Forever Sonnets (Poetry Blog)

Guest of January ------------ And finally, she was with me in January, It's the season when snow veils the valley entirely She loves mushy zone; the vale was like Miss edan !  With bees, and crockroaches  she has a chid;  That's one reason why she select this season Amazing apple trees bathing in snow beguiled Her spirit; thus she pinned a dozen poems  About all wet things as like; leas, eagle  grove, Willow-oak, fobs, rills, riverside's, hilly folk, gravel road and dunn,  Her pleasure, had no end; but I told her Choose the snow shoes; there 're no rules She stayed more days; till the paltry sun begun  To heat up earth, away from odour  Thank she enjoyed; the snow blasts of January.........

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 What If What if you were a God Will you let people grave without food What if you were the earth  Will you love to being destroyed What if you were the sun  Will you wish to be earth burn What if you were a full moon  will you cheer animals bleeding on your day What if you were an animal  Will you joyous to be killed mercilessly  What if you were a river  Will you be merry to lose your aquatic families  What if you were a king  Will you wish calmness during pandemic  What if you were a law making person  Will you make restrictions in religion  What if you were an engineer  Will you love to make weak foundation  What if you were a doctor Will you be glad to fail your operation  What if you were a pencil  Will you enjoy scriping others sadness What if you were a Dustin Will you pleased to accept all the garbage  What if you were a toilet  Will you be delighted to be unflush What if you were a writer...

Sobbing Horse  We have same world to live. Born through same pain. And die in a similar way had same Red blood cells, created by skin and bones  We get ache, we love and feel happy. We eat something to survive as though you. We have family like you. We don't want to lose anyone as if you do. We think exactly as you. Only thing is we cannot talk. But why..?? We are treated as; Only because of two, three months difference..? Human take nine months to give birth  We take eleven to twelve months to give birth. Is that the reason why you treat us.  Because we don't know how to talk..?  Actually we are begging.....  We always talk, get hurts inside. We have all organs inside us same like you. That you never understand. It is because we have four legs and you with two..?? Hope not.  You carry me with a load which is larger than me. It's really difficult for me to tolerate the hurt but then I cannot complain. When I can't walk, you beats me harsh with all your...

 I dream of Utopia:   Webster Dictionary! "A place of ideal perfection expecially in law, government and social conditions! " Tis but a dream... To believe such a place, a state of mind exist. Within an imperfect world we can only strive to make it a better place to live.  Be kind to your neighbors and lend a helping hand!  Stand up for what you believe in and what is right!  Speak out through your words, your poetry.  In a desire to reach within the core of mankind!  Search for the equlity of all man kind!  Don't allow history to repeat itself!   Let's learn from it and move on to a better place!  Placing blame only digs the hole deeper! We can all do our part!  One goal at a time. One day at a time!   What might seem unreachable  helps lead to a better world!  I don't usually get into politics.  But even the air we breathe today is political.   Play the record forward!  Kindness go...

 Life....  Life isn't about fair, it isn't about experience  It is about the secured, trail and purpose  That part of period should not be wasted  Commit mistakes, bar always be optimistic  Do not regret but grasp something  You live a life not to find richness in you  Not to parade your wealth  But of course to aid others Just honor your heart rich, mind prosperous You are always divine, be son of God  Help people, respect nature  And cheer the creatures around you There is no harm in mercy life is surely a zion if you know how to live.                               ......@sangay #23/05/21

https://natella-speranskaya.medium.com/7-reasons-to-become-a-part-of-janus-academy-cdf68e790059 😈 ❝ Говорить об Азсакре — это неизбежно упираться в слова, которые заранее разрушены самим фактом его пребывания здесь; говорить об Азсакре в таком тоне — это обнажать банкротство своей мысли в нелепых нападках на Всё Превзошедшее. Его отличает настолько высокий уровень сознания, что в ближайшие 100-150 лет едва ли появится кто-то, способный стать достойным его собеседником. Это тот уровень, где каждое сказанное слово становится мантрой. В России к его философии ещё не готовы, она внушает людям страх. ❞ ~ Натэлла Сперанская, философ, публицист. Автор книг «Путь к Новой Метафизике», «Дионис преследуемый» и т.д. Автор рецензий на книгу «Acephale. От Диониса Ницше к 'мистерии казни' Батая» и др. P.S. ❝ Ходит стародавнее предание, что царь Мидас долгое время гонялся по лесам за мудрым Силеном, спутником Диониса, и не мог изловить его. Когда тот наконец попал к нему в руки, царь спросил,...

