Related quotes: 'Portugal Manoel Da Assumpcam Amar...

Portugal Manoel Da Assumpcam Missionary.

'Portugal Manoel Da Assumpcam
Amar Sonar Moyna Pakki Amigo,
I never seen you in my live ever before
Which Country are you from?
My dear amigo Manoel Da Assumpcam.

Your colour of heritage in unknown Land l fear to bear your name in word.
I can't bear to missed you my amigo, Oh yes it can't be forgot either
You have contributed your nameless name in the nation without name
To influence other and to form the crowd in unknown Land,
Where are you from Sir?

And to shape not my nationalities in Language in Culture but yours!
The present Language in Bangla o' my dear amigo never was counted by.
You may be nothing To Government of Portugal than but today.
Priceless name in the heart of people's in the unknown Land.

I have nothing to say in Language Portuguese other than to say thank you.
For teaching and advocating me in Language in Bangla
That nation today celebrates every year.
With their tears on their eyes and face.

Bear to say words other than few minute in silent,
As orphanage children's looking at each other face.
Remembering those who gave their words in Bangla and live for.
And today I believe in visual hallucination it's not too late
to say how much I love you in Language in Bangla ‘Nil Dariar Prem'

The Birth of new Generation in Culture in Bangla.
Almost was given birth after more than three century in Bangla
'Inna-Lilla-He-O-Inna-He-La-He-Ra-Je-Ow n'
When will I met you?

Day of Kiamot is to far from Bay of Bengal to Portugal.
The mother of all living things on Earth,
Singing in the name of Almighty Lord ‘Allah' too
In the soil of unknown Land in British India my not his or her love.

How lucky you was never assassinated by knowing you was pigeons,
As Bongo Bandhu,
First Prime Ministers of Bangladesh.
I miss you ‘Manoel Da Assumpcam'
Your name prescribed in Language Bangla by name
'Shaheed Minar'
Capital City o Bangladesh.
By name once was known Dac-ca' now became ‘DHA-KA'

Your name in my Language Mother tongues days and nights,
‘Joy Bangla'
To Miss you my dear amigo you left us under your own broken umbrella.
Sheltered under the cloud of sky,
Falling rain without control
And under the wings in tender years since 1734,
To wonder rest of entire life.

Though the blind cloud of smoke it was I thought ‘Bangla' was not mine.
Sometimes I think who ‘Manoel Da Assumpcam' ever was!
When my lonely mind is clear from suspicious.
As guilty mind always does.

I bear to take no medication tablet of Seroxat or Zyprexa
Instead of Ritual Five Times a Days.
But try to concentrate British national favourite's news paper Sun page 3?
To Comfort your medical Doctors buried alive human being,
Under the false Knowledge of medication on earth from Editor!

I was searching British pornographic Internet sites
With Former British Rt. Hon. Jacqui Smith,
Which news paper you were reading at the time In British India?

Almost fourteen million people have gone crazy for Language Bangla?
Instead of Declaring their own Country.
'The Islamic Bangla States of Portugal'

Million of citizen's by name in Bangla never heard of
‘Manoel Da Assumpcam'

The mother of all creatures in the Land of Bangla,
After name of Almighty Lord Allah.

I wonder who was your mother she may be was not Bengali,
As My great Grand Mother?
But never had any Bangla Kitab other than Urdu.

That when in times under the shadow of his or her love today in vain I follow.
The gift of Language Bangla existence in the domiciles in the Land of Bangladesh.

After nine month of struggle in Culture in Bangla.
To me to demonstrate in History, Culture, Heritage, Religion, and in Revelation
Your Language in Bangla treasure under my chest as always ashes,
As cloud in my lonely heart From time to time days and nights.
Without medical tablets Zantac, (Ranitidine) .

Today Translated Holy Bible Quran in Language Bangla Instead of in Portuguese.
You are the hero in the eyes of the historian in the nation after three century.
In a moment every one caught in reflections of waves of sea
The melody wave's of sound in Bangla ‘Nistur Bandhu' Song's.

I see and hear thought the water reflection your loving name
In Bilingual's Language,
Instead of in your own Generation in Portugal?

