In the spirit of Rumi - 41 - Prayer
In the street outside the window
a beautiful young maiden passes;
only her eyes, looking straight ahead, demurely down,
are to be seen of her, above her veil, below her headscarf; and yet –
around her, as we draw our breath, transfixed –
around her, all the air is radiant with the light of love…
and in the following days, for hours each day,
we, love-smitten, wait in hope to catch her
as she passes; and the more we see her passing,
the more we seek to snare her attention;
hoping for the day when, as she passes,
her lovely eyes may glance so briefly, glance this way…
and on that day, the day of days
which we have waited for, for weeks and months -
then, it is no longer all we want:
how to ensnare her gaze? so that, one day,
our burning ears and lips may draw one single word from her…
*
Wise men say in the ancient tongue, the word,
to pray, meant, to incline, to listen – and, to snare…
and so for every one of us, our whole life is prayer:
from the first moment to the last,
from the first time when the baby’s eyes
meet those of loving parents, until
the last moment when our eyes turn upward…
we bow in adoration of the Beloved,
of whom we are not worthy; yet…
then listen for the first word breathed
by child; by parent; lover; ruler; God…
And, lover and beloved both alike,
set snares to catch our Beloved to ourselves…
that Beloved who is outside us, yet within…
that sleeping beauty who is our very self.
and, since prayer is love, our Beloved
sets snares for us also, to test our love;
this is the lovely game of love…
God plays it too with us:
to test our faith, to test our trust, to test our love…
Prayer, O Beloved, is pure love.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Hey There Beloved
Hey there beloved why are you walking away from me?
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Hey there beloved come back to me
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Hey there beloved don't you notice my art?
Hey there beloved my love for you is in every night sky
Hey there beloved look for my love in the sunset
Hey there beloved, the sun is for you
Hey there beloved the coolness of clouds is for your enjoyment
Hey there beloved I love you
Hey there beloved You can walk away
Hey there beloved it makes me cry when you chase other lovers, but
Hey there beloved I'll let you go because I want you to choose me
Hey there beloved I want you to learn to love me
Hey there beloved don't go to them
Hey there beloved they cannot fill you up
Hey there beloved, I'll never give up on you
Hey there beloved I'm full of tears
Hey there beloved I made you for so much more
Hey there beloved you don't have to dress like that
Hey there beloved they don't really love you
Hey there beloved you're more than just a body
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Hey there beloved I still love you
Hey there beloved you don't have to earn my love
Hey there beloved those things won't satisfy you
Hey there beloved heed my voice that path will destroy you
Hey there beloved you're broken, but
Hey there beloved my heart breaks for you
Hey there beloved can't you see the brokenness?
Hey there beloved why do you ignore me
Hey there beloved.... I love you with all that I am
Hey there beloved, that's everything there is
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Hey there beloved that's grander than the universe itself
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Hey there beloved I'll always call you back
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Hey there beloved h--
Hey there be-----
Hey--------
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poem by David Knox
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In the spirit of Rumi - 10
I said to My Beloved
You have given me all Your love;
I have given You all my love;
what more can I give to You?
My Beloved said
If you love Me, then show your love
by seeing, knowing, all
that happens to you in your short life
as gifts from Me..
all events, all acts, all thoughts,
all seeming accidents, all illnesses,
all that arises from your meetings with others,
all their words to you –
see them all as Me
I said to My Beloved,
O My Beloved, my love is great
yet my will is weak;
I love You as I love life itself -
help me in this!
My Beloved said
It will not be easy; for
this will be the measure of your love for Me…
My help is this:
every time you see Me in some passing moment,
in some passing event in your life
be it harsh, or seem unfair— yes,
especially in this, my fiercely loving love -
you will know My love for you
as you have never known My love
for you so great, so pure
I said to My Beloved
This hard and lovely thing, O My Beloved,
will be the measure of my love for You.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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In the Spirit of Rumi
I said to My Beloved
I love You
May I know You?
My Beloved said
I am unknown
I said to My Beloved
Still, I love You
May I see You?
