In the spirit of Rumi - 43 - The Poet
And they often said,
‘O poet, as you call yourself –
why are all your verses
to your divine Beloved, full
of ‘as’ and ‘like’? ’ –
‘Her lips are like red rubies, or as strawberries’…
‘Her neck, as slender as that of a running young gazelle’…
‘Her smile is like sun after rain’…
‘Why do you tempt us with these earthly things? ’
The poet said
‘Like’ and ‘as’ are the keys to heaven, no less:
there is no language spoken yet by men
equal to the language of Her presence –
my truest poetry is spoken in the moment when
I look upon her beauty, but stunned to silence –
but how then to praise her, tell of her
to those who never saw her beauty yet? …
and so, I take those things most familiar,
most dear to the senses of all mortal men,
saying, is this not beautiful? And yet, beyond all this
her beauty, which yet comprehends all sense,
all mind, all spirit, all love, all lovers, is her love…
and even when I do not say those words,
but, silent, let an image come of her:
‘A gazelle ran wide-eyed through my dream; and I awoke
with the taste of strawberries on my lips…’
then, I know myself to be blest by her,
and yet, the image but a teasing veil;
this is her immortal gift to poets –
to know their mortal failure, yet
to sing to men: I saw her but in passing…yet…
now, I am possessed of her, and sworn
the Beloved’s servant all my loving life…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Beauty stands on the way;
Beautiful face attracts, pervades gay.
Busy poet waits a while for enjoyment;
Beauty’s smile mirrors in mind with merriment.
Behaviour of Beauty is a gift of Almighty;
Beauty’s silvery face attracts lovers with gaiety.
Beloved Beauty is a Heaven’s Fairy;
Beautiful appearance makes the Earth flowery.
Beauty is a Heavenly Deity;
Blossoms love bloom on her face with gaiety.
Body of Beauty is an uncommon attraction;
The bride on the altar allures the lover with affection.
Blooming Beauty smiles delightfully;
Buttery fall enthuses gaily.
Busy poet enchants enjoying the beauty enthusiastically;
Breeze of spring kisses the Bride cordially.
Bright sub beam kisses Beauty delightfully;
Brilliant lover enjoys the art of Nature gaily.
Beauty passes on the way politely;
Beauty’s face reminisces in poet’s mind pleasantly.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Sonnet: Poetic Limits
Can words depict the true beauty of things?
Can words describe the truth of every scene?
Can words expound the hearts of all earthlings?
Can words decode the joy of things unseen?
Can words bring out the beauty of music?
Can words suffice to explain mysteries?
Can words repaint the beauty of a ‘pic’?
Can words spell out the taste of foods/berries?
And yet, the poet slogs with words and sounds;
With mastery and skills, unique, unknown;
And takes the reader’s hearts to divine grounds,
Or earthly terrains akin to their own.
Kudos to Bards! Who pen and sing supreme,
To create things felt/seen or in a dream.
9-21-2002
poem by John Celes
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In Silence
You left the lines blank for me love
And again you ask why wrote my plaint
When you are in front of me I am lost
In the beauty of your hair your lips
In the gazelle eyes and the music
From the tongue that licks honey
When I open my mouth for my words
You place your finger on your lips
Enter the silence of my love else
I leave you in the oblivions vast
Like a flute from the reed in silence
Wail I long as separated from beloved
You make my silence in colors float
When in the bloom of spring I enter
The garden where nightingale sings
In silence sitting by the rose
In silence my love I live in thou
7/2/2009
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Silence (Part I)
Sometimes I see you as my child,
Sometimes I see you as my sweetheart,
And when I look into your eyes,
I see that tender and sweet smile,
And I want to say what’s in my heart,
And I want to tell you how I feel,
But my voice remains there, still,
And I just stare at your loving face,
And let the love from my heart,
Flow like a wild river in furious race,
to enfold your sweet and pure soul
with a sea of love and tenderness.
Sometimes there’s so much to say,
but nothing flows from my lips,
And only silence is there to stay,
And only the silence I should keep,
Because what I had to say was already said,
How words could express
never-ending love and tenderness?