The world is not about what you see, it's all about what you think and how you react towards the nature. And the humans are not the way you think, they are actually the way you see and the way you follow...their paths.... ...........@sangay

You are fairest in your affairs and  it's a fact  And we appreciate; you're quite disparate. When first time; you came up to our sight,  At that time we were, travellers of night,  You've faught a long battle with the knights. In context to liberate the-ackerland  One thing that you did never miss,  "Is waking at first light to kiss the holy book"  We never ever heard from you---the unthankfulness. A fair shape, fancy wear and  hair gray,  Selling flora's upon your little Navis. In happy days of May, a fair trade  You had, you ask none except the Allah. Lo, it was your specific trait, O fair Maid,  And every strarved that pass by your street,  Told us all about your beautiful treat  You're fairest in your affairs and it's a fact-- Aye!  You've costumed  your dog, clean and neat,  That guard's your cabin veiled  by Oak trees, Before you came to the Merry land,  You've dwelth a decard at overseas, Th...

*#PoetrySCS.  #Collaboration of Satish Srivastava and Gelda Castro* *Bubbling words* *-----------------------* Let the words should jump from your mind  Like a waterfall pouring from The top of the source till impregnate the books, Communicating latent life in each one of us. Feel the magic of words Flowing in a rhythmic cadence,  As if they were beads of sweat leaving the pores, Flooding from the skin of a dazzling inspiration Giving life to hidden desires like a cherry tree blooming. Inhalation of its sweet fragrance on the lover lips. Much adorable ink flown  from your pen and it's blown  A thunderstorm in my heart  To share my words from my part . Come on my dear loving friend !  Let's dance together tonight   On the rhythm of flashing light  Created by thy beautiful words bright . Matching step to step and rhythm to rhythm  We shall create our own style,  even in the exile  Following our path behind , the ...

How can you..... How can you forget the day The wink we squander in union  That moment you  Retained with my chum How can you belief that  You left me unassist  When you afore commitment Of vital prior to doom How can you praise yourself  Affirming I was cipher 'cause you When I held my life partially  And furnish my mercy buttress  How can you conceit  Without my abutment  When you pledged me  Endorse us redeem together  How can you move on  When I am seldom capable  When our charity remain always  And I haven't decided to leave.                 ....@sangay

A joy  And at last, from Orient; appear the rising sun That glows with his glory, the high horison. And gentle breeze too depart; to her mission  Over the dunes, coasts, and dales, the florescent-- Though sometimes the cool zephyr, display's anger;  That has a reason, as every action has it's reaction.  Ali ! also rode his horse to relish pasture season, And Killdeer! too set on brooding into bits of rocks.  Song birds happily; left out their resting places  Dawn's flower also did wear new embroiderd cloths,  They had like fairs of fragrence on their sweating faces It's such a drink, that could never be skip by Motes.  Morning star! too ran to his hermitage,  And randy rays of early sun've bewitched, little Rosella ! Grazing goats, from birth she is deprived of parental love. Little sweeties! of Swan hurried to souse the silent canal,  On window pane, the Nachtegaal Initiate to sing " a l'amour in honor of daisy Iris" Dear babe! hear swe...

How can you..... How can you forget the day The wink we squander in union  That moment you  Retained with my chum How can you belief that  You left me unassist  When you afore commitment Of vital prior to doom How can you praise yourself  Affirming I was cipher 'cause you When I held my life partially  And furnish my mercy buttress  How can you conceit  Without my abutment  When you pledged me  Endorse us redeem together  How can you move on  When I am seldom capable  When our charity remain always  And I haven't decided to leave.                 ....@sangay

If you can Advance with the feathery of sun Burnish as glowing as you can  I restraint abide you in a run If you can  Advance through the moon  That amble in every baton And accepting spirit on If you can  Advance with charity sore flame in vein Descant the ballad in strain  I restraint thou's ballad queen If you can  Advance with the rose of garden  Sealing my mercy with the hone That I cease take for the zion If you can  Advance with the cherish of brain  Seldom with the birdbrain  That may animate the relation to drain. If you can  Advance through a croon Be a rhythm of my paean  Treasure me, but don't let me sob a ocean.                                  .........@sangay

A jailed bird  Each night is for Me, a stress and strain  And each day, is like a tempest, please!  Write my story in a poem or  Prose,  Or in haiku, but anyway, write it's thought. Provoking, a harmful psych-emotional assault,  A  disdain, that over years; I do sustain. Should I' shun My holy faith? to displease?  My Lord, the inventer of unseens who knows-- Things at My home; though-a bit off,  'Talk in low tune ' My hearld, there are Owls,  Left to right, more racist, last night,  They threw hungry rats on my roommate-- And bats in My cell, to make me terricfic sick,  My hips and ribs, have burns of cigrattes,  Hurted my elbow, then wrecked my eyeglass,  By hit and kics, they hooked Me into dire fate-- Wait for a while and behold:   'food-stuffs-expiry-date'  I don't like to tell you more,  My harric scene,  That would probably demoralise you,  My host, I pray! you'll never see this di...

