Jo Rishtey Dil Se Jurte Hain


Jo Rishtey Dil se jurte hain inhain tora nahi karte
Kisi ka saath Raste mai kabhi chora nahi karte



Kahin is se Tumhare haath hi zakhmi na ho jayein
Jo Toote Aaina to phir ise jora nahi karte


Koi Toofan Teri Kishti ko Garq-e-Aab na karde
Kabhi Biphri hoi Mojon ka Rukh mora nahi karte


Tijarat ke usulon per Mohabbat ki nahi jati
Mohabbat mai kabhi Jazbaat ka Souda nahi karte


Sitam karna Mohabbat per, yeh hai Adat zamane ki
Zamane ke sitam per Hum yeh Dil tora nahi karte


Mohabbat ke usulon mai, yehi pehla usool apna
Ke Hum apni Mohabbat ko kabhi Ruswa nahi karte


Jis se Mohabbat karte ho us se Jhoot na bolo
Mohabbat mai kabhi Khayaanat kia nahi karte

sitaro se aage kaha koi neha
tumhi ho tumhi ho tumhi tumho neha
lagta nahi dil kahi ab hamara
dil me samai ho tum jabse neha
mai din raat khoyaa hi rahta tumhi me
khayalo me dhdkan me sanso me neha
baharo me neha fazao me neha
khilaye gulo ko wo shabnam ho neha
nahi aam shay tum ho pariyo ki raani
jo dil ko suku de khushi wo ho neha
mujhe tum bhi chaho yeh galti n karna
mai hoo musalma tum hindu ho neha
tumhe bhool paana hai mushkil bahot ab
n karna kabhi tum mujhe yaad neha
hamara hai kyaa gham to kismat hai meri
jamane ki khushiyaa mile tumko neha
use chahna bas jise paa sako tum
( sharif ) ne kiyaa jo woh tum n karna

jab bhi gagan se aati hai barsaat ki neha
pazeb khankhanati hai barsat ki neha
phoolo ke hoott choom kar kaliyo se pyaar kar
kuch aur sawar jaati hai barsat ki neha
hai jhoom jhoom jati darakhto ki tahniya
kuch aise gungunati hai barsat ki neha
saki tu apna sagar o meena sambhal rakh
rimjhim ki mai pilati hai barsaat ki neha
deepawali si aaj hai phoolo ke desh me
patto pe jagmagati hai barsat ki neha
pahle bhi jalata tha hame aankh ka paani
yeh aur bhi jalati hai barsat ki neha
aziz hai ( sharif ) ki milti kabhi kabhi
aankho me chlchalati hai barsat ki neha

KYA KAROGE

Jab guzar jayegi Bahar to Kya Karoge
Yaad ayega Mera Pyaar to Kya Karoge
Satate ho aise jese Ajnabi hoon Mai
Jab Roothega Tum se Yaar to Kya Karoge
Apnaoge kisi aur ko Mujhay Tanha chorr kar
Usay hoga na Tum se Pyaar tto Kya Karoge
Aakhir Laut aaoge Tum Meri Raahon pe
Phir milega na pehla Pyaar to Kya Karoge

koi to hota
main jis k dil ki kitab banti
main jis ki chahat ke khawab bunti
man hijr ke mosam ki lambi rato main
YAD ban ke azab banti

koi to hota
jo mari khueahish main
uth ke rato ko khoob rota
dukhon ki chadar labet kar
hujoom-e-dunia se door hota
main rooth jati
manat mujko
k chahay mara qasoor hota

koi to hota
main jis ke itna qareeb hoti
na paas koi raqeeb hota
main tanha uska naseeb hote
koi to hota

Ager chaho to lot ana

Ager chaho to lot ana
han
agr chaho to lot ana
k
YAAD tumari
ab k ansoo
palko pay dangi pahra
or
dil ki dharkan
bn k ahat
qadmo k sath rahegi
r
drarwaza-e-dil pe
hr ahat
dastak dati rahegi
mager
dil hay k tumaray intzar main
to
ager chaho to lot ana
k
palko pe
tharay ansoo ko rukhsati chahey
k
yeh
pahray pe kharay kharay
thak jaegay sakht
or
dil ki dharakan b
than jaegi
mager
dil ki dharakan ko thanmay na dena
k
tham gae dil ki dharakan
to
khatam hojaega
INTEZAR
aur
muje to karna hay
tumara intezar
to
kahna hay yahi
AGER CHAHO TO LOT ANA

maza nai ara

You don't own me
I'm not just one of your many toys
You don't own me
Don't say I can't go out with other boys
And don't tell me what to do
Don't tell me what to say
And please when I go out with you
don't put me on display
Cuz ... you don't own me
Don't try to change me in any way
You don't own me
Don't try to cuz I'll never stay
I don't tell you what to say
I don't tell me what to do
So just let me be myself
That's all I ask of you
I'm young and I love to be young
I'm free and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want
To say and do whatever I please...
* * *

BadShaH1:

maza nai ara

kiun?/ whats wrong?

they are alot na, isilie?

kash to hota
main jis k dil ki kitab banti
main jis ki chahat ke khawab bunti
man hijr ke mosam ki lambi rato main
YAD ban ke azab banti

kash tu hota
jo mari khueahish main
uth ke rato ko khoob rota
dukhon ki chadar labet kar
hujoom-e-dunia se door hota
main rooth jati
manat mujko
k chahay mara qasoor hota

kash tu hota
main jis ke itna qareeb hoti
na paas koi raqeeb hota
main tanha uska naseeb hote


modified form

BadShaH1:

kash to hota
main jis k dil ki kitab banti
main jis ki chahat ke khawab bunti
man hijr ke mosam ki lambi rato main
YAD ban ke azab banti

kash tu hota
jo mari khueahish main
uth ke rato ko khoob rota
dukhon ki chadar labet kar
hujoom-e-dunia se door hota
main rooth jati
manat mujko
k chahay mara qasoor hota

kash tu hota
main jis ke itna qareeb hoti
na paas koi raqeeb hota
main tanha uska naseeb hote


modified form

yes it is!

han ek to bohot ziada hein
or LAUT AO wale topic ki bohot ziada hein na..

