zeeshanr Poetry (45)

Awesome Story Must Read. . . .

Husband comes home drunk and breaks some crockery,
vomits and falls down on the floor...
Wife pulls him up and cleans everything.

Next day wen he gets up he expects her to be really angry wid him....
He prays that they should not have a
fight..

He finds a note near the table...

"Honey..your favorite breakfast is ready on the table,
i had to leave early to buy grocery...
i'll come running back to you, my love.
I love you. "

He gets surprised and asks his son..,

'what happened last night..?

Son told...

"when mom pulled you to bed and tried removing your boots and shirt..you were dead drunk and you said......

"Hey Lady! Leave Me Alone...I am Married !!!..."

That's True Love...

People say they love rain
but when rain start
they use an umbrella

People say they love the sun,
but when sun shine
they search for shade

People say they love the wind
but when the wind blows
they close their windows

That,s why i just
smile when
people say

They love me.

Tonight I ask the stars above,
How I'll ever win your love,
What do I do,
What do I say,
To turn your angel eyes my way?


We've known each other,
For a long long time,
But I never really noticed,
All the magic in your eyes,
I've been around you,
A thousand times before,
And you've always been a friend to me,
But now I'm wanting more

So, I will stand here forever,
If forever's what it takes,
because you are my forever,
and forever always waits.

With the start of each new day
I find myself thinking of you

In the middle of my busy day
My mind wanders and i think of you

Out of nowhere i see your smile
hear your laugh and i think of you

Life is beautiful new because i fall in love
allover again each line i think of you.

You who demolish me, you whom I love,
be near me. Remain near me when evening,
drunk on the blood of skies,
becomes night, in the other
a sword sheathed in the diamond of stars.
Be near me when night laments or sings,
or when it begins to dance,
its stell-blue anklets ringing with grief.
Be here when longings, long submerged
in the heart’s waters, resurface
and everyone begins to look:
Where is the assasin? In whose sleeve
is hidden the redeeming knife?
And when wine, as it is poured, is the sobbing
of children whom nothing will console–
when nothing holds,
when nothing is:
at that dark hour when night mourns,
be near me, my destroyer, my lover me,
be near me.

Again the sun returns, bathing the world in its journey,
Again the morning light goes hand in glove with the sky.
Again the fire roars in every merry song,
Again the flames leap from every weeping eye.
Again a madman leaves, having set fire to his house
And every path says something to every passer by.
That colour is implicated in the garden’s very air,
Obscured the prison walls from the limits of the eye.
The glasses will rattle, whether the liquor flows or not
The clouds will thunder, whether it rains or stays dry.
Don’t worry about shoes now, better look to your turban
This wave that laps at your feet will soon be head high.

Each star a rung,
night comes down the spiral
staircase of the evening.
The breeze passes by so very close
as if someone just happened to speak of love.
In the courtyard,
the trees are absorbed refugees
embroidering maps of return on the sky.
On the roof,
the moon - lovingly, generously -
is turning the stars
into a dust of sheen.
From every corner, dark-green shadows,
in ripples, come towards me.
At any moment they may break over me,
like the waves of pain each time I remember
this separation from my lover.
This thought keeps consoling me:
though tyrants may command that lamps be smashed
in rooms where lovers are destined to meet,
they cannot snuff out the moon, so today,
nor tomorrow, no tyranny will succeed,
no poison of torture make me bitter,
if just one evening in prison
can be so strangely sweet,
if just one moment anywhere on this earth.

If I were certain of this, my helpmate, my friend
If I could be certain that the weariness of your heart
The sadness of your eyes, the fever in your breast
Would be erased by my consoling, my love
If my reassuring words were the cure by which
Your empty, lampless brain should rise again
Your forehead be washed clean of these stains of humiliation
Your feverish youth be healed
If I were certain of this, my helpmate, my friend
Day and night, dusk and dawn I would comfort you
I would sing light-hearted sweet songs to you
Songs of waterfalls, of springs, of meadows
Songs of dawn, of moonlight, of planets
I would tell stories of beauty and devotion
How the ice-like bodies of proud beauties
Melt in the passion of warm hands
How one's once fixed familiar face
Upon gazing on it unexpectedly changes
How the transparent crystal of the beloved's cheek
Suddenly goes aflame from a ruby red glow
Or the way a rose bows herself before its plucker
Or the way the expanse of night is fragrant
I would keep singing, keep singing for your sake
I would keep weaving melodies while sitting, for your sake
But my songs are not the elixir to your sorrows
Melody is no surgeon, be it consoling and sympathetic
Nor is it a lancet, be it a balm for illness
There is no escape for your illness, save for the lancet
And this murderer-messiah is not in my possession
Nor is it in that of any living soul in this world
Yes! except for you, yourself, yourself.

How long was that night of separation’s agony!
With all my trust in that promise by you
I swallowed the night’s bitterness, my dear love,
My dear! O’ my true beloved!
With all my trust in that promise by you
I tinkled the chains as if they were cymbals,
Sometimes I put on the links as my ear-rings,*
At others I assumed that the fetters were my anklets.
For my love for you I offered the flesh from my body, **
With ravens, as the messengers, I sent you my call.
‘This night soon ends, my Love shall then some."
I looked at the pathway, time and again.
None arrived, except the people with jeers,
Nothing came, but a downpour of scorn.
Today you must rebuke these scoffs, my darling;
Come to my home, my long-separated beloved.
When the dawn arises I yearn to exclaim:
"Thanks goodness, joy has come to my home again!"
"The darling whose promise I trusted without sway,
That darling, also, kept the promise all the way."

Today, again,
On the string spun from grief and pain,
I threaded blossoms; drawn from your memory.
And I plucked,
From the desert of abandoned love,
Buds which bloomed; when we were together.
Then,
I placed on your doorsteps,
Offering to the days of your memory.
Laid,
Side by side, in the vase called Desire,
The ashes of separation, the blossoms from our love.

Bring the flowers to bloom, let the spring breeze blow.
Come my love and rouse the garden from its sleep.
Gloom pervades the prison say something to the breeze.
Someone for God's sake should talk about my love.
Sometime at least the sun should rise from the corner of your lips.
Sometime at least the night should flow from your scented locks.
Strong is the link of grief no matter if the heart is poor.
Sorrowing hearts will flocking come, once they hear your name.
How I fared matters not but O lonesome night
My tears have ensured your peace here and beyond.
My heart Zeeshan could not approve any place en route.
Forced out of my love's street, I made for the gallows straight.

My heart, my fellow traveller
It has been decreed again
That you and I be exiled,
go calling out in every street,
turn to every town.
To search for a clue
of a messenger from our Beloved.
To ask every stranger
the way back to our home.
In this town of unfamiliar folk
we drudge the day into the night
Talk to this stranger at times,
to that one at others.
How can I convey to you, my friend
how horrible is a night of lonliness *
It would suffice to me
if there were just some count
I would gladly welcome death
if it were to come but once.