How could I just say at one time,
I love you more than my own life?
And there remains the deep silence,
Silence and more silence,
to signal that divine presence,
of my silent love; my heart’s essence.
But this silence is not empty silence,
when divine love fills all my senses,
when nature’s beauty colours your soul,
and fades away all pity and woe.
Because when there is silence,
you can hear the silent language,
the heavenly music of my heart’s song,
God’s eternal music He’s been playing all along,
And in that silence you’ll hear my song,
The endless tune that my love sings,
with the sweetest notes in your luscious dreams,
which eternally flow like endless streams.
(2009)
poem by Roberto Echanes
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Beauty In You Boils Like Wine Yet You Are So Divine
You are eternal so is love
Everything is for change but not beauty of my love..
Beauty in you is admired by all
Here i'm as adorable not for all..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty is you that's true
Honey.. it's true mirror never lies you..
I never lie but can lie for you and
For your happiness can die for you..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty is sacred so are you
Beauty is priceless so in you
You are precious but not for the world
Can bet anything to make you my world
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beautiful is you not my life
Your beauty is immortal not my eyes
Oh Mine...
Your beauty is the way to heaven
Show me way to your heart which is next to seven..
Take me the way i am and
make me the way you want..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
You are my love worth to die for
You are my freedom worth to fight for..
I made my guts to compromise
Beauty in you is worth a sacrifice..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
My words can sail but are not for sale
Can sacrifice in love to make you my fairy tale..
This song of mine is only for you my sunshine
I can sing this song specially for you my divine..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
I've signed your name on each dropp of my sweat and
Will dream of you till the last day of my breath..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine..
poem by Dr Vinay Sirigere
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Hey There Beloved
Hey there beloved why are you walking away from me?
Hey there beloved don't you know all those gifts are from me?
Hey there beloved I carried you through your storms
Hey there beloved come back to me
Hey there beloved don't you know I'm waiting with open arms
Hey there beloved I wish you were not blind but could turn back and see
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
Hey there beloved you don't have to try to be something you're not
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
Hey there beloved I love you with my entire being
Hey there beloved that's grander than the universe itself
Hey there beloved you've strayed so far away
Hey there beloved I'll always call you back
Hey there beloved I'll always be waiting
Hey there beloved I still love y-
Hey there beloved h--
Hey there be-----
Hey--------
H--------
______ ______________
poem by David Knox
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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
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I have thrown words beloved
I have thrown words beloved,
thrown words at thy feet,
tried to comfort and blanket thee
with verses complete
tried to wrap me
in words of meadowsweet.
I have tried beloved
to express my love to thee,
tried to be at thy side
but life with its challenges
sent me far and wide
and sometime only in my mind
I still see your sweet image,
scent your smell, touch your lips
and have you here with me
and I still love thee sincerely.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Silvery Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent silvery beauty passes on the way;
Poet beholds the beauty of Beauty with gay.
The creation of Nature is alluring;
Innocent Beauty is dazzling.
Beautiful face allures passes by;
Allures lovers with gay.
Beauty is the creation of Almighty;
Beholding, poet derives gaiety.
Beauty tranquilises poet's mind on the way;
Poet derives profound peace with gay.
Curly crisp wavy long cloudy hairs entice the poet;
Mind remains in the world of peace with delight.
Innocent beautiful face allures the poet in evening;
Poet's mind is delighting.
With a little conversation mind is peaceful;
Her sweet talk is delightful.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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By Night The muses told me.
By night the muses snatched me away, in to their
loveliest
Abode where the gods grow fond of. But poor I am in word to describe
The heavenly refinement of this humble paradise.
Laying me helplessly on this sour grass and looking into the early skies as a lover
On the tour of painful love and yet whispering in my ears as my ears quiver for answers
My dear poet the fairest of them all, whose heart is as loveliest as a thousand bouquets of roses laid by the lover's bed.
Grow within your thought the learning of love and let the world be indeed a beautiful place for you.
Though I do not challenge your words great muses, whose radiate skin bring light in darkness, whose word flow from your mouth as you were present when the world came to being, my great and wonderful muses, whose song feels the heart of the faint lover and bring to tame the proudest heart of the lion on a mid day hunt.