It a shame on Government of Portugal to Ignore the own citizen's right,
When the Foreign Government of Bangladesh paid in full
Under the E.E.C. European Country Law and Order they agree
By adapting your Language without packet of N.H.S. Condoms,
‘Joy Bangla'

Salam, Barkat, Rafique, and Jabbar
To name few died 21st February 1952 for the name of Languages
'BANGLA'

What a magic Literature in Bangla prescribed by?
Today my self proud of writing's in Bangla Book of Poetry 'Nil Dariar Prem'

Today nation by cast surprise by the out come of Language Bangla in victory.
Almost every corner of the world by name known
‘Bangla'
Instead of Fish and Chip shop in England.

Prime Minister of West Pakistan tries to hide from the world
'Urdu'
Was his native Language to dominate the world but failure?

In the eyes of the European Country Citizen love
Written in Bangla not year but many Centuries ago.

West Pakistan Prime Minister was not aware of history
May Language Bangla it returns to your generations and multiplied by?

Without giving life as martyrs
May Lord raises your Generation up and called you in Bangla,
'Amar Sonar Portugal'
Brother ‘Manoel Da Assumpcam'
Given us to lead the Country Portugal.

And bless their Lord in Language Arabic,
'Allahu Akbar'.

Five Times a day in the Land of Portugal.
Those who may never heard of by name as follows,
'Bis-Mil-La-Hir-Rak-Ma-Nir-Ra-Him'

'In the name of Almighty Lord (Allah/God/Dues) , the most merciful and most beneficial of mankind'.

Hope your Portugal Government will never make second mistake
After the century many years yet to come!

When Government of Bangladesh never made any mistake
To honour the Portugal Citizen's, In Bangla the States Language.
‘Manoel Da Assumpcam'
And by name 'In-Nal-La-Alla- Kolli-Shahin- Kadir'
The States Country known as,
'Bangladesh'
When there was no trace of Bangla
Today it called an Independent Country.

Peoples sing a song in the street of Bangla without any fears of.
Bangladesh Is Portugal brother by birth mark?
The first man to advocates Language Bangla from Portugal.

Portugal is the part of Bangladesh
Under the European Law.
May God bless United Nation?

And five Times a Day loud and clear
'Allahu Akbar'

How proud in Heritage and in Revelation
By Portugal Government today?

Day before Yesterday was his or her dreams
Today from Prime Minister to street refugee in tune in Bangla
'Ami Tuma Ka Valo Bashi'

Without invested penny today in the name of his or her love.
How sweet Language in Bangla Peoples cannot tell but
Can sing a song in the name of love
'Amar Sonar Bangla'
'Ami Tumay Valo Bashi'

You are my living star in my lonely entire life
Left nothing to treasure in your name today,
But your love in shadow of word from by own mouth in Bangla.

Today I feel ashamed to see Peoples of Portugal without
Any Identities in Culture in Revelation in heritage!

Claiming Religion in the name of own Lord
Jesus Christ
In Arabic known as
'He-Sa-Ru-Hu-Lul-La-He'

Do we need to give Portugal Government lesson when our Teacher
‘Manoel Da Assumpcam'
Given us to lead the States in the name of Love?
'Bis-Mil-La-Hir-Rak-Ma-Nir-Ra-Him'

The only name will ever remain in the Land and in the forest.
Another by name out of ninety-nine Lord Jesus Christ father.

'O Governo de Portugal diz que eu não sei,
agindo como cegos e surdos'

Which planet are they from?
In memory of all the Prophet and saints.

Salam, Salam, Dorud of Salam,
Sokol Nobe, Poygambor,
Peer, Fokir, Khaus, and Kotub.

Today I pray to my Lord bless the people's of Portugal and by name
‘Manoel Da Assumpcam'
Declare 'The Islamic Bangla States of Portugal'

Before second City of Tsunami ever strike in the Land of Portugal.
Or E.Coli symptoms occupied out land of farmers?

Today ‘Manoel Da Assumpcam' my brother amigo in Bangla
May not be here but I
On behalf of Bangladesh to say in blind love,
'Eu te amo Portugal e Obrigado a todos? '

And salam, regards and my love to you all,
As oceans of waves in tune in Bangla music?

