Silk Route
Me, a passionate Indian merchant
With twinkle in my eyes,
Treading on the half-erased foot-prints
On the sands of Time
On my romantic adventure,
To meet you my love.
You, the elusive Persian princess,
A marvellously pied butterfly
With unique patterns of deep colours
Imprinted on your fluttering wings,
Hopping on and hopping off
On the fragile flowers of the oasis.
I have for you
Gifts of gold, pearl, diamond, rubies
And other precious Indian gem stones
Stacked on a camel-back.
I have silk and honey
And exclusive red roses kept hidden
In my poetic heart all for you.
I travel and travel relentlessly
On strange paths to meet you,
My princess of the oasis,
Where date-laden palm trees,
Chirping of the birds,
The colour and scent of desert vegetation
And the rhythm of the camel-bells
Ring a welcome tune
In a memorable bonanza.
Related quotes
The Tears in Desert
Once upon a time in a desert,
There was a camel and an oasis,
Large terrain, scorpions, rattlesnakes, cruel sun and cactus,
Camel galloped its way through the painful elements,
May be this was less,
Qabilas and Pathans used it,
Bruised it,
Work done; Bye bye,
Beautiful motives to use it,
Tears filled its eyes but sun evaporated them all,
No one cared so on its knees,
Still working its way towards oasis,
But not getting it right,
Do you know who camel was? , or is?
Think twice, take your time,
Hope this time would enough for its journey to oasis...
poem by Vikrant Jog
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the Spirit of Rumi-39-The Desert
As the cool dawn brings the light
to the desert where the blue-white sky
meets the sand that time and man have brought,
and you wake the camel boy
to lead the camels from the waterside –
before you mount the lurching beast
and sway off into the desert on your path,
the camel-bells tinkling on the harness,
look into the camel’s eyes.
There you will see mingled,
pride in its being; patience in its duty.
The wise men say that God is found
where opposites meet and are resolved.
Proud in its being, patient in its duty –
no great wonder, then, that the camel
has been chosen of God to take you
across the desert of your destiny in faith and trust;
for in the world of metaphor, where man meets God
in the mind’s own language,
the camel is your body; dutiful proud servant
for the journey you must take; your company
for the length of time that journey takes.
So, traveller, when you reach the green and cool oasis
at the ending of the day’s sufficient journey -
first tie your camel by the waters of refreshment
before you kneel; for food; for prayer; then
resting in the bright-eyed company;
the eyes of those who scan the round horizon as they ride
and wonder always, what oasis lies beyond.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Long Necked Ruminant
Long Necked Ruminant
So you think a camel is just an ugly animal,
a camel has kissable lips and eyes like
Marilyn Monroe; and it gives milk, low fat and
nourishing. But I bet you didn’t know that.
When a four wheel, stops by lack of petrol in
the sand of Sahara, the camel with its padded
cloves trudges along, smells like hell, but
who cares when it can bring you to an oasis.
Sweet dates, cold water and languor under
palm trees, a dream comes true, but do not
forget it was a camel that brought you there.
And have you ever tasted camel cheese?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Indian Dream
The Indian Dream
I saw an Indian princess coming out of a limousine, not
an actress, pretending to be royal. She was dressed in
a sari made of the finest silk that ad been spun eight times
was airy and light as a zephyr. She wore diamond earrings
and necklace of black pearls on her swan like neck,
she looked so aromatic and esoteric had I seen her coming
out of the loo I would have been quite flummoxed.
Eyes downcast, a demure mien she didn’t see me waving
at her, when crossing the street a guard shaded her with
a green parasol. I’m going to India before the monsoon,
I’ll find the princess drive her home to Portugal in
a low-cost Indian car, I will have to install an air condition,
one cannot have a princess transpire, mind, if she did it
would be pearls of sweet honey on her brow.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Butterfly Flutterby
The butterfly was young
Her vibrant wings of delicate lace
Such grace such poise
A hcarming butterfly
The cricket was slick thicket
Moving quick but swift
Yet smart somewhat wise
Proud of his chirp
Hopping through the grass
Butterfly fluttered by till upon a rose
Spreading her wings a dainty show
Slowly sipping sweet
Hopping skipping
Cricket saw
Butterfly glanced
The cricket saw butterfly
The butterfly looked yonder
Cricket hopped and chirped
A jumpety crickety song
Butterfly sighed
And rolled her eyes
Cricket hopped closer
Butterfly laughed
Silly cricket trying hard
Butterfly cared less
Poor cricket hopped and hopped
Butterfly sipping nectar sweet
Cricket sang sonfter sweeter
Butterfly stopped
A song so sweet
Too lovely than nectar
Cricket hopped upon a rose
Butterfly jumped
Almost to fly away
Cricket song too lovely to fly away
Butterfly in a trance
Fluttering her wings lovely
Too charming
Too tempting
Crickect sang
Butterfly in a spell
Too late to break
Lovers forever
Strange couple though
Yet lovely
Yet happy
Suave cricket, Princess Butterfly
Flutterby, flutterby.......
poem by Bella Ravenstar
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Princess of the night
Princess of the night.
