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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Related quotes
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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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 - 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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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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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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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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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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Love N Hate
THIS IS A GIFT FROM THE DARK WORLD
WITH ALL MY HEART, WELCOME TO MY WORLD
IT IS GIVEN TO BELOVED ONES
A HEART FULL OF SINS
THE SINS OF THY BELOVED
RESTLESS, YOU'RE MY FEELING
DISAPPOINTMENT, YOU'RE MY COMPANION
FORGOTTEN, AROUND THE ONE I'VE LOVED
ISOLATED, IS WHAT I AM NOW
TO HELL WITH ALL THOSE SYMPATHY
IT'S ALL THE SAME TO ME
IN THE WOMB HAS WRITTEN MY FATE
LOSING ANY LOVE, IS ALL MY HATE...
*1st poem
poem by Ahmad Tarmizi
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Dearly Beloved (write To Me)
Write me a poem, dearly beloved,
Write of your love, your fidelity, your proclivity
For doing what is right for me, not what is right;
Speak to me of what you feel
Not sugared words served on pity tarts
Write me a poem, dearly beloved,
If you cannot, then contend to break my heart.
Write me a prose, dearly beloved,
Then narrate it on an elevated stand
To the heavens and the sea and whatever lies betwixt
The shadows of both so that all can hear;
Speak only truth for I cannot stomach lies of such art
Write me a prose, dearly beloved,
If you cannot, then contend to break my heart.
Write me a sonnet, dearly beloved
And sing it by the edge of the fast flowing stream
Sing to me as if you sang to all the forest
And called forth its life from the concealing leaves of jade
And of this assembly of the innocent, I shall be an active part
So write me a sonnet, dearly beloved,
If you cannot, then contend to break my heart.
poem by Samah Khan
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Let's Walk Through This Garden
Come, my beloved, let us walk through this garden
Where lots of bees enchanting with the nature
Life of bees has got the life in the heaven
And placed it on the peach and citrus tree
Let us follow the footprint of those bees
Who has walked miles over the mountain?
The mountain to draw nectar high above the cool plain
Let us go into the fields, my beloved,
For the time of those who left to harvest
Seed of love has sowed into this garden
As the spirit nourishes the grain of joy with love in burden
Let us hear the melodies of the wind touch the wings
Let's sit beside this flower and pursue their exchange of the sweetness of kisses.
Let us go into the next field, my beloved,
Let's us not fill our heart with joy of sadness
Bees are yet to shed tears for those who have already lost their heavies
Under the forced of the whispering wind
Let us tend the bloom of the earth
Let us make the flowers our happiest heaven
Let us relax after the day's toil,
And listen to the murmur of the provoke bees
Rather parting with old acquaintance.
Oh! Let us return to our dwelling, my beloved!
For the wind has caused the yellow leaves to fall;
And shroud the withering flower that whisper elegy to the bees
Come my beloved, come close to me since nature has just wearied
And bidding her enthusiasm farewell.
With quiet and content sorrow
Come close to me beloved; come too closed to me.
Let us speak glory of our heart,
For that is greater than the sorrow of the bees
Lost her heaves in the flower garden
Under the force of the merciless whispering wind.
poem by Kezang Dawa
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Li Po drowns
Li Po sits drinking wine;
he is in his garden
below the tree
reciting his poems to the night
and he sings to the cool air
and he sings to the moon
and he drinks more in between
Li Po walks to the lake
and he sings to the moon:
I will come to you, beloved
I will come to you
for you have waited for me centuries
for you have glowed nights
looking for me;
I will come to you, even now,
beloved moon,
I will come to you, even now
and Li Po walks to his boat
and he rows his boat
and he rows his boat gleefully
and he rows singing
and Li Po is in the middle of the lake
and he stops there to look at his beloved
whose radiant wholeness
shimmers in the water
and Li Po sings always
his song of love to his moon:
I will come to you, beloved
I will come to you
for you have waited for me centuries
for you have glowed nights
looking for me;
I will come to you, even now,
beloved moon,
I will come to you, even now
and Li Po jumps into the lake
and he struggles and he swims
and he swims and he struggles
and he sings:
I come to you, beloved,
I come to you
you who have waited centuries for me
radiant and a-glow in the sky
I come to you now
and he swims towards the distorted moon in the lake
and he beats his hands at the moon in the lake
and Li Po struggles
and Li Po clutches at the watery moon
and Li Po is his with his beloved
after centuries he is come
and Li Po is with his love
Li Po is with his beloved moon:
Li Po flies to the moon; Li Po flies to the moon
poem by Raj Arumugam
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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-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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In the spirit of Rumi - 24
‘O My Beloved,
Only when I am close to You
is the world in perfect order, and
contentment enfolds me in warm arms;
only then am I at peace;
only then is my heart at rest
and I am still within myself
and know that heart to be true constancy…’
O My Beloved,
You heard me speak this
from my heart, to You; and then
You smiled.
And in that smile I knew
all that I had written, to be but
the faintest, pale reflection
of Your love for me;
for me whose heart You made,
to be there as a mirror of Your love.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I Chant Your Name Oh Beloved
Chant Your Name
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the raindrops on a roof
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the breeze in the leaves
I chant Your name o beloved
Like the snowflakes on mountain peaks
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the dew drops in the field
I chant your name O beloved
As Your blood pulsate in my veins
I chant Your name O beloved
As the bees buzz around my head
In silence I chant Your name O Beloved
As they carry my whispered prayers
poem by Persian Khushi
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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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In the spirit of Rumi - 26
To My Beloved I said
‘When I am away from you, O Beloved,
out in the market place of this world,
I remember that I have forgotten
one thing – but cannot remember
what it can be…’
My Beloved said
Is it yourself?
‘It is of myself, yet
it is not myself..’
‘Is it Myself? ’
‘It is of Yourself, yet
it is not Yourself..’
‘Then it must be that one thing
which is most precious to you:
that for which your life was bought in the market place
at the price of a great jewel,
which is your paradise;
that which you love beyond all else,
but have not yet found;
that for which your whole life
should be exchanged;
find that one thing without delay,
and you will have no more questions,
only the joy of working at the work
for which you were born..’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Beloved
On my knees i chant your name oh beloved
like the raindrops on the roof
i chant your name oh beloved
like the rusttling leave in the breeze
i chant your name oh beloved
like the dew drops in te field
i chant your name oh beloved
like the snow on mountain peaks
i chant your name oh beloved
as i breath
i chant your name oh beloved
as i whisper in sincere pray...
poem by Persian Khushi
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A Poem For My Beloved
i will sing a song
for you
a sweet song
more like
a whisper
from my soul
for you
my beloved
it is a song
from my heart
filled with
so much
love
it is a song
of smooth words
like a chinese
porcelain
a song of joy
more of bliss
that early
this morning
you wake me
up from such
a stupor
it is a song
about you loving me
even if i have
forgotten you
sometimes
it is a song of praise
and worship
because you my
beloved is always
My God
alleluia! alleluia!
I bow to God
i am his servant.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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