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"Tobu O Bristi Asuq" (Let There Be Rain) is a collection of 41 poems of variegated tastes and flavor mostly of personal trend and characteristics by Shafiqul Islam a young poet of great erudition bestowed with an attractive poetic vein. -Prof. A.Noor...

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Let the rain fall In the desert of conscience May the humanity bloom there Alike flower. And the world and evils of mind Be purified. (Poem: Thirst for Rain)...

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A series of poems written during 2015.

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Complex are the ways of life. Difficult it is to describe them in Black & White. Emotions are many; Words are few. And those who know them are far and few Life is a book of poems; And this is mine. Beautiful or ugly, you determine. ...

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Standing frail, she diffused her smell far and wide. Not a man who was not attracted to this beauty of fairies. Not a man who didn’t wish to appropriate her for self. But her misty eyes were still poignant for love. For which vulnerability, the men staged duals a plenty. Yet she remained Virgin, for none had the limbs enough. The luxury of choice she didn't have, But her heart plotted a rebel nevertheless. An evening clouded the Sun of the West. When the sounds of prayer were sent in the air with smell. But the dog the men are, they heard only smell. And she remained Virgin, for none had the ears enough. In the morning of the sun after an endless night of hope. She dreamt of a prince of valor, chivalry and a lovely soul. He came to rescue her from the grip of darkness. And embraced her in his arms with love and dearness. Alas! Her dream broke for it was a day-dream in the Sun. And she remained Virgin, for had she not the eyes enough. . Never did she like the shabby wires inside her head. And gave all credit to her heart, eyes, face and smell. Finally, she turned to her mind in despair for help. And the a...

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Virgin No More Love with the Night The Rain Desert Climb Up the Ladder I Met Her He Was Walking In Search of the One The Last Train The Dividing Line | The Seashore ...

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A Concrete Verse poem which may be considered an elegiac Idyll on Beauty as Idée was written over a Thirty-year Entr'acte. It was composed of and with occurrences that began in 1963 of which some lines may be found in poems from "Miss Crabtree's Daughters" and "On the Nature of Existence"....

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Light as ponderous settling fog obscures | Reflections of flesh once was | Hundred-year mirror | Age has | photographs belied | They silently exist | by prusse Moon lit: | forgotten | were Reminiscences to be found; | Sorrows in Solitude solace consoled by one not seen; | embraces and caresses adumbrated | by Presence; | Existence frolicked imp-like: | Revelments paled | Resplendences paled | The currents set by Chronos slowed in the dark of Chaos; | And Beauty smiling | in | Mémoire | translucide...

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These poems were written by Walter J. Hochlowski and have been compiled from papers which he bequeathed to his daughters upon his death. It was his desire that his poems be shared with those who might find interest. ...

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The past speaks of an open lore The battles have been waged before. Before us now the future unfolds None answer lest our past upholds.

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This is a set of 9 poems I have written to match 9 paintings done by my 5 year daughter Pell. The poems are, imaginative, quirky, funny and adorable, and there is something for everyone. One poem is about Halloween, another about snowmen and a third about sea life. Read on and enjoy the colourful, vibrant paintings....

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On Halloween it's okay to be scary and bad It's okay to be nasty and evil and mad On this one day you don't have to behave It's okay to shriek and to howl and to rise from a grave ...

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The Snow People The Caterpillar And The Butterfly It's Sailing Away Autumn Naughty On Halloween The Bridge The Octopus And His Friends Flitting Moments The Night Sky ...

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A book of peoms

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A collection of poems by Jan De Raeymaeker

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-- HOEBOY -- In the thrall of tiredness This hoeboy glowers out his ought ait A blunted oik forking the topsoil Jabbing tines scratching the crumb for plink Sight penned to vacant gyres, slung Between swells and sumps Every fibre lying for the other; belying the need To be free from kinesthesia ...