May God Almighty bless you all?
Regardless of by cast or origin are,
Here in the temporary world of
Once you see dry Land than become lake or as Sea? '

By Abdul Haye Amin. The author's of The Islands Historia De Amor.

poem by Abdul Haye Amin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Bangla Desh

My friend came to me, with sadness in his eyes
He told me that he wanted help
Before his country dies
Although I couldnt feel the pain, I knew I had to try
Now Im asking all of you
To help us save some lives
Bangla desh, bangla desh
Where so many people are dying fast
And it sure looks like a mess
Ive never seen such distress
Now wont you lend your hand and understand
Relieve the people of bangla desh
Bangla desh, bangla desh
Such a great disaster - I dont understand
But it sure looks like a mess
Ive never known such distress
Now please dont turn away, I want to hear you say
Relieve the people of bangla desh
Relieve bangla desh
Bangla desh, bangla desh
Now it may seem so far from where we all are
Its something we cant neglect
Its something I cant neglect
Now wont you give some bread to get the starving fed
Weve got to relieve bangla desh
Relieve the people of bangla desh
Weve got to relieve bangla desh
Relieve the people of bangla desh

song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Praise for the Country

At the very beginning praise the liberated Bangladesh
Sufferings of the liberated land were not deported yet.
Then I salute motherly homeland
Blood stained mother, mine destitute mother land.

Praising Bangabandhu Mujib who
Sacrificed life to free motherland,
Begging pardon from him and
Start crossing the mighty ocean by remembering him.

Keeping his name in mind raising voice, "Badar, Badar"
I steer the boat, sail boat by his name
His name is known all over the world
Whenever recollect him I cry silently

I will write an epic on them who
Had sacrificed life in freedom fight
Those who sacrificed lives for Bangla Vasa
Singing the songs of life by remembering them

Rafique Salam, Barkat, Jabbar, the lovers of mother tongue
Protect the value at the cost of their lives.
Pitched road were washed away by Matiur's blood.
We have not forgotten ‘69 yet.

The nation has not forgotten November '70,
Lacs of people had died on the beach by cyclone.
Bangalees had won the election in '70,
Then Pakistani rulers got frightened.

History of 1971 is known to all,
How can we forget the pains?
Bangla got victory after a blood shed war
Let us say Joy Banglar Joy.

Freedom's flower bloomed in the courtyard,
After lives of lacs of people had sacrificed.
Bangla was liberated by the spiritual spell of Bangabandhu,
Named Bangladesh which is immeasurable significant.

Autocrats established terrorism in that Sonar Bangla
After floods of blood country was not develop by eras.
Good people are still lament for mental agony
And fundamental elements cried in the trap.

Bangabandhu was killed by local attackers,
Yet today Sonar Bangla is in howling.
I hate that gang of killers,
Countrymen have not forgotten that occurrence.

Where do we get such a patriot of the country?
Everything is in the country except the father.
Who told he is not, he is in our mind,
Crazy Rabin will remember him forever.

Who told he is not, he is in every house,
He is in the mind of everybody.
Let say Mujib, Mujib, let say Joy Bangla,
Let say Joy Bangla, let say Mujib Mujib…

poem by Rabindra Gope
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bangla

Bangla
Aami
Bhalobaashi!

Porte
Paari,
Likhte
Paari Na: (

Kaukhono
Kanna Paaye,
Kaukhono
Haanshi :)
____________

I love
Bengali!

Know
How to
Read,
Not to
Write: (

Sometimes,
It makes me
Cry…
Sometimes,
I laugh at my
Plight :)

(Poem themed on Language)

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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The Everyday Banglishman

My name is Mohammod
Amar ma, bath Bangladeshi
Ami Englando born oysi
Amar jonmo bosr is 1991
Ami tea khai na
Only when I am bimar
Soothes the wounded throat
One culture amar left aat dorse
Aroh culture amar dine aat dorse
Torn between du ta culture
Amar bath immigrate horsla in the sixties
In search of the land of dood and modu,
And food and money
Some of my relatives live in Bangladeshes in London,
Much of Tower Hamlet is Bengali territory
Brick Lane, Whitechapel and Shadwell to name a few
With markets selling mangoes, jackfruits, saaris
The smell of meat and fish is not far off
Manuush ar manuush bangla matoin
You see we are suffering, parents don't understand
Only the youth. Being brought up to love Bengali life
In another country.
Also some white folks tell me to go home
England is my home!
Ami jani na where I belong
In the land of my parents
Whose favourite food is curry
Or the land of my birthplace
Whose favourite food is curry

poem by Mohammod Choudhury
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Worthless

Swimming across a river-edge,
a tiger came to a village;
a burning fire-bright tiger;
whichever house he visit
they offer him stool to sit.