It is something that hurts inside when somebody interprets the definition of depression, I can't say you are offences, those people are talking bluff, who knows you might be virtue but little back you should not be the victim of others one day or another. Depression isn't a complication it is a disease. It can be cured and sometimes it cannot. The disease has no age, anyone who is emotional will acquire that disease. But you should remember that it is not a sexual disease. If it was a sexual disease do you think the six years old child will be having sexual desire???  The sixty years old woman will be having sexual desire??  People gossip about depression saying, " Ohh that disease can be rehabilite if he or she obtain marriage". These things are happening more to girls and getting victims. I have some questions to those who think getting married will cure the disease. Will you able to let your daughter who is of six years old marry a man who is of twenty eight years ...

People get married and some of them don't know how to stipulate marriage. Yeah!! it's really difficult to interpret marriage. You are not married with gun point on your head. You prefer your marriage with the person whom you really wanted to spend rest of your living with strong bond. When you first marry, both of you will make a commitment saying I won't leave you alone, feel alone and will be together in any difficulties till the last breathe. All of your companion will wish "Happy Married Life". But you will not know how hard will be your married life.  Before tomorrow people think marrying is something that should be unpretentious and one of the trouble-free work of your life. For those people I think you are having misconcept with the meaning and authority. At home being somebody's wife/husband is a great influence you are taking. Living with someone whom you really love is enjoyable and you are fortunate to have that person but  after marrying that perso...

 Do you want to come my whistful land?  Ah, it's quite far on the giggle Moon,  Escorted by the tall snowy mountains. And neighbours to the joyfull sky. Do you want to come My wistful land?  O! come in the cloving month of May,  Whilst narcissus open her hairs  To kiss of love day, When Demjok would wear her's  wedding band. And the blue joy: celibates his birthday. In sweet early hours of the May. O! if you truly come aye! come by Airway,  Kia! coming here is naught an enfant play. Ame! you've to pass throu cliffs and ridges,  Then by a series of wooden -bridges,  Everything here is cooler; we use not the fridges,  O! my little cottage is situated in this virgin valley,  Where wind blows slowly up the alley.  Forget not our land is famous  for hiking, Go on donkey or with hound to far tramping,  Or you might like to climb the magnetic hills,  Where celestial Music do often thrills,  Upon the breasts of...

I'M Happy To Remain A Butterfly Midnight of my passing years . . . . Did someone knock on the mute shutters or was I scared in a dream? What house of love is this? Such frightening rocks litter its base, its windowpanes already chatter. Perhaps the dread lies inside me more than anywhere out there. My dread of his handsome looks, my awe of his mind, my fear of a dance of wild abandon before his pursuing eyes . . . . Mere covers. I don't wish to say: "There he is." Why should I lose what years have gained: my life of freedom, my free mind? I know if I ever fell into his hands he'd swiftly turn me into a housefly. Confined to the walls of his desires, I'd forget I had ever known the joys of light, breeze and perfume. Yes, I'm happy to remain a butterfly: though life's needs conspire against me at least my wings are still intact.

 left except this golden heart. Nothing left Nothing left To give you as a gift of love Except this diamond heart That can shine in your murky way. The blood stream has been poisoned. My head has been turned to barren The flesh has been cut a hundred times. All are broken in course of time as pieces of glasses. This heart only l spare for you. Take it as my gift of loving and caring you. Let it saves a thousand cells of you. Let it heals a hundred broken parts of you. Let it shines as your midnight lamp in trouble. Grap it softly and lovingly. It will never be broken Though the hull of skin and bone turned to ashes. Nothing left nothing left To give you as my special gift for love Except this golden heart. Take it keep secret next to your soul. It will bring you holy water From rivers of heaven. It will shower in your garden of life. It will beats in rhythm As the best symphony eternal.