My Beloved said
I am formless
I said to My Beloved
Still, I love You
Might I lose You?
My Beloved said
I am eternal
I said to My Beloved
Still, I love You
Might You leave me?
My Beloved said
I am always present
I said to My Beloved
I love You
My Beloved said
I am love itself
I said, O My Beloved
poem by Michael Shepherd
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In the Spirit of Rumi-16
I said to My Beloved
How, my dearest one,
do you know those who truly love You?
My Beloved said
Not by their smiling face,
nor by their eagerness;
nor by the quickness of their response,
nor by the force and wealth of their response
pleasing though these are –
but by their stillness: as
a rose is still; or as a fine-proportioned vase is still;
or as a sunlit golden dome is still;
or as the bluest vault of heaven is still;
they have a stillness all about them; for
their hearts are ever at rest; there is no need
for their still heart to move; they are
always the same; they rest in love;
they meet you with all love,
they greet you with all love;
you cannot add to their true love,
you cannot take away from their true love;
and if you wish to test their love,
the test is constancy; there is no change in them;
they speak, they feel, they act, from constancy;
what is their substance? It is constancy;
I stand with them in constancy,
they stand with Me in constancy..
if that is not what you would ask of them in love,
then they are not for you; but they,
they are My true lovers, lovers of the truth in Me
-said My Beloved.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Beloved - Hide Your Eyes
A steep but lovely trail -
I notice a divide and realize
before me lies a known and beloved path - beloved of you.
And you, beloved of me,
the longing comes to choose your chosen trail.
I want to see the flowers you saw that day
when you held my hand and my heart all at once.
In seeing the rocks and branches you cherished
I might catch a ghost like glimpse of a once loved you.
The once loved you - a once beloved me.
Beloved no more.
And maybe the present me might stumble upon the present you.
The steps hasten now to the path, the rocks, the branches.
The steps stop.
What if I find your eyes and they find mine?
What looks out from a beloved's eyes when love has departed?
I choose the other path.
poem by Meli Secret
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Life Has A Great Customer!
Life is having one great customer,
The Lord in disguise in every life,
Blessed is the lotus, which blooms in mudfilled lake,
Golden petals lotus, in trifle suffered hearts,
May it be an Einstein,
or may a Gibran,
Such births take place in this pool,
Filled with so many problems!
Yet the love is so great,
I love my beloved more than my life,
This life is his,
This life is for him,
Every moment I die and reborn in him,
Every sound of rustling leaves,
My beloved's call,
With every wind the fragrance of beloved cometh,
Every moving cloud shows,
Different face of my beloved,
With every raise and fall of a wave,
My beloved shows up,
In every golden rays of the Morning Sun is my beloved's procession,
Rooster calling, wake up see the glories procession of beloved,
Birds singing praise of the beloved,
In dewdrops his world shineth,
Everyday if one rooster or bird gone,
It take the rebirth to sing his glory,
Every dew dropp evaporated appear next morning,
So am I to die every moment,
To this world I am dead,
Ever living and sleeping in beloved's heart,
Whenever I want my eyes to fill his glory,
I come out of his heart,
Stand aside, and look at my beloved's beautiful face!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Heart From Eyes
Come back.
The beloved lives to be loved.
What becomes of the beloved
when love is no longer in being?
How does a heart and body turn two different ways?
The heart turns to the beloved.
The eyes turn away.
This tearing goes on.
Heart from eyes. Distance lengthens.
I know time will cure it.
But right now...
Heart from eyes, heart from eyes, heart from eyes.
poem by Meli Secret
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In the Spirit of Rumi - 15
To My Beloved I said
O My Beloved,
tell me of Yourself;
I yearn to know
My Beloved said
O my dearest one,
tell me, rather, of yourself;
for only in knowing yourself
and knowing what you do not know
may you know Myself
to My Beloved I said
I breathe; and yet
I was never taught to breathe.
I breathe perfectly;
who taught me then, to breathe?