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Vigil ..................4 Natter .................5 Confidence .............6 Hoeboy .................7 The pull of grass ......8 Clippered ..............9 Wave ...................10 Losing the plot ........11 Within reach ...........12 Mussels ................13 Pregnant ...............14 Heavy ..................15 Santa ..................16 Knitting ...............17 Lacing .................18 Glide ..................19 Handball ...............20 Carcass ................21 Retardation ............22 Yaw ....................23 Shower .................24 Run down ...............25 Shimmer ................26 Peering out ............27 Lucid lady .............28 Wild things ............29 ...

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Poems by Jan De Raeymaeker

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The Butt --------- Don't forget the butt Do you feel sorry for it? Shake your head sadly at its down-trodden looks So abused, now frayed and thrown away But observe the lipstick on its collar It has felt the embrace of a woman Or some painted lips Has been ignited: set on fire with desire Has been loved – however briefly Has been longingly handled, touched: caressed Sucked on wantonly Pulled into a heaving chest It lies now, not looking the best: broken Its core crudely, publicly, exposed Its heart torn open Used and tarred, then discarded Look at that butt Feel your pity But remind yourself It has known more life and love than most in this city ...

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Car conch 5 Canal, early morning 6 Wind and demon 7 The Butt 8 Playthings 9 History 11 Wet drive 12 Silhouette street 13 Hug 14 The key 15 Steeple 16 Love sleeps 17 Rush 18 Lost scobe 20 A miracle at Michaels 21 Delusion 22 Searching for words 23 Mawes 24 This face 25 She puzzled 26 Finding his fun 27 Olive 29 Street-sweeper 30 Fire waking 31 Collectables 32 Beating my boundaries 33 Coffee quiff 34 Bite 35 The sparkling raspberry 36 In search of sin 37 Beautiful Slant 38 Burning morning 39 Wait at the Tate 40 Stifled life 41 Knee pop 42 Miserable weather 43 Mate of fate 44 Old Dublin anew 45 A ma 47 Dublin city marathon 48 ...

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Poems by Jan De Raeymaeker

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-- EMERALD AND BERYL -- Then life comes back On the limbs of the lost and gone Criss-crossed thousands Finding slow decay On the bones of Beech The tomb-teeth of Pine Feeding from the fallen And bowered stumps Reaching skyward, bit by bit Its innocent stems Topped in emerald and beryl Alive and vibrant, and so delicate ...

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Lost in the night .......4 Read on .................5 Sightless ...............6 Silver-locks ............7 Cheese and onion ........8 Fall of dreams ..........9 Gob .....................10 Sifting .................11 The death of a swan .....12 Loss ....................13 School’s out ............14 Cripple .................15 Thistle nettle ..........16 Quivering note ..........17 Stranger ................18 Wisdom ..................19 Buckle and rust .........20 Ba-na-na ................21 Stimuli .................22 Emerald and Beryl .......23 Excavation ..............24 Failure .................25 Awkward moment ..........26 Little people ...........27 Next ....................28 Fishing net .............29 Underworth ..............30 He’d almost laughed .....31 Raw .....................32 ...

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Poems by Jan De Raeymaeker

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Sound me ---------- Sound me. Am I not round in your mouth? Do I split your lips? Make you spit? Do I make you bite your tongue? Push the syllables out wrongly? Do I make you gnash? Tangle you in a toothed trap? Sound me. I am round in your mouth. I make yours’ open with a pout. Make you lovingly form me And long to breathe me out. ...

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Dank 5 Me enemy 6 Stones far from home 8 Machine cleaned 9 Insightful incite 10 Around the Park 12 God bless 13 Sound me 14 Seamus 15 Cackle 16 Madcap and Dove 17 Drifting off 18 Dis Deus 19 Donegal 20 Abandon God 21 Earlsfort and Irish 22 Not good enough 23 Burnt Dahlias 24 Straight 25 Fight to be Me 26 An end 27 On yer bike 28 Functional family 29 Spit 30 Mobile’s cry 31 Pot-bellied Percy 32 Sixteen years 33 Northside lights 35 The pup 36 The covering 37 Lecher 38 Hock 40 Conjoined sugar 41 Poorness 42 The Crowd 43 Bodlian weed 45 Tortoise shell 46 First to go 47 The end of the line 48 Witness to a Trip 49 ...