Once a poor farmer made him plough his field,
a helpless old man made him carry his load.
He is in good terms with the sad harlot
who lives in the margin of the village.

He tried to preach no religion,
he died also like the typically worthless folks!

(Translated from Bangla by Raihan Sharif)

poem by Rayhan Rhyne
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Kochi

There is divinity in her eyes
There is serenity in her face
There is purity in her soul,
She overflows with plentiful
Charm and grace.

There is simplicity in her being
She is nature's gift to me :)
With her bountiful natural beauty.

She has a naivety about her
And she's also very cheeky!
I keep falling head over heels
In love with her...
The more she amuses me
With her childish chivalry!

Yes, she's my little girl of three
She's none other than my
Dearest, darling Kochi :)

(Touch Wood. Nazar Na Lage)

I wrote this dedication in 2007 when my beloved daughter was just 3. Her name is Rupashri Chatterjee. I lovingly call her Kochi (which in Bangla means: the tender one) .

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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There was a Young Lady of Portugal,
Whose ideas were excessively nautical:
She climbed up a tree,
To examine the sea,
But declared she would never leave Portugal.

by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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~ Ich bin ein Künstler [Fusion Poetry] ~

~ Ich bin ein Künstler [Fusion Poetry] ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
April 18,2010

[Humble apology: Like music dance painting etc. I’m offering linguistic fusion in poetry ~ ‘Fusion Poetry’. Readers’ are requested to refer to glossary ~ niv]

I’m stark stone
Sculpt myself
Schnitzen my ownself
Ciseau my soul’s self.

Kaleidoscopic emersion of
Biblio Tagore
Visual van Gogh
Vox Lata Mangeshkar
Allow me be for you?

Treasure my self
Fête with my own self
Nestle my soul’s self.

Savourez-moi pourquoi ne pas?

Ich bin ein Künstler! ~ A Silhouette but! !

-
Glossary:

Ich bin ein Künstler [Ger] ~ I am an Artist
Schnitzen [Ger] ~ Carve
Ciseau [Fr] ~ Chisel
Savourez-moi pourquoi ne pas? [Fr] ~ Savor [enjoy] me why not?

===
Info:

[1] Tagore R. N.1861-1941 [A poet, novelist, musician, and playwright. Nobel Laureate in literature 1913 for ‘Gitanjali’ or `Song offerings. Perhaps the only litterateur who penned anthems of two countries: Bangladesh-Amar Shonar Bangla and India- Jana Gana Mana. In 1919, following the Amritsar massacre of 400 Indian demonstrators by British troops, Sir Tagore renounced his Knighthood]

[2] Vincent van Gogh 1853-1890 [Dutch Post-impressionist painter noted for his use of color]

