of thy chamber. Ah, thy handsome face! As white as pearls-yet frail as th' bulbous chirping snow. May I console 'em, my love, by my hands proffered-in th' most honourable marriage I desireth to come? But look, look afar, how t'ose stars-in t'is merciless universe, whispereth to one another, and talk gaily between t'eir wicked souls, of plans on bewildering our love-our bonds of vivid, mature fragrant compliments! How t'eir jealousy is mockery, and a swelling threat to us. And th' moon t'at is combing the hair, again, of t'at vicious ethereal princess-with a snooty swish of anot'er black hair-which is but a sea of anguished torment to me, should she descend the steps of her own ***** maidenhood-and carry herself off into our earth. Hark, how she doth it! How heathen, and indecent! But canst thou hear that-Kozarev? Canst thou be knowing of her shamelessness-and her counterfeit jewels? And her claws, her foster claws-ah, sharp as bullets, and notorious as her own evil heart! Luxury t'at is fake, ye' miserably auspicious! How I loathe her! Boil doth my temper at her genteel sight-and hostile auras, with t'at pair of necklaces t'at wasth born from falsehood, and ah! concealed deceit by portraits of clever contentment. How should thou hath seen her lips twitch over and over again, upon her setting t'at blackening imbecile gaze on me-me, who albeit from th' same brethren, but far from her flawless marches and stately refinement. And a creature, just a minuscule part of th' others, t'at she deems unworthy ye' deserving of torture! Silver and gold is she exclusively acquainted with, whenst torches in my garden art not even set alight. But look! How thou proudly saunter forward to welcome her, and salute her unforgiving cordiality with th' marks of thy lips, on her hand! And how t'is view scythes my chest, my heart, and tears it open just like th' blade of a sneaky knife shalt do. I am dying, dying from t'is tampered heart! And t'ese candles of my heart t'at hath been heartlessly watered-look how t'ey art brimming with sweat in cold demise. O Kozarev! Hath I been too late to seek thy love? Thy hands, my faultless prince, art but th' only mercy I canst pray for! Hath nature been so unfair as to savour all my dreams, ah, and even t'is single longing-and bequeath onto me a tragic life of undesired ghostlike mimes-in th' wholeness of my future? Thou art th' lost charm of t'at wholeness, my love, and should be I bereft of thee again, I shalt but be robbed of my entirety-and pride, womanly pride t'at I sadly out'ta hath. Ah, Kozarev, in thy movements doth I find bliss-a creaking blow to my wood-like stillness, and a cure for my sickly contrivances. I came here for thee, and always didst! Canst thou hear t'at-and satisfy this fierce longing with just a second of thy soundless touch? Lights flicker, and smile in t'eir subsequent death-but t'is is a token of subservient passion. And I shalt not give up like 'em-as t'is life greets us once only, before transporting us into regions of th' unknown-yes, it doth, my love, wherein eerieness is still questioned and overtly unfathomed. Ah, and before death I long to have you-Kozarev, and sit as we shalt-side by side, charmed by our generous yet moronic affection, until th' earth doth make us part, and shalt then we retreat into our most dimmed apertures.

Thou art my blissful paradise, Kozarev! Thy presence but bringst out my well of solemn cheers and proud, sun-like congeniality. And in t'is warm, gentle spring I shalt write but merely on thy vivacity! O imagination-blame, and curse her as thou might do, is in fact, my key, to my newborn triumph and infallible victory; th' marks of glimmering satisfaction-and visible restoration of my sin, my soul. T'is is because I believe, strongly, with all th' forlorn might of my heart, t'at sincerity shalt forever tower over every tweak of malevolent innocence and repressed wishes for destruction. 'Tis, Kozarev, is th' voice emanating towards me from within; and bracing t'ese lips, and *****, for facing her-t'at accursed rival of mine, with bravery and independence I hath never been brought to acknowledge. Ah, petrified as my customs let me be, conviction shalt stay within my hands; and t'at shadow-o, picture of our old days together, on th' veranda-yes, decorated with lights of our love, spur me on. Thy love is born as, and devoted to mine, my love! Crafted, shaped, and designated for me only-and to be mine, only mine-for evermore. We art but a chain of perfect concord, as God hath so sweetly decreed! And I shalt doth nothing else as remarkable as determine to retrieve it-with all th' charms and intellect t'at I possess-and my words as sugar sweet, as well as th' leaves of grace and my becoming, comely wit.
O but tainted thou wert with grief,
as a thunder entrapped thy leaf.
In t'is corner doth I just weep-
as canst I afford no more sleep.

Like a songbird t'at leaveth its nest;
canst I not put myself to rest.
Ah, without th' tunes of thy sound feet-
t'ese rainbows sooneth begineth to fleet!

How could my pleasure nature cheat!
Trembling wasth I, with gentle wit!
As I dressed up for thee back then;
and combed my black hair by pale hand.

But thou wert just nowhere to find!
Ah! T'at evilness which made thee blind!
Its vicious trap hath left thee bare;
in yon bland middle of nowhere!