Your beauty I as a mortal i dare not compare any beauty with.
How should I love, how should I give my heart and not get pain in return,
You trained my heart and though I am weak, spirit me away in to your humble blossom
And let me rest my head on your golden lap.
For my lips are so moisten with words from my heart, I am not in control of my self.
If I, a lover of a thousand women, how then should I, a god like me
In mortal flesh prevent my pleasures for over taking me.
Hence my muse answered,
my dear poet and god, who I bestow my graces upon, who
Are the hands I write my songs and poem with, do no despair, write what ever I tell you through your heart and understand my plight, but if still you do not comprehend go and listen to my dear god Ovid, it was him Venus thought the art of love
But oh my dear lord and love muses, your words grace my heart, but my mind is not at peace
Ovid my great and wonderful love teacher, who none compares not even Shakespeare with his renown wits and words' sit with open eyes and heart applaud when he delivers the speech of love. But still I am a lover of thousand women.
My dearest, whom I endowed with the riches of words, hear me, your heart though full of wonder love, it is with it I deliver the power of love through, learn to live with it my young poet.
Tell the loveliest women how you feel and if she does not comprehend, craft them into words on paper, go my young poet and tell the ladies of the world through your words how elegant they seem in there natural beauty, how beauty grows and fade. Tell them to grace there appearance with inner beauty for the goddess and muses shall be with you.
You are my handy work, the man of a thousand lover, forgive cupid for his jealous looks my dear poet live and enjoy your fruitful days as young, soon old age comes fleeting in a chariot.
poem by Samuel Donkor
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Innocent Face Vavroovahana Patra
The innocent face allures the poet in the morn;
The Beauty magnifies the beauty of the dawn.
Mind derives peace;
Poet lives with Divine Bliss.
Poet is a lover of Beauty;
Beautiful things enchant the poet with gaiety.
Loves Silvery face delightfully;
Loves innocent hearts silently.
Vernal chilly Breeze kisses the crisp hair delightfully;
Fragrance of Beauty bathes poet's body with gaiety.
Poet is inspired to remain in a world of peace;
Praying in the lap of Nature derives Divine Bliss.
Innocent rural Beauty proceeds silently;
Poet, a lover of Beauty, beholds enthusiastically.
Innocence provides delight;
Inspiration is a Brook of Delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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0008 A Ghazal about Ghazals
A poet friend spoke of a poetic form called a ghazal
and said, why don’t you try to write a poem like a ghazal?
They’ve been revived in recent years in English, in fact
there’s even a periodical devoted to the ghazal…
and you’re rather keen on that mystical poetry stuff?
and love and such? Why don’t you try the ghazal?
My usual reaction to suggestions like that is, no..
but I googled Wikipedia out of curiosity, on ghazal
which told me everything about it except
why anyone should choose to write a ghazal..
which as you see, is such a restrictive poetic form..
And then I found a passing mention about the word ghazal
it said that the name came from the cry of the gazelle…
and that, told me more than anything about the ghazal…
since a gazelle, like any animal, bereft of the power of speech
and thus of poetry, is the very essence of the ghazal
in that, whether from pain, from danger, from love
- or visited by God - cries the same cry of the gazelle – the ghazal;
as poets, seeking to express the inexpressible, are as limited
in their success, as crying animals, in their way – the ghazal
may thus be seen as every poem that ever poet wrote;
crying within itself, one cry alone...So the ghazal
must choose the human word for its repeated call
with care... ah! yearning heart! ... for One or All! ... Ghazal!
poem by Michael Shepherd
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How can I empty My Mind?
Came out that emptiness,
Bored of what I was,
Looking at the atom shining somewhere in me,
I looked at wonderful world I entered,
Looking at beauties with beautiful faces,
I was only the faceless,
Wished to have a face!
Result is what I am now,
Facing problems of having a face,
Not seen by myself!
Some say look into mirror,
But mirror showed image which is not me,
How can live this is me looking at image?