The bulbul's care is naught but the rose is his mate dear The rose's care is naught but to bring grace to her cheer  Not all lure is what brings the lover's heart to its fall Master is he who bears compassion to his thrall. Now comes the time when blood gushes into the ruby's heart For the shard hath shattered its value and worth in the mart. The bulbul's power of speech came from the rose's boon  Or his beak would be devoid of all this song and tune O thou who in the street of our Love tread Be careful; or his wall may shatter thy head The traveler is accompanied by a hundredfold soul Wherever he is, health and well-being be his dole O heart! Though the dice of health to thee was cast Sweet is the lot of Love. Cling to it hard and fast Intoxicated, the Sufi wore his hat askew Two more goglets, aslant his turban flew To the sight of thee the heart of Hafiz had been inclined It is now cherished with union. Put this torment behind. ------A translate version  Poet:...

Where did the handsome beloved go?” BY  JALAL AL-DIN RUMI TRANSLATED BY  BRAD GOOCH  AND  MARYAM MORTAZ Where did the handsome beloved go? I wonder, where did that tall, shapely cypress tree go? He spread his light among us like a candle. Where did he go? So strange, where did he go without me? All day long my heart trembles like a leaf. All alone at midnight, where did that beloved go? Go to the road, and ask any passing traveler —  That soul-stirring companion, where did he go? Go to the garden, and ask the gardener —  That tall, shapely rose stem, where did he go? Go to the rooftop, and ask the watchman —  That unique sultan, where did he go? Like a madman, I search in the meadows! That deer in the meadows, where did he go? My tearful eyes overflow like a river —  That pearl in the vast sea, where did he go? All night long, I implore both moon and Venus —  That lovely face, like a moon, where did he go? If he is mine, why is he with others? Since he’s not here, to...

When I do look on my own lame fate,  Then your beguiling desires blue in shape And I do fear; might fell to some evil fame,  That people hate, believe or not My playmate !  As I have in Me two world's to lead  One is this tummy: and next the timeless. Throu mist, haze and murkiness  I've to tread, With long, tussle, quest and then the grim silence. In Me you behold; the twlight of dawn,  Or like a plum island; that beguile you Since a quite long time, like a young fawn, Roaming aimless in fond of love or  Something more than it, lush lush .... When I do see my own lame fate, it was loveless.....

Escape! I hear a voice saying: escape And leave this English isle behind You belong to nothing except this ornate radio Except the coffee pot Except the garden trees outlined against the silky sky I hear voices speaking in languages I know And others I don’t: Escape And leave behind the dilapidated red buses The rusty train tracks This nation obsessed with morning work This family which hangs a picture of capitalism in the living room as if it were its ancestor Escape from this isle There are only windows behind you Windows as far as you can see  Windows in daylight Windows at night Dull aspects for brightly-lit pain Brightly-lit aspects for dull pain And you hear the voices: escape In all the city’s languages, residents are fleeing from their childhood dreams From the scars of colonies that turned to cold signatures as their authors died Those escaping have forgotten what they escaped from, too cowardly now to cross the street They gather all their cowardice and scream...

kuchh to hawa bhi sard thi kuchh tha tera KHayal bhi PARVEEN SHAKIR 3.2K kuchh to havā bhī sard thī kuchh thā tirā ḳhayāl bhī dil ko ḳhushī ke saath saath hotā rahā malāl bhī baat vo aadhī raat kī raat vo puure chāñd kī chāñd bhī ain chait kā us pe tirā jamāl bhī sab se nazar bachā ke vo mujh ko kuchh aise dekhtā ek dafa to ruk ga.ī gardish-e-māh-o-sāl bhī dil to chamak sakegā kyā phir bhī tarāsh ke dekh leñ shīsha-girān-e-shahr ke haath kā ye kamāl bhī us ko na pā sake the jab dil kā ajiib haal thā ab jo palaT ke dekhiye baat thī kuchh muhāl bhī merī talab thā ek shaḳhs vo jo nahīñ milā to phir haath duā se yuuñ girā bhuul gayā savāl bhī us kī suḳhan-tarāziyāñ mere liye bhī Dhaal thiiñ us kī hañsī meñ chhup gayā apne ġhamoñ kā haal bhī gaah qarīb-e-shah-rag gaah ba.īd-e-vahm-o-ḳhvāb us kī rafāqatoñ meñ raat hijr bhī thā visāl bhī us ke hī bāzuoñ meñ aur us ko hī sochte rahe jism kī ḳhvāhishoñ pe the ruuh ke aur jaal bhī shaam kī nā-samajh havā pūchh rahī hai ik patā mauj-e...

