Forever Sonnets (Poetry Blog)

Shalimar city park where we walk with our kids On its stone walls we do see images  Of hart of doe and fawns giving cheers to visiters  These antique animals dwell in these bushes throu dim ages Shalimar is a prettiest place where oak grows Parallel to parallel along great maples,  By it's eastward, the smoke blows over high hill's, And myth makers invent their own stories  Which never really exist .... But brings a momentary joy in ears of listeners  They do paint these stories with their lovely colors..... I had an opportunity to live with rustic dweller's Their femmes love to cook in azure esman The wood they use is free for them ...."Stella says "A very kind yoaman is in charge of kingdom of green oaks" In rainy days these green woods seem so awesome, When ligera breeze hails for hikking with her sweet notes.  And Stella smokes! before her fire pot no one.  Can dare to harass her, when her hound is by her side. And her pretty pair of pashma go...

Dwelling  A vinary! among the flames of marvel  My heart is unquite can take any shape.  The place I dwell and dwelling has become harsher..... A meadow of deers  A monastery of monks  A movement of merchants  A wilderness of wander lusts. I accept only a religion of love Where ever the caravan of love turns,  That's the belief; that's the faith  That's the path I do keep.

A half-witted I was to sleep at spring time  In walnut tree; when wind was sweet and cool. In asleep My lily hands have been tied  And was made to drink an unsweetened fruit.  A half-witted I'm, some savage; entered my hortus. And stealth my chameli; when  I was in asleep. Mouth sealed off; a hesitant to fight back. This a melancholy; that struck me deep. No more smile; no more time to play with Moon A half-witted, I was to sleep at spring- Tide, now scary-scary;  I set alone  Recalling the days of chameli; at evening--

Ah, the heavenly breeze sailed to splendid site  Surrounded by high hills each rock is a masterpiece That swells my heart with joy and delight  Shall I ever come across such a lasting peace? The mellow Moon is gleaning woods with mystic light  Tonight it's silence; I hear not any echo boom, But a waters musical tune is constant- In its rhythm, the aroma of wild herbs  Are chasing the corrosponding breeze.  As soon the night goes deeper  I hear reciter's,  Sweet voices of feens singing chorus of their own, While I sat with notebook and lovely mate, The sky is dome, the earth is our state. The green grass gowing vast feels like paradise; Two forest hounds; also sat nearby hours straight  Like guards sent for us to sheild in green wood.  There is nothing like social status and prejudice, A pillow on which we lay is like clean wool Crafted by feen's with their fairest fingers. It's Allah's mircle with bricks of wine  He build th...

aap kī yaad aatī rahī raat bhar'' chāñdnī dil dukhātī rahī raat bhar gaah jaltī huī gaah bujhtī huī sham-e-ġham jhilmilātī rahī raat bhar koī ḳhushbū badaltī rahī pairahan koī tasvīr gaatī rahī raat bhar phir sabā sāya-e-shāḳh-e-gul ke tale koī qissa sunātī rahī raat bhar jo na aayā use koī zanjīr-e-dar har sadā par bulātī rahī raat bhar ek ummīd se dil bahaltā rahā ik tamannā satātī rahī raat bhar

Da mi je Bese to davno kad upih duboko Svako slovo, skladan i jasan svaki stih Cistotom ljepote sto opija i nosi Opjevat misli pozeljeh, o, tako rado bih. Cudakom me smatrase pa i za ludu Cesto cuh, gubis vrijeme u stihu nesuvislu Nista od toga, ni slave ni hleba Ne odoljeh sebi, pisah jer dusa trazi i treba. Nije mi dano da kiti me slava, al srcem pisem Kako disem, sto udahnem to i izdahnem Mnogi su gori postali pjesnici strascu uprti Mozda ce mene kao i njega citati mnogi poslije smrti. Dani mi camotni, sanjam,sve lako upija papir Olaksava dusu, srce poleti a ruka sama pise U casu prevrtljivom bludim postajem ljubavnik i satir Tuga i sjeta me nose, nemir raste i uzdise. Mozda nekad, nekome uljepsam trenutke mladosti Poleti visoko uz pjesmu u plave visine Ako vec plakati treba, neka to bude od radosti Slavom se sreca ne mjeri, u ljubavi su puti istine. 28. July, 2021. Melbourne, Victoria

#pearlofheaven Sweet is the breeze that blows before My face Will blow further more beneath the heaven. Over hills by rural miles; then would return to My place, Along it is luxurance, the change the season. Sweet is the breath of morn; My beloved sweet  The melodies of fowls pleases the garden. Despite these bounties, who mislead us; so young ? Like a farmer, He stocks up enough fodder. And keeps everything in order clean and so neat, Solemn sun, treat the life better and keep, Regard of little olive dun, let not die her by cyclone hit,  O pearl of heaven, hold that promise, that we've thrown out..... #poemhunterdotcom