In the path I met some one,
They said ' you suffered a lot,
Empty your mind, be happy, '
But how can empty my mind,
So many fill it everyday,
Hungry faces,
thirsty minds,
Needy hands fill compassion,
lusty and greedy, selfish and cruel fill
people fill pain,
Wise one fill wisdom,
Fools fill laughter,
Friends fill it with love and smile!
How can I empty my mind,
When beauty around,
Smiling kids, playing puppies,
Jumping and running kittens,
colourful fragrant flowers,
Surrounded by bees and butterflies,
Green trees with wide hands full of fruits,
All call me to enjoy with them!
Tall standing trees and stubborn mountains,
lakes and oceans full of life,
they fill my mind as much I empty, more they fill!
I emptied mind in meditation,
But the beauty of one who filled beauty in all filled my mind,
How can empty love for that beautiful one,
Who is that beauty in all that's beautiful!
Smiling and loving people,
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Poetothemics
No magician can make
Moon: A beautiful lass.
A poet can............
No device can grasp
The language of celestial
A poet can.....
You know! He dug out the beauty
From sorrow and melancholy
Mixed it with wine and enjoyed.
And He, enjoyed the song of her,
language was not known to him.
And He, depicted spirit of revolution
As a spiritual bird.An Albatross.
Bursted he and questioned to me.
'What device a poet has?
How they operated the device? '
I replied..
When a vinsect bites to a poet
Poetothemics activated.
'Never heard such words before! '
Now you heard from me!
He said...A poet can...
............***...........
poem by Aftab Alam Khursheed
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God Is The Law!
God is law, o Soul listen,
God is behind, that beauty around,
His presence makes flowers beautiful,
His presence brings
Fragrance to it,
Nature is green and full of life,
because he dwells there!
God is the one behind beauty of children,
God is present in beauty of woman,
God fills the strength in arms and chest of a man,
God's presence, makes the nightingale sing,
God is the Law who makes peacock dance,
God is the Law who make every one fight or work,
God is the Law who makes write read and sing,
as a law make everyone strong and good and talented!
Look at the death of a man,
He dies in three stages,
One when is limbs and legs become cold,
And then the tongue fails to say some thing,
Eyes that tries to see some one,
Ears to hear somthing from someone,
Finally with deep sigh God in him withdraws his last breath!
All animals and plant take birth and die as God is that law!
God is the Law, bring one into life,
God is the Law who make one enjoy and smile,
God is the Law of life or death,
God is law of love and likes,
God is law of mortal journey, God is the Law of happiness,
God is that immortal law,
God is full of immortal ideals and knowledge,
God is the Law of cause and effect,
God is that immortal law of all existence!
Ah! God is that grand law of all subtle laws and gross ones!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Rose
This immortal rose that lovers seek
will be glimpsed by all in youthful peak
for her presence will be on every corner.
And those who confuse that heady perfume
with a lust for love,
will only find winter in an unknown heart
for beauty was always a fragile thing.
We who have seen this gift from above
will always get burned by its light.
The poet and the painter
have perfumed our existence
with loves testimony to this.
The pain and tears fall on empty shield
for love will break your heart
but when we reach out to hold the rose
picked from these fields of hope,
a moment in life unfurls,
love will kiss your soul
and the world belongs to you.
Fleeting are the petals of time
the rose is a symbol to love.
For others it is the pain of life,
to find and lose this immortal gift
leaves a desert where life cannot breathe.
The laughter replaced by silence
the smile that is kept in darkness,
the kiss exiled to the memory.
Love is lost in the deepest pit
of your despair,
the thorns will bleed your soul red
but she can never die.
Love will always leave a spark
that will lead you to redemption
and only death can take this from you.
The rose was never yours to pick
but its creation yours to admire
for your being was made for this.
And as our mortal bodies die
the spirit will seek the rose once more
for in death its petals fall too
blessing the ground of your resting place.
The rose was always yours
and its beauty a source of life
the chains of doubt will always
break in its presence.
The rose is pure
as is your faith in mankind.