[3] Lata Mangeshkar 1929 -. [Is the second vocalist ever to have received the Bharat Ratna, India's highest civilian honor. Nightingale of India]

~~~~~
Copyrights reserved by author.

poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cascais Portugal

Cascais, Portugal.

First day of summer both winter and spring, full of rain; we are visiting her mother’s
resting place, a hole in a wall with a glass door that has a flimsy lock; easy to break in to
but who would want too? Her mother, born in Kinshasa, Congo, but upheaval forced
her to leave; now she rests in Cascais, Portugal far from her native land. The bible on
top of the coffin is full of tiny holes soon the book will be a pile of dust

While my wife pray I go for a walk, beautiful day and Cascais has a lovely bay. There are
sailboats and a few yachts in the bay one of them belongs to Prince Albert of Monaco,
he likes Portugal, the local paper enthuses. Indeed, aren’t we lucky? She joins me, says
“I don’t like boats and I don’t like the sea, my first husband took me on a sailing trip in
lake Lugarno, I was so sick they had to set me ashore.” We turn our back to the bay,
her mother and walk back to the car.

I remember a winter night in the North Atlantic Ocean, giant waves came crashing on
deck taking the railing and lifeboats away. Three ships sank that night with irrelevant
cargo onboard. No survivors. “Yes dear, the sea is a monster if it doesn’t takes your
body it takes your soul.”

poem by Oskar Hansen
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A Canticle

Like darkness descends an old raven
A fog obscures both banks
of the girl's eyes
Ah what a prolonged sleep

A red-eyed pigeon on the cornice sits
September nineteenth a flimsy telegram
Ah what a prolonged sleep

The storm dies down
on the tired mast
The storm uncoils
its eight tentacles

And a huge dance-hall looms into sight
And a red-eyed pigeon on the cornice sits
what’s the news now
Ah what a prolonged sleep

The storm dies down
on the dream book of Jung
The storm drops dead
from anaemia

But who will make that girl understand but this
There’s little profit in searching for the one
That is by now wood-dead from fasting an Adam’s lifetime
Ah what a prolonged sleep
Ah what a prolonged sleep

(Translated from Bangla by the poet)

poem by Subrata Augustine Gomes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Language from Womb to Tomb

It is heard from mother's womb,
taught and learned through the days
and years; repeated, remembered,
quoted, mimicked, twisted,
spoken to bless and to curse.

It is to make one
come across the border lines
It is to feel a part of the whole
It is to understand and be understood.
It is seed that grows through the years
It is a pen that records the scars and stars
It is present in the years of our life
the years lost and gone
and the years to come.

It is language
from mother's womb
to our own tomb
It is language of jubilation,
of judgment and adoration
It is law and order
It is history-
document and monument.
It is victory and defeat.

It is the language of love
It is the language of hate.
It is the language of life
and the language of death.
_____________

May 7,2010

poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Fall in love with Dementia?

"I Fall in love with Dementia? "

…"It is very sad world
Those who fall in love with
'Dementia'

Without knowing the past medical record
I was unfortunate to fall in love with?

How will I ever divorce my sincere love?
Dementia she has no interest in me no more!
Totally lost taste in life?
Acting as a stranger in my life.

How do I forget my love?
And divorce my life from Dementia?
She was only my life when I ever met
Today I cry alone Dementia recognized me no more!

'I love you'
Seem no value by name Dementia to her
Was I not unfortunate to fall into loving nest?

Please tell his or her
I still love Dementia?
Till God part us apart between us.

It is not our mistake to fall in love with Dementia but
To search for clue myself how much actually I do
Love Dementia in life once beauties drive my lonely hearts.

Those who are in love with
Dementia please take care of
It inspire all nation beauty of Dementia
And will inspire with passion of love.

Neuropsychiatric Symptoms of Dementia
Activity of ritual five times a day contributes
Lose of memories bring into soul, mind and heart.

Practice of Ritual the Therapy of Biblical
Recitation of Holy Bible Quran help
Those who are righteous believer
In the name of Lord.

Behavioral and or Psychological symptom
Deteriorate Disease of any kind except death!
Wash away spiritually disease heal where it pain
Toward better health in human being life on earth.

Prostrates secretly appreciate your Lord
To forgive you as sinner of all
Your memory, mind and health
Hand of almighty Lord by any method
Not hand of medical teams or doctors.

Remember your life belong to you
Don't give to your doctors to play with
Worship your Lord donate your life to God,
Then you and I free from any known disease.

Search Holy Bible or Quran for the truth,
No matter who ever you are
At the most critical time in life.

"La-He-La-Ha-Hil-Lal-La-Hu" ;
Is medication or treatment for any symptom?
To cure from your known illness
It duty tax free given to you all,
Only those who trust.

My heart arches for my beauty of Dementia
How much I love in word I lost as oceans of Sea waves!

How to recover my Dementia to love me again in life
My dear Lord you are only hope in my life remain for