How you travel across the nights sky and passing me by. How I dream to grow a pair of Valiant wings to reach you night princess. Oh how I dream to fly. To take on the world by storm, beside you, where you can see me. How I wish this wasnt just a dream. To talk for an eternity and travel the galaxy far. To have a scene under the radiant stars. Just one moment to be where you are. Oh night princess how you seem so far. You shall forever be in my heart.
poem by Andrue Finley
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Meet Me In The Indian Summer
(Van Morrison)
Well don't you know
How much I love you
Don't you know
How much I care
It's beyond my comprehension
'Cos I love you on the square
It's not bound by any definition
It isn't written in the stars
It's not limited like Saturn
Isn't ruled by Mercury or Mars
Oh won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
Where we'll go walking
Down by the weeping willow tree
Won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
We'll go walking to eternity
It's not modelled by convention
It isn't worshipped like the sun
It's not likened unto any other
And it will never come undone
Well don't you know
That my world is so lonely
Just like a freight train in the dawn
That's why I need to
Have and hold you
Just to keep me from going wrong
Oh won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
We'll go walking
By the weeping willow tree
Won't you meet me Lord
In the Indian summer
We'll go walking to eternity
Won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
Well before
Those chilly winds do blow
Won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
Take me way back
To what I know
Oh won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
We'll go walking
By the weeping willow tree
Oh won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
We'll go walking to eternity
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waters of an Oasis
It's clearer than purified water
much expensive than processed water
sweeter than honey jelly
healthier than rain water.
It's scarce than ocean water
plenty than lake water
quenching than well's water
energizing than falls' waters.
Oasis fruits are sweeter
its grass are healthier
its breezes are more lulling
and a unique captivating topography.
Oasis love is more loving.
Oasis air is more fresh
oasis life is worth living
oasis care is more caring
oasis death is more victorious.
poem by Fate Mcfate
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A Camel
A camel
That walks alone
Across the desert unending
Has no pretentions.
Every camel is so.
A camel
That has a hump large and
A physique strong
Is a marvel to none.
No marvel at all.
A camel
Treads before me at times
Leaving a track to follow and
I carry my small luggage
No caravan is seen.
A camel,
A desert,
A track and
Me.
There is a breeze blowing from somewhere!
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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My beautiful diamond princess
Ho my beautiful diamond princess! Ho my beautiful diamond princess! ! Ho my beautiful diamond princess! ! ! calling you three times make my head swell A princess should come from a royal family A princess should have a royal blood flowing through her vain A princess is recognized in the mist of great multitude as a royal person A princess should have wealth and influence rubbed on her by her father A princess is noticed afar as a royal personality worthy of honor in which i have given to you personally as somebody of great value in my life A title i have given to you from the dept of my heart When i look into your eyes what i see is a diamond of special value calling for attention Who else will i give my attention if not you, you are the only sugar in my tea The only honey in my life You are the reason why i am alive You are the reason for my survival You gave hope to the hopeless while others have lost hope in me, you kept my hope burning while other peoples dream were truncated along the way, you kept my dreams flying higher and higher You gave my dreams an accelerated step to victory, victory is sure, victory at last While darkness comes like a scary monster frighten me at night, you made a light in that scary path for my dreams to come true If i have a wings i will fly, If i have a wings i will fly, long long way far away over the blue sea, over the hilltop, over the mountain where i will be waiting for you Ho my beautiful diamond princess here i bow for you to show my heart felt appreciation Thank you for standing by me through tick and thin Thank you very much
poem by Olayemi Ayo
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Walk of a stream (from the mad man's song)
A few drops of ink were trying to flow out into a blend of black and white...
A few waves of music were trying to reach to their strings, , ,
to write and sing of emptiness, a little mine and a little yours...
In what is no longer, seeking a place I walk and then I meet mine...
In your flight you try to make a litlle of the sky yours..
then you meet thine....
A few drops of ink dried..
A few wings of failed flight...
Thus of our emptiness we wrote and sang...
Life has often told to me its strange tales..
Sometimes it has called me by my name..
sometimes it has made me meet my soul...
One day though it walked in and halted my travel of the day..
So there I had to stay...
I realised only on nightfall just above was moon to appear
So was I made to stay...
life has often told to me its strange tales...
When someday you would realise after time has but gone away long,
that you should not have departed, and then decide to return
to the place you left....
You may not find me waiting for you, , ,
Deep beneath the bosom of the sands of desert
walks a stream...
seeking the thirst of the wanderer
and in a oasis they meet...
Longer the thirst has traveled with the wanderer,
stronger shall be the bliss of the meeting...
We shall someday meet, some day other..........
A rainbow is neither lost nor formed...
Its that some day seven colors meet and they are indigo, ,
other day just seven strangers....
When into sunset, evening plays its flute, , ,
and shadows of memories past and dreams of times to come
start to hide and seek among the woods of your heart....
fall in love with the way the sun welcomes the night
For the route to red petals walk through the charm of thorns...
and if unpricked you were to walk
You would reach but faded rose, dead with time...