It can show you a deeper meaning
for you are the petals of life
she is the perfume of your existence
and it is you that made her life complete.
poem by Steven Cooke
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Remember how in that communion only, beholding beauty with the eye of the mind, he will be enabled to bring forth, not images of beauty, but realities (for he has hold not of an image but of a reality), and bringing forth and nourishing true virtue to become the friend of God and be immortal, if mortal man may.N.B. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. See also Napoleon Bonaparte.
Silvery Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent silvery Beauty allures the poet;
Poet waits a while for a little delight.
Admires the art of creations;
Pervading the mystery of Beauty she frees tension.
Silvery Beauty allures delightfully;
Poet drinks the nectar of Beauty gaily.
The vehicle waits a while on the path;
Poet enchants with mirth.
Beauty is a gift of Almighty;
Lover enjoys with Delight.
Beauty enchants mind, heart miraculously;
Lover functions duty delightfully.
Poet heart reminisces Beauty’s face with gaiety;
He derives peace and delight;
All beautiful things are attracting;
In the lap of Nature are delighting.
Beauty appears with peace and pleasure;
Contents lover’s desire.
Beauty is a Deity;
Lover prays with gaiety.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The Everlasting Throes of Those
The Everlasting Throes
Of Those
Who Argue about Poetry versus Prose
And about the Propriety or Crime
Of Meter and Rhyme
In Poetry:
as I see it, it’s back to the ancient Greek idea
of three near-absolutes – Truth, Beauty and Goodness
and although they’re all absolute in their aim,
and therefore theoretically equal,
most of us, I suspect, have our personal order for this list
those who put Truth first at all costs are more likely
to write prose; but if they love beauty in words
and have the urge to write something beautiful in words
they may try poetry; but to them,
rhyme is untruthful, dishonest, because
looking for a rhyme
becomes a crime:
and leads your mind away from the strict Truth.
while those who put Beauty first don’t have
a fixed attitude – they may, as children do,
love the formal music of hearing about
A certain Mrs Dhutti
Who was very slightly nutty
She wouldn’t wear a saree
As her arms and legs were hairy
And thought it was much better
To wear trousers and a sweater
etc.
or they may feel that their response to the world
is so full of love, of awe, of wonder
(of which Aristotle said the second and third
are shared by philosophers, that is, lovers - note the word - of wisdom,
and poets – though a poet
may not know it…)
where was I oh yes, their response to the world
is most truly - note the word - expressed
in free verse
which may be better poetry
or worse
and what about Goodness – oh let’s not
get into that: the poetry Forums are full of the emptiness
(though it’s a necessary evil, looked at in a way)
of poets and readers and critics saying
what’s good poetry and what’s bad
according to them and feeling
they’ve made a contribution to
Truth, Goodness, and Beauty, in that order
by pronouncing this.
some few, some worthy few, and I’ll mention no names
for reasons not unconnected as Milton might put it
with the previous stanza,
whose brilliance of that servant mind which we all share,
manages to juggle Beauty, Goodness and Truth,
in that order in this instance, and not only juggle but
remain faithful to them all; we could call them
The Absolutely Great – they speak straight from heart to heart
and they don’t worry about prosaic considerations like the above
because they’ve got it all, all this, within their art; within
their constant heart.
(Readers, please note,
that last line’s a quote.)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Why are you Silent, Oh Cold Beauty?
Why are you silent, Oh cold beauty?
Your attire is simplicity...
Your beauty expressive like eyes of a dancer with a divine spirit...
Call I your muteness your wisdom's speech?
Or fear of a frail soul?
Should I make you divine or meek?
Innocent or ingenious?
Glory of a shrine or a dust of its pavement?
What name I give to your silence?
For u shall be beautiful still!
For a poet night is as beautiful as day…
Wisdom or fear...
Divine or meek
Innocence or ingenuity
Shrines dust or shrines glory...
All rise from heart of beauty taking different courser to meet again in the spirit of love...! !
To sail with d current of devotion with no oppression of tides...! !
With no fear of being exiled to unknown dark showers...
With buried skulls and serpents...
Born in dark...
Rose from dark…
Slept in radiance wide awake...
Speak oh beauty...
For beauty is boundless...
For it sleeps in death's arms to awake in eternities embrace...
poem by Lama Abbas
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