In the light of the Sun,
I see all that may be seen;
who taught my eyes to see?
who taught the Sun to shine?
With my breath,
with my eyes,
I see love, breathe love in my heart;
who put it there?
Every day, I eat,
every day I need to eat;
every day there is some food;
who makes earth into bread?
Every day I make mistakes,
yet every day I live again;
my children I forgive their mistakes;
who will teach me my mistakes,
who will forgive me my mistakes?
Every day I find my world the greater,
every day my powers are greater;
every day the world’s glory is greater;
who made these boundaries to be boundless?
Every day, I think of death;
every day, I am alive;
every day, I seek the truth;
who joins these three, and who divides?
my Beloved said to me
In your questions, love.
In the answer, love.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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All night. (Day 2)
lying there in bed with your beloved
thinking what tommorow will lead you two
daydreaming what will happen from here
few months being married
you get the news you are going to have baby
happy about having a baby but is your beloved happy
well just hoping to be the pround parent
wanting to be the best parent of all
getting the baby room set up
making it look pretty and all
wanting it to be nice when the baby comes
you and your beloved is so exited
the day is here when your child is coming
going through the hard pain of labor
giving birth and seeing everything a blurr
hearing the word the baby is not breathing
you fear for your life
hoping that your baby is not dead
passing out because you were tired
waking up wanting to hold your baby for the first time
your beloved tells you the baby is alive but
under major breathing problems
End of Day 2. Come back tommorow to read more.
This poem is not real ok. I am just getting ready to become a real writter. Please let me know what you think.
poem by Bethany Williams
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Sonnet XXVI: Mid-Rapture
Thou lovely and beloved, thou my love;
Whose kiss seems still the first; whose summoning eyes,
Even now, as for our love-world's new sunrise,
Shed very dawn; whose voice, attuned above
All modulation of the deep-bowered dove,
Is like a hand laid softly on the soul;
Whose hand is like a sweet voice to control
Those worn tired brows it hath the keeping of:—
What word can answer to thy word,—what gaze
To thine, which now absorbs within its sphere
My worshipping face, till I am mirrored there
Light-circled in a heaven of deep-drawn rays?
What clasp, what kiss mine inmost heart can prove,
O lovely and beloved, O my love?
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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In the spirit of Rumi - 80 - Meditation
To the Lord, my Beloved, I said,
my Beloved: often I pray to You,
but more often, I confess,
it is to ask from You;
less often, to thank You or to praise You…
teach me, then, about meditation,
which men say to be a way
to be near You,
even beyond thanks or praise…
the Lord, my Beloved, said,
O you whom I love dearly as Myself,
whose praise and thanks are dear to Me
in ways that only I may know…
such is My nature, and is that of yours,
that only meditation may teach you meditation…
but this is all I ask of you:
that twice a day – and best,
at dawn and dusk, which are
the times I can be known to walk
in My garden of the world,
in the stillness of the morning,
in the stillness of the evening,
when My nature wakes or sleeps in peace…
that twice a day, you spend some time
saying – as if it were only once, and always once –
My name for you; your name for Me;
this will be our time of love;
this will be My test of your true love for Me:
and if at any time, your thoughts
stray away from Me, wandering in
the byways of the world –
that will not diminish My eternal love for you;
it will only mean, that you have forgotten
for the time not being, My love for you –
but if you truly love Me, then you will return
as a straying son returns,
and if you truly love Me,
you will then, know My love’s increase..
this will be our daily time together,
you and I; that is all I ask of you;
yet if, in all the other hours of the day,
I seem to you to stay
so much the nearer to you, close to you –
then that is but the mark of My love for you,
O you whom I love dearly as Myself;
so, together, let us speak each other’s name,
as lovers always shall.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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You Are My Valentine!
I love the way you dress;
I love the way you cook;
I love the way you work;
I love the way you love.
Beloved wife, you are my Valentine!
I love the way you talk;
I love the way you walk;
I love the way you care;
I love the way you stare.
Beloved wife, you are my Valentine!
