Yaad…

This is something I found somewhere on the net. The person who has written it was not specified there. However their is something in this poetry that gives way to some pain hidden inside. To all those who have drank the bitter cup of wine only to find a lifetime of unrest. Here it goes:

Jo bhi dukh yaad na tha yaad aayaa,

Aaj kyaa jaaniye kyaa yaad aayaa

Fir koi haath hai dil par jaise,

Fir teraa ahd-e-vafaa yaad aayaa

Jis tarah dhund mein lipte hue phool,

Ek ek naqsh teraa yaad aayaa

Aisii majboorii ke aalam mein koi,

Yaad aayaa bhi to kyaa yaad aayaa

Yaad aaya tha bichadna tera,

Fir nahiin yaad ke kya yaad aayaa…

Daisy

This is one of my favourite poems. I hope you all like it -

Where the thistle lifts a purple crown

Six foot out of the turf,

And the harebell shakes on the windy hill–

O breath of the distant surf! –

The hills look over on the South,

And southward dreams the sea;

And with the sea breeze hand in hand

Came innocence and she.

Where ‘mid the gorse the raspberry

Red for the gatherer springs;

Two children did we stray and talk

Wise, idle, childish things.

She listened with big-lipped surprise,

Breast-deep ‘mid flower and spine:

Her skin was like a grape whose veins

Run snow instead of wine.

She knew not those sweet words she spake,

Nor knew her own sweet way;

But there’s never a bird, so sweet a song

Thronged in whose throat all day.

To the Rival

Hey everyone. As i read more and more of Faiz’s poetry my fondness for him grows. I will be putting up some of him poems on this blog that I get the good pleasure to read now and then. I hope you like them. Your precious thoughts are welcome as usual.

Come, for memories are linked with you of that beauty

Who turned this heart into a fairy house,

In attachment to whom I had forgotten the world,

I had turned the age into a fable of age.

Familiar with your steps are those paths on which

Her intoxicated youth bestowed itself,

By which the caravans of her charms have passed

That these eyes profitlessly adored.

With you have played those beloved breezes in which

The faded scent of her dress remains;

On you too has rained from that roof the light of the moon

In which the pain of bygone nights remains.

You have seen that forehead, that cheek, that lip,

In contemplation of which I squandered existence;

On you have been raised those lost in thought magical eyes;

To you is known why I wasted life.

A White Rose

The red rose whispers of passion,

And the white rose breathes of love;

O, the red rose is a falcon,

And the white rose is a dove.

But I send you a cream white rosebud

With a flush on its petal tips;

For the love that is the purest and sweetest

Has a kiss of desire on the lips..

Cynara

I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,

Flung roses, roses, riotously, with the throng,

Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;

But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,

Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:

I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

—— Ernest Dowson

Lady, why you love me…

I have always been perplexed as to why you women fall in love with us, men. If you think of it, it is crazy! Women are the God’s most wonderful creation. You are the beautiful one, the one through which life sprouts. You are deep as an ocean and calm even in the face of disaster. You are innocent and pure and always ready to smile even when the world is against you. You are gentle in manner and stern in action. And still you fall in love with us: stupid, half angry half confused, irritable, indecisive MEN.

There has to be something really crazy going on in your minds girls! How can you fall in love with someone who criticizes everything from the way you tie your hair, to the size of your handbags and the things you carry in it to the wildly colorful collection of fancy footwear that you have! And then he tells you that YOU NAG! Seriously, had I been a woman I would have never put up with the antics of a dysfunctional and bizarre creature called MAN. It is impossible to comprehend what power in the whole wide universe makes you love and gives you the strength to keep on trying to make us better. I doubt any of the women folks know either. At least the one that wrote the following did not know-

And yet I love this false, this worthless man,
With all the passion that a woman can;
Dote on his imperfections, though I spy
Nothing to love; I love, and know not why.
- Ephelia fl.
‘Female Poems’ (1679) ‘To one that asked me why I loved J.G.’

Well, all I can do is to thank you for believing in our dreams. I must tell you that your belief in us gives us the courage to carry on following our dreams to achieve a better life. It is because of your faith that the world breathes and progresses.