I longed to greet and console thee;
as thou sang loud and sat by me!
Burying thee in my *****;
Lent thee kisses 'till thou felt warm!

And coaxed thee as thou laughed out free-
with sparks of gentle flattery!
Ah! Thy eyes full of sheer mystery,
black and as deep as harmony.

And whispereth would I to thy ear-
t'at I love thee more every day.
T'ere would we lay gladly so near-
with passions t'at never decay.

Ah! How t'ose phantoms now lurk away!
But why still hath I noneth to say?-
Th' moment I frequent'd thy den;
Thou wert still not seen safe back then!

Thin wasth th' vapoured grass outside;
with clips of smile astretched wide!
But canst I only sob in dire gloom;
with red lights crowding in my room.

O, I miss thee now-I want thee now!
But to meet thee I can't see how-
Thy by her charms, and in her arms-
t'at harlot that canst feign thy warmth!

Ah, t'is imprisonment I cherish
For some time it might bringst me bliss!
But still it's thy portrait I kiss-
which I pursued by secret wish!

Love, bestoweth t'is chance on me once more!
To sweet-talk with thee like afore-
just as though there's no tomorrow;
meet me downstairs when no-one shows!

And t'is poem I compose in blue;
with despair in my lonely heart.
To assureth me t'at thou be true,
and we shalt never be apart!

O, it's thee t'at I yearn for, my love;
like th' stars to th' moon above.
And hail I t'ese complications-
as wings to our destinations.
brandon nagley Oct 2015
ii.

Sampaguitas to fragrance her mane
She whispereth sir Brandon;
Mine husband
Mine king.

ii.

I layeth down the counterpane
frankincense and myrrh aligned;
Tea candles surrounding ourn jungle
Of a bedspread romantic design.

iii.

Tis we loseth, track of all time
She sloweth her breathing, I singeth for her, she smiles and sayeth it's pleasing; ourn heart's steadily yet quickly beating, as if we were drunkened off of lover's delight divine.





©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose )
Sampaguitas are beautiful Arabic flower's but also the name is Filipino and grows in the Philippines and is a beautiful miniature rose looking flower so beautiful..
Mane is thick hair...
counterpane is like a blanket..
ATILA Nov 2018
DAY 1
I read about a very long list of phobias, these are the examples;

● astratophobia = fear of thunder and lightning
● paraskavedekatriaphobia = fear of Friday the 13th
● cacophobia = fear of ugliness ><
● ligyrophobia = fear of loud noises
● onomatophobia = fear of hearing a certain word or name
● peladophobia = fear of bald people
● hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia =fear of long words :D

Eventually I discover that all of us have phobia of this one; HADEPHOBIA. Fear of Hell.


DAY 2
"Make your foot rare at the house or your fellowman,
that he may not have his sufficency of you."
[Proverb 25:17]


DAY 3
A genuine smile is the most attractive thing you can wear,
it is absolutely universal and rarely could not bear.


DAY 4
We verily created man and We know what his soul whispereth to him,
and We are nearer to him than his jugular vein.
[Quran 50 : 16]


DAY 5
Man, whose past is a clot - a clinged drop something related to *****, whose abdomen at present is filled with what he excretes and whose future is to become the rotting dead body of grave.

How flawed are us.


DAY 6
"I call a man who understands the suffering of others as a religious man."
- Mahatma Gandhi


DAY 7
Aisha said, "I brought some soup which I had cooked, and told Sawdah (the 2nd wife of Prophet Muhammad PBUH), with the Prophet sitting between her and me. 'Have some!' but she declined. I said: 'You either eat or I smear your face.' She would not eat, so I took some soup from the bowl and smeared her face. Allah's Messenger laughed and lifted his feet off the floor. He said to Sawdah: 'Smear her face!' So she took some from the bowl and smeared my face, and Allah's Messenger kept laughing."


DAY 8
Human imperfection is not here to scare us,
it is here to bring out the best of us.
so that we can be like a severely bent tree that continues to produce good fruits despite of its incovenient position or angle from the ground.


DAY 9
Noah is referred to as the 2nd Adam since mankind started afresh from his time, after the deluge and complete destruction of mankind. Therefore, a 2nd part or phase in the mankind history started from him.


DAY 10
Powerful telescopes enable this civilization to see far into the space,
but sometimes due to the 'blindness' in its right eye, it fails to see the Creator's hand in it.


DAY 11
“A new command I give you: Love one another.
As I have loved you, so you must love one another.
By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
[John 13 : 34-35]


DAY 12
A knowledgeable person is he who is never satisfied with what he has learnt and also adds the learning of other people to his knowledge.
- A hadith qudsi


DAY 13
Be as gentle as the whispering breeze
Spread solace to the world we’re in
Let your heart and soul be a mirror clear

Yet when you master all of this
Forget not your neediness
Were it not from God’s grace
None of this can be achieved!


DAY 14
"Have they not reflected within themselves?
Allah did not create the Heavens and the earth and everything between them except the truth and for a fixed term.
Yet many people reject the meeting with their Lord."
[Ar-***, 30:8)


DAY 15
One of internet culture is keep searching for a prey to harass or bash. And there is this saying, "Give a man a mask and he will show his true face.” Just because you can hide your identity online, it doesn't mean you can harass and bash other people freely. Be mindful. Be kind.