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Dear Lover—a poetry collection about hope and heartbreak, about love in its short, long, and temporary forms, about how love can be cloaked in abuse, how love can build us or break us, the hard and soft of it, the good, the bad, and the completely atrocious. The collection is a poetic story of different relationships which are organized into the stages of a relationship; that initial attraction, the circling dance around each other, the honey-moon stage, the souring, the fighting, the breaking up, and the recovering. This work is deeply personal, but relatable all the same. Autobiographical at its core, it aims for love's failures and triumphs, its disappointments and celebrations, the bad, the good, and the downright ugly. It is a poetry collection that reaches for the hearts of anyone who has ever fallen in love, thought of falling in love, fallen out of love, or is in love with the idea of love. Written in letter format, the collection includes a few sonnets, a couple villanelles, and a pantoum among the formal verse poetry, but mostly it is an experimentation with prose poetry and free verse that hardly seems free at times...

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Dear Lover, If you are empty I am open a lock is nothing without a key to close it, a saucer needs tea like sugar needs a spoon a model does not both pose and paint think of dissolving sugar, sweetened teas Matcha whisks and sheltering saucers ceramic teapots and crochet coasters a heat that creeps from tea to saucer a warmth spread by a sweetening spoon what is a journey without someone who wanders if sometimes a pair is made of two...

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Search & Discovery Something About Sleeping Sweet Something(s) Appearances Musing(s) Fear Shame Casual Happenings Promises, Promises Taking Advantage Suffering Compromise and Comparison Apology Penance Recovery The End ...

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...A cycle of poems of yes and no, rumors of life dancing on this islet sphere riding the blind career of outward motion. These rhymes are threnodies and hosannas among nurseries and crypts, hummings to fright hants habiting dingy trails through a wilderness, attempts to stay awhile this side the lichgate by becoming a gossip for the ineffable. They are a literary aesthetic concerning the quicksilver bric-a-brac on the shelves of this what-not of becoming, a naming of smoke, a grasping at echoes, that I might hide in posterity's pocket another day, another night, beyond the terrible hunger of the past's insatiable forgetting. They are wild habits of reluctance. ...

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The Song of Songs [of Solomon] (שִׁיר הַשִּׁירִים Šîr haŠîrîm, ᾎσμα ᾎσμάτων Aisma Aismatōn, Cantĭcum Canticōrum) is a poetic courtship that moves from enchantment to consummation. Devoid of religiosity, it has traditionally been understood as metaphor for the relationship of the soul with the Divine – of God with Israel – of Christ with the Church – of Christ with the human soul – or humanistically, as a metaphor for psychological integrity. In his 12th century sermon, ‘On the Title of the Book: The Song of Songs’, St. Bernard of Clairvaux’s meditative reading followed the book of Ecclesiastes, which teaches ‘how to … have done with the false promise of this world’, and the book of Proverbs that enlightens ‘your life and your conduct’. He called these two preliminary books antidotes to the two enemies of the soul – ‘misguided love of the world and an excessive love of self’, and he observed that only ‘the mind disciplined by persevering study’ is made ‘ripe … for nuptial union with the divine partner’. His spiritual marriage between the heavenly Bridegroom and the human bride occurs when the two become one, and that one is the ...

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A wise man once set down in song, beauty that in nature rests, for which all hearts forever long like dreams deep in maidens’ breasts : The young woman: “My man, your kiss is my mantle your musk clothes me with alarm, allows my guard be more gentle. Oh, who could resist such charm! Oh, let’s elope to foreign parts, and reveal to me your realm; there let us practice lovers’ arts for we’ll both be overwhelmed. Yes, no one could resist such charm! Sisters of our sober town, You see my skin so sunned from farm, its like a richly gilded gown – a noble robe gifting my hue. Though born beyond your boudoir, underneath I’m the same as you. Why look down on my colour, ...

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