Melody may be the music of the ocean, sea or river bear...
distance may be the dreams of the water of their...
Drops but must love the walk of a stream...
Loreena mckennitt, THE OLD WAYS
IN the desert
A camel
A lady
Riding
Against an orange sky
The lady in silk
She is running away
From the hot sun
In the desert
The sun is confident
Following her
In the full view
After all, the desert where the camel
And the woman walk
Is the sun’s best friend.
The usual old ways do not know betrayal.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Thrill Of Hope
you love and fail
and you want to die
the heart that loves and fails
shirks and shrinks like a drying grape to the desert sun
raisin, look at you, you have become a raisin
wrinkled fruit,
shrinked to the size minimal to the existence
desired, you dry some more, taking away all the life
possible in your skin and bone
the desert sun is cruellest
in you
so unforgiving so determined to shrink you
more than a raisin
this cruelty can turn you into a stone
the night has come
this thrill of hope comes like a comforting friend
to tell you raisin,
keep the sweetness still
for tomorrow's bitterest spill
the cruelest sun
the deadliest ever
on this desert sun the hottest sands
and you will not surrender
the hope is still there
the dream is this oasis somewhere
the bedouin and his coming camel
who knows? and when?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Celibate
as expected the celibate
has written a poem about a desert
the listener junks it
for it makes her feel thirst and gives
a hint on death
the poem is revised
speaking now about the princess bathing
in the oasis
singing
attracting the black bird perched on
the date palm
she rises from the water
her breasts supple to the wind
she is waiting for the horse riding Bedouin
to carry her
to his kingdom
the reader is overjoyed in this
and sheds
the tears of joy
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From an Iceberg to a Desert
In your Igloo
My frozen thoughts
Never melts
And we go to a desert
I give you my old Camel
To find your precious dreamy Oasis,
Would your Mom & Dad give permission
For this vagabond Nomad?
* When I was a kid I grumbled with my poor Mom that I want ice cubes,
Then she said; 'We are poor darling and your Papa left for Aladdin's wonderful lamp.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Elusive Butterfly
Breeze blowing across my face
even the wind leaves a trace
gazing at wavering trees
petals floating in the breeze
For a brief moment in time
I thought maybe you'd be mine
but they were only dreams
and dreams are never what they seem
Love the elusive butterfly
always seems to pass me by
love the elusive butterfly
fly, fly fly, my elusive butterfly
Raindrops falling at my feet
why does love taste bittersweet?
butterfly's dancing in the trees
and then float off in the breeze
Love the elusive butterfly
always seems to pass me by
love the elusive butterfly
fly, fly fly, my elusive butterfly
poem by Jonny Soze
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When a camel is at the foot of a mountain only then judge his height.
My Fairy Princess Lauren
My Fairy Princess Lauren,
Beautiful and Fair,
Skipping, Hopping, Flying,
Elegant & Graceful through the air –
Dancing, Laughing, Singing,
Wonderful and Witty,
My Sweet Fairy Princess Lauren.
I will love you for infinity.
poem by Tracy Johnston
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The Lost Embassy
THE lilies lean to the white, white rose,
The sweet limes send to the blossomed trees,
Soft kisses borne by the golden bees--
And all the world is alive, awake,
And glad to the heart for the summer's sake.
From her tower window the Princess leant,
Where the white light butterflies came and went;
She dropped soft kisses by twos and threes:
'White butterflies mine, will you carry these
To my Prince in prison? for they, who knows,
May break the spell that has held him close
And wake him and win him to stand up free
And laugh--in the sun--with me!'
White lilies, gold in the golden sun,
White Princess, gold in your golden gown--
Far off lies the sad, enchanted town!
Bright wings, light wings, white wings that tire,
Though they carry the flower of the heart's desire--
Will you trust to these, too white, too slight
To bring back the fruit of heart's delight?
All round and about the spell-bound town
The ways are dusty, the woods are brown;
There are no green coverts, no welcoming flowers
For little weary butterfly wings,
No dew, no lilies, no glad live things.
'Neath the sky of steel and the brazen sun
White wings, kiss-laden, dropped one by one:
By twos and threes they dropped by the way,
And only one reached the grim, gray tower
Where, witched from his kingdom, the poor Prince lay--
One poor tired butterfly, smirched and gray
With the dust of the town and the weary way,
And it lit on the Prince's hand and died.
'Bright wings, light wings, white wings,' he cried
'You, only you, might have lived and borne
My prayer to my love in her tower forlorn,
And brought back the kiss that could set me free--
She might have broken the spell that lies
On my foolish heart and my foolish eyes--
But no live butterflies come my way!'
The winds are cold and the skies are gray,
And all the lilies died yesterday;
The Princess leans from her steel-wrought tower
To watch for her butterflies hour by hour.
Poor little Princess, you watch in vain!
Butterflies die where the green wood browns,
And kisses sent to enchanted towns
Never come home again.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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When a camel is at the foot of a mountain then judge of his height.