Learn about love from poet rumi - poetry
Learn about love by appraisal poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for antediluvian texts buried in caves. . . Search the Net.
In this contemporary age of technology, busy lifestyles, and obsession with consumerism have taken a lot of the romance and love out of our lives. The Internet has develop into a form to associate with citizens as all is judgment it a lot harder to meet one an added in the 'real' world. It has indisputably also befall a place of voyeuristic fantasy in the realms of sexuality on pornographic sites. What ever happened to true love? Are our priorities so messed up that romance has been forgotten, only to be skilled vicariously because of tube and movies? The counter is no. Romance will never die; we just have to feed it with our energy.
Around 800 years ago a famed Arabic poet, philosopher and sage named Rumi wrote delightful love poetry clear of all comparison. I don't know if there have been many other citizens in Earth's annals that have attention about love as much as this master. His poems have not been forgotten, and one place you can cleanly find and read them is on the Internet. E. g. www. khamush. com/love_poems. html
The beauty of the heart
Of avenue you can also buy books by Rumi on the Net as well, but the main point here is that the Internet doesn't just give us admission to our at hand time and place; it gives us a means to associate with past realities often implicit to be lost in time. It is quite ironic and impossible that we can use this contemporary space age tool to bond with our cultural, spiritual and collective heritages. We as a civilization have come a long way in terms of our technological development, but it is well known all through the world that our ancestors were much more evolved in these central areas where our advance has befall short due to a lack of awareness and narrow perspectives on life.
Love, romance, spirituality, none of these clothes need be forgotten. The answers aren't safe away in tombs and pyramids; they are still here lasting in the back of our consciousness. All we need to do is to get the appeal to fulfil our lives by these means and we will explore and find the ways. Human beings are incredibly creative creatures. When we put our minds to amazing we can make just about everything happen. I don't want to imply that the answers to our troubles are easy, or that the Internet is our sole saviour. I am just amazed at how all belongings in life are connected, and that we just have to open our eyes to see the all too obvious!
About The Author
Jesse S. Somer, M6. Net
http://www. m6. net
Jesse S. Somer is a journalist incisive for Cupid's arrows everywhere possible. He has found that the current Internet to be a feasible basis of antediluvian awareness and wisdom.
Two Poems, with Metaphoric Language
Says Mr. Dennis Siluk, when asked to appraise his poetry somewhat, for he hesitates all the time when I ask him to so; I can tell you.
Our home was warm in the shade of the trees or when the sun was not upon it.It was built on the side of a hill, near a lake where spirits could be free.
Ballade of an Inca King
Ah! Leave the gold, wealth and landSays the Inca King?; In Spain, they leave the full of go streets, For sail to Peruvian shores;The buzz of the gold is sweet,It glows and glistens like the sun A mountain of gold, or the grave Awaits the human, Inca-god?!Spaniards sing their songs of victoryWhere breaks the green Peruvian sea; Who now, worships the Inca King (?) Guarded at the back prisons doors-?They babble on about his fair ringsThey watch the winds cross the shores? They count the days that idle by, For gold they worship and will die.Envoy.
I never brain wave I would have to say GOODBYE to my best friend? But that's what I had to do today I had to let go of her eternally -There was no other way For me to face authenticity Or pretend to be okay I had no conception -Of how hard it would be To in fact let go Of this huge part of me? Not tomorrow or ever -Will my life be the same Exclusive of my Grannio here Life seems to be a game - Of attempt and questions?Questions that never end And have no answers That can begin to mend The huge hole confidential of meNor come close to curative My heart and soul that Seem to be ambiance Lost, numb and empty-Completely hollow? Like I have nonentity left To exceedingly adhere to - All the way through life with respectShe was so much more Than my Grandmother I knew that ahead of She left this earthAnd I told her so More than once or twice For the reason that she had to know Just how very distinctive -And truly blessed I felt to have her as my associate She was the best Not including a doubt -My Grannio gave me More than everybody Will ever certainly see? It was an tacit -Kind of love That came with no situation And went far above The conventional caringAnd be in the region of aid For a grandchild - Or ancestors of any sort She gave more of herselfTo me than everybody In my life ever will Insignificant person could have done What she did for meWith so much devotion, Conclusive honesty And true emotion? Her constancy was -Sincerely abiding I achieve so much Now that I'm crying - And wishing thatI had just one more day To spend asset her hand And difficult to take away Her fears and her pain -That took over her Body and her mind Like never before? In our lives -I would have genuinely Given 20 years of my life To have her just Be here tomorrow -I cannot account for The way I feel today Or how much I pain Is contained by of me -That will never go away No be important how much time passes I know this ache will stay With me forever?Just as her exceptional touch Will all the time be with me And mean so very much - To me and my son?Jakob Thomas Her "BabyDoll" And I agree To never not remember -What she would have done If she was still here For him - her only one Great-grandchild?Resource Box - © Danielle Hollister (2004) is the Publisher of BellaOnline Quotations Zine - A free newsletter for quote lovers featuring more than 10,000 quotations in dozens of categories like - love, friendship, children, inspiration, success, wisdom, family, life, and many more. Read it online at - http://www.
Poetry in a Nutshell
Poetry is more than just rhyming and prose that is in meters and verse. It is an art form.