 https://sufipoetry.wordpress.com Bulleh Shah | Sufi Poetry

Nature is a beautiful gift of the almighty and Gulmarg is a perfect example of that! Did you hear about it? If not then you, my friend, are missing out on life itself. Nestled in the vicinity of the Himalayan state of  Jammu  &  Kashmir , lies a beautiful bequest of the glory of mother nature, Gulmarg! Thi quaint little place serves as a perfect recluse to both the adventurous and the peaceful. Such is its beauty! The small town called Gulmarg is located in the Pin Panjal range of the gargantuan Himalayan mountains. The eloquent name was preceded by the term called Gauri Marg, derived from the term “Gouri Marg” which means the path of “Devi Gauri”, the local deity. It is a must for any mountain lover to visit this place once, check out the top places to visit in Gulmarg, bask in its pleasant Himalayan weather, or embark on adventures across its wilderness. It has a rich history and is a significant mark stone in the collective history of India. It has seen wars waged ...

As early sunshine covered up the wider garden,  The sight swell buzzing by  echo sounds of purple martin,  The green leafs lulled,  bunchs of red cherry,  Each pair lure like ringlet of lady regent,  Who might've recently marry,  And purple colours gathered the scenes down,  Over daintly shoulders of garden, Spring flowers brought the holy shine,  Each flower that embroidery wears,  Smiled profond,  From the side of glory hill,  The flying birds did shrill,  Happy gaotha hosted a music concert,  A harmony of love drill,  In the cherry villa,  Amabilia: the scene become so amusing,  As a newly wedded maid set on swinger;  While the shrine bell ring,  The starling set forth to sing,  Sea gull too cut short his beach sleep to,  Ward his mistress  Sitting brooding in windy walls of cherry villa.

Moon is broken like pennant of a widow,  Every star friendless sunk into thoughts,  Very tired laying restless on the pillow- Clouds of grief stay like a funeral-  Some teeny O many heavy all endless- On music of hiccups the heart weeps- Stuck into swallowing deeps-  I've not resting place-ravaged- No loyalty or security just am a savage,  A tearful life my fate gave me-displeasure. Go away O winds Take your passage-  Its my fate to put to scream my soul-  Life came up weeping-dolorous,  From my grief these're naught  The flowers, they're the wounds-  My shadow itself split from me-  I' m lonely in festival of griefs- Thus! mine life is  A gray falling leaf-

A moony beam into an old stream-  A maiden swan dances into waters Sweet tune- An eagle sailed to lonely lands- A spring dove sings,  Through the thickets of rosewood- And later moon shines lovely brimful. Recalling me my freest moments of babyhood. Be not pitiless but befriends with me,  Sing all! As long as you're with me,  I feel sorrow free...

A million stars, shimmering in the blue Sky,  Have hidden stories: the sun and Moon and Nine--stars,  Fell in prostration before: Joseph!  the Young guy--- Terrified by his brother's,  He survived into Spring;  Joseph (yousef)  told to Jacob;  behind the bars. Old gray haired, Father struck by grief, raised his hand to the Sky--- ---And conveyed thanks to Lord:  as his Child was pursued by  'Throne of Egypt ' that was run by--  Pharaoh! the former Regent followed him,  Then one eye blind father,  received his sight, that Night--- And divine wind, honored the Golden crown to Joseph!  By dawn the raising star of twlight--- Raised high, upon the Egyptian sky,  And created a hustle and bustle into Nile's motion--- Ahh! humming birds! sung the loving words-- to Joseph,  His old father and Lord  in their devotion----

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Beautifull poem by Poetess  ---- Sangay

If you're with Me ! the life might become a heaven and all suffers will vanish. And these short moments of summer would turn greenish---  If you're a cause of my suffer Then there would be no suffer in life--- If you're with Me ! You forehead makes the spring season sweet, And there is nothing more then your eyes in life--- If you're with Me ! I shall make an offer; if you accept tweet  Me and I shall make  A garland of roses to greet  you--- If you're with Me ! Mine destiny will  will smile for ever and ever--- If you're with Me ! Our heart's will flourish  As like sweet voices of fowls  If you're with Me-- If you're with Me--

She the Fatima, always drew you in her soul, Throu her unique ways, and aye,hosted you Closer as an infant; in her wedding shawl.  She a lady of lofty falls, played bare in blue Nights and sleep lately,as candles kept burning, And life's pleasent journey end in blights. Ahh, the Lady, was fond of black sandals, a turning Came when kids received their wits; then bites Befell, in that vineyard of sweet loves, And doctor aforesaid; It's a kind of hysterics O love! no-no, it was your love towards-kids, In latter,years of life those sweet burns, came to light,  Blessful Lady!  "had you lived few years more" Overhere are the beetles;  new things, this the truth is----