Every normal person

Every normal person
Every normal person has 72 heart beats, but for myself its 73. the extra 1 is ur smile. So don’t stop ur smile, it will affect my heart.. Keep Smiling
  

Jun, 17 2010     150 chars (1 sms)     2958 views       English Poetry

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Why

Oh God, one cannot argue with you, but,
why did you throw us in the fire of love?

You formed us with your power, and water and clay.
Why did you create the moon-like beauties?

You made eyebrows into pens, and locks of hair into lassos.
You made sugar-water limpid from sweet lips.

If you wanted me not to become afflicted and degraded,
why did you create lovesick girls?

If you wanted submission and prayers,
you would not have given beauties coquetry and coyness.

If false love is a sin,
why did you make drunkard eyes drunk?
Today when I signed online,
I was happy and pleased to see.
That in my incoming mail,
Was a letter from you to me.
I love the mails you send me
And all of the giggles too!
But the biggest thrill of all,
Was seeing it came from you.
Now we don''t talk that much
So letters and cards say it all.
But I want you to know they''re special
No matter how big or small.
So keep the e-mail coming
I love it ever so much.
And know its really appreciated,
Whenever you keep in touch!
Miss U
For you I would climb
The highest mountain peak
Swim the deepest ocean
Your love I do seek.

For you I would cross
The rivers most wide
Walk the hottest desert sand
To have you by my side.

For you are the one
Who makes me whole
You''ve captured my heart
And touched my soul.

For you are the one
That stepped out of my dreams
Gave me new hope
Showed me what love means.

For you alone
Are my reason to live
For the compassion you show
And the care that you give.

You came into my life
And made me complete
Each time I see you
My heart skips a beat.

For you define beauty
In both body and mind
Your soft, gentle face
More beauty I''ll ne''er find.
The waves beside them danced, but they

....Out-did the sparkling waves in glee;

A poet could not but be gay,

...In such a jocund company:

I gazed--and gazed--but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:



For oft, when on my couch I lie

...In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

...Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
MoM I LoVe YoU



Growing up you were so dear,
things to me you made so clear.
You clothed me with things to wear,
comfort you gave through the years.

Mother your love is sincere,
you taught me how to persevere.
To me now they do adhere,
no punishment too severe.

Mom I love you, never to stray,
I have taken in your loving way.
I bless you mother as I pray
SmiLiNg Is NoT My ReAliTy,
ThIs Is HoW I PrEtEnD To Be,
By NiGhT I CrY MySeLf To SlEeP,
WiD My GoD FrOwNiNg At Me,
DrOwnInG In A FlOoD Of TeArS,
BuT TeArs Are My DeStInY,
My ViSiOn A BlUr As I FuLLFiLL,
AnD ThIs Is HoW I MeAnT To Be,
My LiFe UnWoRthY,
My SelF To KiLL,
ExIsTeNcE A ToRtUrE I MuSt EnDurE,
As U RegArDeD SuiCiDe As SiN,
I M NoT AgAiNsT U My HeArt Is PuRe,
FaTe Is MoCkInG WiTh An EviL GriN,
SuRrOuNDeD In A BlAcK NeSs So DeEp,
I WaLk,I SeE But SuRvIvE No MoRe,
I M DeAd InSiDe,
In DaRkNeSs WeEp,
YoU KnoW I LoVe U,
LIkE EvEr BeFoRe,
FoRgIvE Me As In My GrAvE I LaY,
FrEe Me oF ThiS PaIn AnD LeT Me DiE,
I JuSt CaNT BaRe It AnY MoRe:''(
Who Is Here? Who Is There?

In the Garden, when the autumn wind blows,
In the bird’s voice there is wailing and lamentation.

In the lovesick nightingale’s song there is a call,
with a different effect, a different mark.

Still, the nightingale is yearning for the love of the flower.
Still, the salamander is nesting in the oven.

Still, Mansur is hanging on the gallows.
He says: “I’m the Truth,” yet the secret (truth) is hidden.

Still, Zulaykha is not afraid of rebuke.
Still, Yusuf is evading Zulaykha.

Still, the Christian maiden is breaching Sheikh San’an''s faith.
Still, the Sheikh is tending her swine.
The sparkle in your eye,
The warmth of your skin.
Your breath on my neck,
That quivers within.

The touch of your hand,
The smell of your hair.
The kindness in your smile,
That strength in your stare.

Your kiss on my lips,
Your body near mine.
The stroke of your touch,
That feeling inside.

The sound of your voice,
Compassion in your embrace.
The serenity in your stride,
The power in your face.

The calming of your presence,
The beating of your heart.
The promise of tomorrow,
That we may never part.

The beauty of your kiss,
and that magic in your touch.
It is for all these reasons and more,
Why I love you so much.
On occasion we wonder what our purpose in life is,

We don’t listen to our inner voice, ignoring his.

Something inside propels us to act,

Yet we often fail to recognize it and simply don’t react.

Perhaps we have known all along,

But we are too afraid that we could be wrong.

We must take a chance on our given talent,

Each and every one of us can be valiant.

If we veer off track,

Something inside will pull us back.

Maybe it could be we are being tested,

So when our individual purpose becomes clear, it is not ignored or rejected.
LOVE & ROMANCE





LOVE is any of a number of emotions and experiences related to a sense of strong affection or profound oneness. Depending on context, love can have a wide variety of intended meanings. Romanticlove is seen as a deep, ineffable feeling of intense and tender attraction shared in passionate or intimate attraction and intimate interpersonal and sexual relationships. Love can also be conceived of as Platonic love, religious love, familial love, and, more casually, great affection for anything considered strongly pleasurable, desirable, or preferred, including activities and foods. This diverse range of meanings in the singular wordlove is often contrasted with the plurality of Greek words for love, reflecting the concept''s depth, versatility, and complexity.
some say love it is a river,
that drowns the tender reed.
some say love it is a razor,
that leaves ur soul to bleed.
some say love it is a hunger,
an endless aching need.
BUT !!
i say love it is a flower,
n u r its only seed.