Three Poems and Paradise Lost [One for Hell, One for Heaven one for an Inca King]
The White water of HellHell's furnace- Likened to a chimney Vomits her torrents Of flames- Into the air Through earths crust And the earth's trembles-!Agitated, she projects A thick curtain of smoke To heat the feet of those Who provoke her every wish. Like molten iron She waits for the soul(the moment) Then molds, into her enclosure Human serpents? Out of savage flesh!No storm, no struggle No eruption, no typhoon, Just a terrible phenomenon, Hell is adept of producing; And upon death, Back into the Abyss They melt!.
Two Poems and an Assay ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']
Two Poems and an Breakdown ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']WitnessMy face belongs to whoever sees it Everything has a connotation but life Even the bugs strive for existence God saved man, from God Ghosts have lonely sins Her bones are stones Up and down the hill Gardens blossom Spotless skies Dramatists August I can not rest!..
Spell of the Andes: (in English and Spanish)
Note: printed 4-15-05, while forceful all the way through the Andes of Peru, from Huancayo to Lima. I sensed I was but an ant, among the mass of stone, earth and flora of this enchanting, and durable landscape.
Arizona Blue--Gunfighter: The Wolves Nest [Chapter One of Seven: The North]
[Episode Five]Arizona Blue-GunfighterThe Wolves Nest-in the North[Episode Five]Northern Minnesota Area-Winter of 1877Chapter One of Seven: The NorthThe area was known as Pigs Eye [St. Paul, Minnesota]; Northfield was a a small amount more notorious since Jessie James robbed the 1st Citizen Bank, in September of last year, and more to the West.
Blind Designs [a Poem] and a Note by Rosa on The Other Door
Blind DesignsBorn today, gone tomorrow Like a butterfly with no stomach Born n the morning, dead by night Oh-let me whisper Oh-let me cry What man has not learned? What man will not learn! In his pomposity, his oratory With his abstract concepts With his intellect With his creativeness He has befit enslaved By-them? By them all, he will fall. Ah! Yes-abstract concepts Bombast and idiom His intellect His cleverness This he trees behind To his decedents!.
Live For Today...
Isn't that what they say?But what does that mean?There's no characterization that mayanswer that question..
For My Mother
I cannot bear to think of when you will be gone.I do not understand how I will get along.
Two Poems and a Short Story
1)dying in the bar [sluggishly]yet, I would crawl too upto the bar, it was everything, the dampness the fixed wood the zoned-out-ness in my head dreaming; it was develop than death? then I took an added drink?so many I never moved much, like dead fish. my head split like an ass it was numb and, nobody else numbness was my homeacross the street, dancing on the patio the moon was out.
How wonderfully sweet to be a dweller dwelling on the road of goodbye. Bittersweet tears fall as I think of all the chairs I'll never see, all the faces I'll never know, all the joys I'll never share, as I head for the unknown.
Four Poems: Two for the Devil, Two for Peru
Here is some witty poetry (not sure if that is the appropriate word: witty, but it will do): one poem on the Aztec year 2012, a year that has been in the public's eye quite a lot; one on cloning, and the biblical end time events--which, if I may add seems ripe for the monster measures that are said to take place; and two poems commerce with some tradtions of Peru; one imparticular, on vacationing, where not to go; all the makings for some thought.Aztec BabyOn December 25, 2012 AD The Devil had an idea- He'd clone himself In the form of a baby; Called the Antichrist.
House of the Gnome [Part Two of Three/with notes]
House of the Goblin [Part Two of Three]Here is where, where the air is stillAnd the mountains gloom disappear! Here is where, unmarked spirits dwellWhere harp and reminiscence expire?Where the rainbow-leaps, from itsStoreroom-keep, and cries; And the sands along the heap coastEcho then die?as in sleep?;And where attraction turns into ghouls!..
A Dose of Laughter
I'm not well. Can't you tell? Kinda low, so, give me a dose of laughter.
"I heard what you said, Red. Yet, I have to disagree.
Caught in the Arms of ED
YOU MIGHT THINK I AM STRONGI THINK YOU GOT IT WRONGI LIVE LIFE DAY TO DAYHOPING IT WILL GO MY WAYI HAVE MY Contacts AND MY FOOD PLANMY Analyst AND MY THOUGHTSMY Assignment AND MY EXCITEMENTTHEN A bit HAPPENS AND I GET CAUGHTCAUGHT IN THE ARMS OF EDTURNING MY EYES AWAYFROM MY FOCUS TO WIN THE FIGHTTHAT I Brain wave WAS GOING TO STAY.HE TELLS ME THAT I AM SELFISHTHAT I Ought to DOUBT MY EVERY MOVEONE Detailed I AM HAPPYDO I HAVE A RIGHT TO FEEL THIS GOOD?DOUBTING MY Dilution AND CONFIDENCEAS ED At all times KNEW I WOULDI AM Trailing INCHES About MY WAISTAND MY PANTS ARE Lessening OFFI SEE THE FACE OF ED IN MY HEADAS HE BEGINS TO LAUGH AND SCOFFYOU THINK YOU ARE GOING STRONGYOU THINK YOU GOT ME BEATLET ME SEE YOU LOSE EVEN MOREYOU WILL SEE THAT YOU WERE WRONG.
Farewell to Lester Graybill
I never met a man, who could shake my hand, and make my heart feel like a fireplace afire.I never met a man, who could smile so easy, real honest.
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