poetry

Who Are We?

Who are we in this complicated world?

if we come to sleep
we are His drowsy ones.

and if we come to wake
we are in His hands.

if we come to weeping,
we are His cloud full of raindrops.

and if we come to laughing,
we are His lightning in that moment.

if we come to anger and battle,
it is the reflection of His wrath.

and if we come to peace and pardon,
it is the reflection of His love.

Who are we in this complicated world?

– Rumi

Never Fall In Love With a Poet

never fall in love with a poet

Never fall in love with a poet
For he will immortalize you with his words
Of all the people that you will meet in your lifetime
Not one will look at you like he will
He will cherish every moment, treasure every smile of yours
That sparkle in your eyes, the color of your fingernails
The way you tuck hair behind that ear
Those moments when you don’t blink
He will use them as fuel to stop time
As he inscribes you down with every keystroke
Never fall in love with a poet
For he will paint you everyday
Carving your face with his words on that paper
You will live a thousand lives in those poems
Every rep with the weights
Each click
He will think of you
Never fall in love with a poet
Because if it all goes south for him
He will fight battles within himself
Plundering down those walls, retaliating
All those thoughts
All those roads
That say no to you
He will gaze upon you from afar
Like an artist’s smitten peek at a masterpiece
Like a flower which is admired but not touched
Never fall in love with a poet
Because through black of days, dark of night
Untimely winters, those faceless springs
He will constrain his heart
So that divine happiness may find you
As he becomes a scavenger
A vagabond in the valley of words
Hunting solace in art.

Let’s Pretend

lets's pretend

Let’s pretend
Let’s pretend to be alive
Hearts blooming with the sounds of spring
Let’s pretend to see the stars
Holding hands
Staring up, making shapes, counting
Let’s pretend to fill it all in
That moment
When planets align
Mine
Your’s
Questioning its very own existence
Time executes a treachery on itself
And stops
Let’s pretend
So … in a universe parallel to our’s
You and me
Don’t .

* In Quantum Physics there is a theory of Parallel Universes which states that there exist multiple universes which are exact copies of our own and there are multiple versions of us doing the exact opposite of what we do on ours.

Some People

some people

Some people, we love them;
but we don’t get near them
because, from far, they are more seductive,
from far, they are more noble
from far, they are more precious.

Some people, we love them,
we do anything to be close to them,
we do everything to share every detail of our life with them,
it hurts to stay away from them,
it is impossible to imagine our life without them.

Some people, we love them,
we wish to live a beautiful story with them,
we come up with circumstances just to bump into them,
we come up with excuses just to see them,
we live a fantasy with them.

Some people, we love them,
but we keep it a secret to ourselves,
so we remain silent, even if it burns us,
we don’t declare our love, because the obstacles are numerous,
and the consequences are frightening,
and it is best for us that the door stays shut between us.

Some people, we love them,
we fill the earth with their love and we speak about them to the world,
we constantly whisper their name,
we need their presence… like water…like air,
we suffocate when they are not around.

Some people, we love them,
because they are available,
and our need to be loved pulls us to them,
because time flies, we age, and it scares us to stay without a companion.

Some people, we love them,
because they deserve nothing but to be loved,
we learn from them,
we build with them,
we paint the color of life with them,
we do everything to keep them happy.

Some people, we love them,
but they don’t love us back,
so we break and fall,
we never forget them,
we love no one but them,
and we cry them over again, every time we fail to win their love.

Some people, we love them,
we just wait until they see us,
until they love us in return,
until they love us as much as we love them.

~ Khalil Gibran

Khalil Gibran (1883-1931) was born in Bsharri, Lebanon. He immigrated with his parents to Boston in 1895, and later settled in New York City. His works, written in both Arabic and English, are full of lyrical outpourings and express his deeply religious and mystical nature. His work The Prophet (1923), a book of poetic essays, achieved cult status in modern literature. Gibran died in New York City.

Poetic Truths (Repost)

poetic truths

For it’s a strange thing that
we are able to weave the web of true poetry
only when sadness reigns the heart

Like that mystery ingredient
which adds flavor and finesse
to the gourmet of feelings expressed in words

Why happiness is seldom the reason to
elevate our words, lifting them at heights
unprecedented

Majority of poets are born
not out of curiosity, ambition or fascination
but out of necessity

Needs to fill up empty voids with words
voids acting up like black holes
in the cosmos of one’s emotions

It’s a reassurance to one’s self
almost a last resort against
blitzkrieg of the senses

A major part of life is spent in searching the
joys of heart so when at hand
we try our best living those moments

Songs are often born by the mating of
euphoria and glee as the words
get the baptism of contentedness

People relate more to sadness
so tragic poetry seems like a soothing light
at the end of the tunnel

 

Its just a feeling of mine that words come out more strongly when your heart is sad.

Blitzkrieg = An intense military campaign intended to bring about a swift victory.