My lover Dementia to bring memory back to reality.

Far as skies I discovered your name 'Allah'
And inside human being body
Today who should I bet in life?
Other than your name?

I shall never divorce my love Dementia by virtue nor
Will I forget your name 'Allahu' but recites in vain?
Until my Dementia say
'I Love You'
In life again.

As mentioned Holy Bible Quran Sura Kaf
After 109 years
Human memory returned in life how?
Without treatment or medication.

Dementia I love you by any cost?
It a lesson my Lord given us to learn from
Our generation to follow his instruction
In culture, in heritage and in our society.

To void such symptom
In generation in human being life or,
Search for treatment in the universes,
If you are honest and truthful indeed."

poem by Abdul Haye Amin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ramdas, Start Talking With New Language!

Ramdas, start Talking with New Language,
Talk with people and every life,
That language which can take world to new dimension,
Or world shine with beauty and freshness,
Be the one among builders of new world!

Language of love and acceptance,
language that comes from the
depth of the heart,
affectionate and humble,
language that is full of gratitude,
Free of doubts and fear, Language of smile and presence
of mind,
Mindfulness which uses silence
and words well balanced,
the world to new dimensions,
Make world Look like a new world in the light of wisdom!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother India

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

poem by Aziz Ahmad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who's To Blame

Oh Mother Ghana; Mother Ghana
What has happened to you?
What has happened to your culture?
They say we've fold arms against 'Vernacular' language
Instead opened arms wide to 'English' language

Oh Mother Ghana Mother Ghana
Why?
At school, we are taught the things we do not know
By the 'English' language
Why not 'Vernacular' language?

Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Where is your true identity as pure African?
Where is your pride as true Ghanaian?

Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana,
Day after day
When we put on the uniform as students
We are forbidden to speak 'Vernacular' language
Instead the 'English' language
Why Mother Ghana, why Mother Ghana?
When we speak 'Vernacular' language; your culture,
They say: 'Speak English' someone's culture!
When we speak 'English' that someone's culture
They say: 'Abrofosem; speak vernacular language' your culture!

Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Who's to blame?
'English or Vernacular language'
Oh Mother Ghana; Oh Mother Ghana.

poem by Francis Julian Zewu
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The language of flowers

The language of flowers was born in the East
and today this tradition still persist.
Having a lack of communication,
being unable to show it on their faces
the women of East created the language of flowers,
it could show their love power,
it could show their mood,
it helped them to be understood.
Once it had appeared as the language of communication
it turned into the method of admiration,
it turned into an art,
this language has become so smart.
In the Victorian epoch
the language of flowers was used
to express the secret feeling,
each flower, each color had a certain meaning.
The language of flowers still exists today.
The one who presents a red rose wants to say:
I love you so much,
I need more than a touch.
My heart is on fire,
I have a fervent desire.
The one who presents a white rose wants to say:
You are my love,
you are my dove,
you are as pure as the first white snow,
I wish our love to grow.
My love is sincere,
I want you to be always near.
My love is stronger than a passion,
a tender kiss will make a good ration.
Can’t help being enchanted by your modesty,
can’t help admiring your purity.
Red and white roses together
say much more than any weather forecast.
That one wants to say:
You are my other half,
you are in my heart,
you are my gift from God.
And if that one hears the answer:
You are my Lord,
Then he is the happiest man in the world.
If someone presents you bluebells,
it tells he wants to know for sure
if your love is pure,
if your love will remain,
until you meet again.
If you are not sure of your love
and suddenly get cornflowers,
it means your love has a real power.
There are so many flowers on the Land
and they all make us understand life
that there is no need for a strife.
Even with fast pace,
and unnecessary races
our modern life on the Earth is worth living
with the Greatest feeling of Love.

Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Languages

There are no handles upon a language
Whereby men take hold of it
And mark it with signs for its remembrance.
It is a river, this language,
Once in a thousand years
Breaking a new course
Changing its way to the ocean.
It is mountain effluvia
Moving to valleys
And from nation to nation
Crossing borders and mixing.
Languages die like rivers.
Words wrapped round your tongue today
And broken to shape of thought
Between your teeth and lips speaking
Now and today
Shall be faded hieroglyphics
Ten thousand years from now.
Sing--and singing--remember
Your song dies and changes
And is not here to-morrow
Any more than the wind
Blowing ten thousand years ago.

poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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