I love the way you think;
I love the way you comb;
I love the way you ask;
I love the way you pray.
Beloved wife, you are my Valentine!
I love the way you cry;
I love the way you’re shy;
I love the way you war;
I love the way you are;
Beloved wife, you are my Valentine!
poem by John Celes
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In the Spirit of Rumi-18
I said to My Beloved
O My Beloved
I fear I have forgotten You!
I have fallen in love with the world –
when I walk out of the door
I swoon with the scent of the Spring air;
I hear each flower singing in the garden;
I sink into the heart of every rose;
I am dazzled by the sunlight;
I see the sky reflected in the lake
and lose myself in its shining stillness;
I see the sky and lose myself in the sky’s immensity;
when I walk, my feet want to dance;
when I speak, my heart wants to sing;
in every person who passes
old or young,
smiling or frowning,
I see myself in them;
wherever I look, I see only love…
I have fallen in love with the world –
O My Beloved, have I forgotten You?
My Beloved said
I am the one in you who sees all this.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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~~When I Love You~~
When i love you, my beloved~
...The earth will
...Stand still~
With no rotation upon it's Axis
...Until we have
...Our Fill~
Come gentle to me, my beloved~
...Embrace the
...Embers glow~
Hold me, as if, i am part of you
...As you and i
...Become one Soul~
Raise your sweet lips of surrender~
...Share that pearl
...Deep Inside~
Come to me, oh come to me, my beloved
...For tonight i am
...Your loving bride~
I am your ONLY lover, my sweet~
...And you are
...Only mine~
Remember that whenever i love you
...The World will
...Suspend in time~
poem by Theodora Onken
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In the spirit of Rumi - 7
‘My Beloved,
what can I give you of myself,
that I have not given? ’
My Beloved said
‘O my dearest one,
in all places, at all times,
remember Me.’
‘O My Beloved,
how can I not do that? ’
* * *
In tears, I returned to My Beloved
and said
‘O my dearest one,
a week has passed, and the world
pressed hard upon me…
‘The next day, I remembered You
three times each hour;
the second day, I remembered You
but once an hour;
on the third day, I remembered You
in some hours, once; some twice;
some not at all… and so it went…
But O My Beloved,
each morning as I woke
I remembered through my tears
how I had forgotten You…’
My Beloved said
‘In the remembering of the forgetting
there was a feast of sweetest honey for Me,
hiding like a new young bride
laughing with her bridegroom,
laughing with her eyes on Him,
in the silken tent of love.’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Do Not Go So Far
My beloved,
my love,
do not go so far,
so far,
beyond the
reach of my dreams
wherein
holding your heart in mine
write our names
entwined
on each passing cloud
and
in a state of soul embrace
smile
at the vanity of time.
My beloved,
my love,
do not go so far
so far
beyond the
reach of my dreams
wherein
leaning on the edge of horizon
weave
the beautiful blanket of togetherness
and
borrowing colors from the rainbow
paint it the color of
love.
My beloved,
my love,
do not go so far
so far
beyond the
spam of my arms
wherein
love is not just an emotion
or desires untamed or wild.
where
togetherness is not mere possession of bodies
mortal with each passing tide.
and
your just being there
illuminates
my mind
my soul
my life
My beloved,
my love,
do not go so far.
poem by Anjali Kakati
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In the Spirit of Rumi-40-The Nightingale and the Rose
As cold winter turns to warming Spring,
two lovers return from their winter rest.
The first rose shyly blooms; .
the nightingale pours out its song.
These are the two most generous lovers in the world;
do they not deserve each other?
In the daytime, while the nightingale takes its rest,
renews its generous throat,
the rose opens to embrace the world with beauty;
In the nighttime, while the rose folds and rests in sleep,
waiting to drink that purest dew of dawn,
the nightingale tells the world of beauty;
So each speaks in turn; both speak of beauty;
one in sound, the other in silence.
