When your love isn’t returned,
a story starts.
You are sad,
you are feeling pains,
you are crying,
your heart is on fire,
and the fire then becomes a source of light,
light that inspires you to express your pains,
your feelings and emotions.
The artist then paints his best painting,
the musician composes his lovely tune,
the singer sings his best song,
and the poet writes a poem,
a work of art!
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بھیگی سی ایک شام ہے اور دل اداس ہے
اب کیا بجھے گی اور بڑھے گی یہ تشنگیہونا تو کچھ ہے أج اگر اتنی پیاس ہےیہ کیا ہوا کہ یاس کا بدلا مزاج ہےجانے کہاں سے دل نے چرا لی یہ أس ہےہم کیا کریں جو یہ نہیں مانے کسی کی باتہم کیسے مان لیں کہ کوئی اور اداس ہےدن ڈھل گیا ہے کوئی…
The face is hidden but the hand is supporting you,
no, you cant, let me read it for you,The lines say I love you my grandchildren,and I pray one day you may return this support,this selfless love and this hospitality,to your loving grandchildren,I shall watch how you treat your grandchildren,from high skies,I am hopeful, the way you are supporting your younger sister,with an amazing smile…
صوفی ہوں فرشتے ہوں یا معصوم نبی ہوں
لذت کا شناسا ہوں گنہ گار ہوں پِھر بھیاے برہمی یار سزاوار ہوں پِھر بھیدامن میں کئی داغ ہیں ایک داغ ہے ایساقطرہ میری آنكھوں سے کوئی ٹپکا ہے ایساشائد میرے سینے میں ہے اب بھی کوئی شادابمُرجھا نہیں سکتا ہے یہ دنیا میں ہے نایابلایا ہوں مدینہ سے تو رکھا ہے چھپا کرروشن یہ…
She started writing poems,
I know only one thing about her,She is just seventeen.And a college student.Probably she has none,Who can listen to the voice,Of her broken heart.Being deceived in love,The strains of her feelings,Burst out like streams,In pretty nice poems.Like the violent waves,Of a hot stream,I see tear in her eyes,I feel pain of her heart.Like the dry…
At the age of only five or six years
during the first war of independence in 1857.I suppose her age was more than hundred yearsin the early fifties of the last century.She narrated a few painful stories.What happened to the fighters of freedomand how cruelly the British Imperialistshanged them by neck till death on the tall trees.But no woman was raped and no child…
Who says do not love your color,
keeping your color intact,why don’t you spread lovely colors of your pink existence?Why don’t you become yourself colorful first,and leave no alternate for others,but to be wet in the rainbow of your nice colors?Your ego can provide the appealing colors.One day give sleeping pills to your ego,give an opportunity to the superego,to add the scents…
When your love isn’t returned,
a story starts.
You are sad,
you are feeling pains,
you are crying,
your heart is on fire,
and the fire then becomes a source of light,
light that inspires you to express your pains,
your feelings and emotions.
The artist then paints his best painting,
the musician composes his lovely tune,
the singer sings his best song,
and the poet writes a poem,
a work of art!
Similar Posts
Rhyming I see you.
soul’s beauty in your fragranceecstatic I see the whole world is.Make it upall that I see is ugly,rusted beliefs,ideologies stale,evolutionary are your revolutionary rhymes.Join the whole worldEurope, Africa, AustraliaAmerica and Asia.Nightingales everywhere will sing for you.And I see your poems are erasingugliness of hateselfish nationalismterror and proxy wars.Insight of a poetess like youneeds the whole…
Beautiful photographs of nature,
meaningful poems of the famous poets,touching tunes and melodious songs,on a website of social contacts,your posts are like a bouquet of flowers.Your posts are rainbows of so many shocking colors.Your posts are the cloudsthat come and go with the windswithout the showers.Everyday I look for you in your postsI like these beautiful flowers of colorful…
The spirit that brings one in a battlefield,
Battles may be won, battles may be lost,Wait for tomorrow, the stones will be shaken,The descendants inherit neither a victory nor the defeat,They inherit this abstract spirit and make it concrete.The stones will be changed in peaceful loving hearts,The enemies of peace will become its best friends,When battles are modified in struggles of love,These are…
I was sleeping in the womb of a seed,
I never knew what’s going on outside,A turnout as beauty, dreaming inside,I never knew what I shall have to face,Hot sun, hard soil, for a mortal glace,Never knew the glittering worldly gains,Are charms of few days that end in pains.I never knew it was better for me,Breathing as an embryo and not to be,Colors and…
Why don’t you remember?
Music of September,I still retain.We met in the greenery,A wet, lovely scenery,A teen age romance,The music and dance.Why don’t you remember?Remember again,Magic of September,Shy enough to refrain.Love at first sight,In a moonlit night,Fragrance of white flowers,And the mild rain showers.Why don’t you remember?Remember again,Picnic of September,A love to remain.The maiden kiss,The beautiful bliss.A lasting joy,Not…
I am waiting for her,
he is waiting for her,thousands of years gone in waitingfor a miraculous doll,who is in all of us,broken in pieces,a doll in coma,silently sleeping and dreaming,a day when lovers of the doll hug each other,for a miracle that joins its broken pieces,the colorful doll twists her body,awakes and opens her eyes,her breaths we all feel,her…