DAY 16
"And when My servants ask you (O Muhammad), concerning Me – indeed I am near.
I respond to the invocation of the supplicant when he calls upon Me.
So let them respond to Me (by obedience) and believe in Me that they may be (rightly) guided.”
[Al-Baqarah, 2:186]


DAY 17
Prophet PBUH said: "No calamity befalls a Muslim but that Allah expiates some of his sins because of it, even though it were the ***** he receives from a thorn."
[Narrated by Bukhari]


DAY 18
The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed,
a stronghold in times of trouble.
[Psalm 9 : 9]


DAY 19
Even when life is frail
God's love prevails
It never fails.

Jonah's life was frail when he was in the whale, but God's prevailed, it did not fail.


DAY 20
God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
[Psalm 46 : 1]


DAY 21
"There are times when I want to die so badly, I think the need itself will **** me. Of course, it never does. I always dream of better places, how anime life and 2D things are so much better than real life, where I could actually become something and be something other than stupid me. I have made so many stupid decisions. I can't keep a secret about myself, because I am so stupid and naive and stupid and dishonest. I'm useless and an idiot and a ******* and I can't do anything right, I can't make right decisions, I can't even **** myself. It's impossible. But I still want to die."
- a diary of a depressed girl


DAY 22
● "He is the only one without a second." [Chandagya Upanishad 6, 2:1]

● "Of Him there are neither parents nor Lord." [Svetasvatara Upanishad 6, 9]

● "There is no like Him." [Svetasvatara Upanishad, 4:19]

● "There is no likeness of Him whose name is a great glory." [The Principle Upanishad by S. Radhakrishnan]


DAY 23
● "Hear O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord." [Deutronomy 6:4]

● "I, even I, am the Lord; and beside Me there is no savior." [Isaiah 45:5]

● "I am God, and there is no one else; I am God, there is none like me." [Isaiah 46:9]


DAY 24
“You shall have no other Gods before me.
You shall not make for yourself a carved image,
or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above,
or that is in the earth beneath,
or that is in the water under the earth.
You shall not bow down to them or serve them,
for I the Lord your God am a jealous God."
[Exodus 20: 3-5]


DAY 25
According to biological law, our body cells ought to renew themselves indefinitely thereby leaving us; human, not knowing old age or aging or death at all! So biologically speaking, we could be always young, agile, dynamic, vigorous and absolutely defect-free in our immune system. But hey, imperfection is here."


DAY 26
“To all those suffering from sadness or depression, know that it isn’t your fault. It isn’t because you’re weak. It isn’t because you’re just not grateful enough. It isn’t because you’re just not religious enough. It isn’t because you don’t have enough faith. It isn’t because God is angry with you. To all the well-meaning people who tell you this, just smile. And know deep in your heart that the tests of God come in different forms to different people. And know that, by the help of God, every test can become a tool to get closer to Him. And that, verily, with hardship come ease–and like all things of this world–this too shall pass.”
- Yasmin Mogahed


DAY 27
We may not see the literal or initial being of God, but we can eventually see His display of power or evidence of His being or presence in what becomes or results manifest to us, be it in creation or in our very own existance or make up.


DAY 28
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
[Psalm 147 : 3]


DAY 29
After all, our innermost thoughts and feelings affect what we talk about and even how we look.

_______________
Hi! This may not a poem :') During the last Ramadhan (about five months ago), I had set in mind to read lots of books to cheerish this holy month with at least, a good deed. So, this is a compilation of what was I reading from the 1ST day until the last day of Ramadhan. Enjoy!
O my love!
In my hate I shall miss thee,
in my mind I shall keep thee!
In disdain still I think of thee,
and in sorrow I shall praise thee!
Ah, and in drought I shall drink of thee,
but in t'is snow I'll draw of thee!
In summers I'll yearn for thee,
and in t'eir warmth I'll dreameth of thee!
To my readers I'll tell of thee,
in my poems I'll write of thee.
Thy innocence, thy innocence t'at shall
never fade!
O, in my songs I'll sing of thee,
and in my plays I'll imagine thee.
How in the mornings thou'lt sit beside me,
and whispereth that thy heart needst me.
For in my heart I want only thee;
and in my soul do I crave thee!
Because thou art the kingst of my longing,
and the hero of my dreaming!
Ah! Thus thy presence my everything,
yes-everything, my love!
Just like the giggling stars
to the moon above.
Awsaaf Ali Apr 2014
Thy rose rots, ami'st my feet an' the door,
Pleading, the fragrance its to be sucketh an' bitter wine pour,
Blisters dropp'th from thy swirlin' shore,
Boun'less pain stabbeth me more,
Thy gift'd feather, thy ink pouch, leather,
Those symphonies maketh me smile, no more,
Beneath the cores de pumping meat, I solemnly adore,
Curious stem o' rotten rose whispereth,
Thy reminiscences under my chest crawleth,
Mysterious reas'n attracteth thy death.

— The End —