This way, telling of their love to the sleeping other;
Do they prefer it thus? Or is their listening
as sensitive as a mother’s nighttime intuition,
hearing more clearly, inwardly, in rest?
Which is the Lover, which is the Beloved?
Does the nightingale return in spring
at the first perfume of the rose,
drifting from the hedge and garden
like the messages of Layla and Majnun?
Or does the rose wait impatiently to bloom in Spring
until it hears – its petals trembling as they listen –
the nightingale’s song from that liquid throat?
Which is the Lover, which is the Beloved?
Does it matter to the world?
It matters only if that love is not equal; full;
generous beyond all worldly measure;
and then the Lover has become the Beloved,
the Beloved has become the Lover..
You and I, on our prayer-mat each day,
seeking God within ourselves,
which is the Lover, which the Beloved?
Have we yet become each other,
equal, full, and generous beyond all worldly measure;
night and day, as nightingale and rose?
As nightingales and roses sing forever
of each other's love
eternally, the round world turning, turning..
l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Beloved’s Home Vavroovahana Patra
The Curvy rural path mingles with the fountain;
The small home of the beloved smiles below the mountain.
Cosy purple sun beam kisses beloved’s Abode of peace;
She smiles as a Fairy of Heaven with Divine Bliss.
Solitude, tranquillity, peace reigns in the lap of Nature;
Beloved smiles with peace to content lover’s desire.
Blossoms of garden bloom delightfully;
Lovely bride attracts lover’s mind enthusiastically.
Flowers of Goldmohur welcomes the lover;
Melodious brook congratulates, contents lover’s desire.
Innocence pervades in the environment of beloved;
She allures lover, makes him glad.
Cuckoo’s melody enthuses the lover;
Derives perpetual peace in the lap of Nature.
Innocent beloved allures as a peerless Beauty;
Lover enchants in a dreamland with delight.
True love takes lovers on right path;
With a little conversation they derive mirth.
Love enhances day by day;
Lovers enjoy lives with gay.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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In the spirit of Rumi - 25
I said to My Beloved
Tell me the measure of truth
My Beloved said
Tell me first what you know of truth
‘One and one make two,
- as You and I’
My Beloved said
Tell me more of truth
‘Love draws me to You
as the white moth to the candle’s flame’
My Beloved said
Tell me more of truth
‘Love makes You and me
into one single perfect love’
My Beloved said
This is the measure of truth
which is immeasurable:
the greater the truth
the less it can be measured;
the greater the truth
the deeper it may be experienced;
this is its measure: its experience.
Truth has no other measure,
for only love can measure truth.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Couplet
Oh Khusrau, the river of love runs in strange directions.
One who jumps into it drowns, and one who drowns, gets across.
1
The creaking of the chain of Majnun is the orchestra of the lovers,
To appreciate its music is quite beyond the ears of the wise.
2
If I cannot see her, at least I can think of her, and so be happy;
To light the beggar's hut no candle is better than moonlight.
3
My heart is a wanderer in love, may it ever remain so.
My life's been rendered miserable in love, may it grow more and more miserable.
4
People think they are alive because they have soul in them,
But I am alive because I have love in myself,
And I'm a martyr due to the beloved's affliction,
(for, to a lover, nothing is dearer than
the affliction brought forth by the beloved) .
5
My beloved speaks Turkish, and Turkish I do not know;
How I wish if her tongue would have been in my mouth.
6
Old age and lovemaking do not go together;
But O Khusrau, you still remain a proof against this reasoning.
7
If there is a paradise on earth,
It is this, it is this, it is this
8
You look sleepless, in whose embrace did you pass the night;
Your intoxicated eye has still the signs of tipsiness.
9
The dust of your doorstep is just the right thing to apply,
If Surmah (kohl powder) does not show its beauty in the eye!
10
How can her eyes reflect any sympathy, with my night-long wakefulness?
For she herself knows of nothing, in the night, except sleeping.
11
I have become you, and you me, I am the body, you soul;
So that no one can say hereafter, that you are someone, and me someone else.
poem by Amir Khusro
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