I don't often write poetry, but i just like reading them, and post them i, and that's if i like them alot

BadShaH1:

han ek to bohot ziada hein
or LAUT AO wale topic ki bohot ziada hein na..

laot ao topic????

wapis a jao wali
chor key kaha chalay gaye..
roney dhoney wali

ok, i'll slow down!

itney zada nahi karon gi, ok?

BadShaH1:

wapis a jao wali
chor key kaha chalay gaye..
roney dhoney wali

awwwwww

no, i do like it! wo kia hae na, personality per bhi depend kerta hae!!! meri personality aisi poetries read kerne ki hae

kiu kon chor ker chela gaya hei????

BadShaH1:

kiu kon chor ker chela gaya hei????

nahi baba! aisee koi baat nahi hae mere saath!

[Ah, God, the way your little finger moved]

Ah, God, the way your little finger moved
As you thrust a bare arm backward
And made play with your hair
And a comb a silly gilt comb
Ah, God—that I should suffer
Because of the way a little finger moved

[Dear, I to thee this diamond commend]

Dear, I to thee this diamond commend,
In which a model of thyself I send.
How just unto thy joints this circlet sitteth,
So just thy face and shape my fancy fitteth.
The touch will try this ring of purest gold,
My touch tries thee, as pure though softer mold.
That metal precious is, the stone is true,
As true, and then how much more precious you.
The gem is clear, and hath nor needs no foil,
Thy face, nay more, thy fame is free from soil.
You'll deem this dear, because from me you have it,
I deem your faith more dear, because you gave it.
This pointed diamond cuts glass and steel,
Your love's like force in my firm heart I feel.
     But this, as all things else, time wastes with wearing,
     Where you my jewels multiply with bearing.

[My lady's presence makes the roses red]

My lady's presence makes the roses red,
Because to see her lips they blush for shame.
The lily's leaves, for envy, pale became,
And her white hands in them this envy bred.
The marigold the leaves abroad doth spread,
Because the sun's and her power is the same.
The violet of purple colour came.
Dyed in the blood she made my heart to shed.
In brief: all flowers from her their virtue take;
From her sweet breath their sweet smells do proceed;
The living heat which her eyebeams doth make
Warmeth the ground and quickeneth the seed.
The rain, wherewith she watereth the flowers,
Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves in showers.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
Vain man, said she, that dost in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalize!
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eek my name be wiped out likewise.
Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name;
Where, whenas death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.

Eugene Field

A Valentine to My Wife

Accept, dear girl, this little token,
   And if between the lines you seek,
You'll find the love I've often spoken—
   The love my dying lips shall speak.

Our little ones are making merry
   O'er am'rous ditties rhymed in jest,
But in these words (though awkward—very)
   The genuine article's expressed.

You are as fair and sweet and tender,
   Dear brown-eyed little sweetheart mine,
As when, a callow youth and slender,
   I asked to be your Valentine.

What though these years of ours be fleeting?
   What though the years of youth be flown?
I'll mock old Tempus with repeating,
   "I love my love and her alone!"

And when I fall before his reaping,
   And when my stuttering speech is dumb,
Think not my love is dead or sleeping,
   But that it waits for you to come.

So take, dear love, this little token,
   And if there speaks in any line
The sentiment I'd fain have spoken,
   Say, will you kiss your Valentine?

At Last

At last, when all the summer shine
   That warmed life's early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
   And hold them close—at last—at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
   Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled,—
   But you, dear heart, you love me now.

Though there are shadows on my brow
   And furrows on my cheek, in truth,—
The marks where Time's remorseless plough
   Broke up the blooming sward of Youth,—
Though fled is every girlish grace
   Might win or hold a lover's vow,
Despite my sad and faded face,
   And darkened heart, you love me now!

I count no more my wasted tears;
   They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
   This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
   May bring to burden heart or brow,—
Strong in the love that came so late,
   Our souls shall keep it always now!

Beautiful Dreamer

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away!

Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng.

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.

Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast as Thou Art

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
   Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
   Like nature's patient sleepless eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
   Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
   Of snow upon the mountains and the moors;
No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
   Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
   Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

Damelus' Song to Diaphenia

Diaphenia, like the daffadowndilly,
White as the sun, fair as the lily,
           Heigh ho, how I do love thee!
I do love thee as my lambs
Are belovëd of their dams—
           How blest were I if thou wouldst prove me!

Diaphenia, like the spreading roses,
That in thy sweets all sweets incloses,
           Fair sweet, how I do love thee!
I do love thee as each flower
Loves the sun's life-giving power,
           For, dead, thy breath to life might move me.

Diaphenia, like to all things blessed,
When all thy praises are expressëd,
           Dear joy, how I do love thee!
As the birds do love the spring,
Or the bees their careful king,—
           Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me

Damelus' Song to Diaphenia

Diaphenia, like the daffadowndilly,
White as the sun, fair as the lily,
           Heigh ho, how I do love thee!
I do love thee as my lambs
Are belovëd of their dams—
           How blest were I if thou wouldst prove me!

Diaphenia, like the spreading roses,
That in thy sweets all sweets incloses,
           Fair sweet, how I do love thee!
I do love thee as each flower
Loves the sun's life-giving power,
           For, dead, thy breath to life might move me.

Diaphenia, like to all things blessed,
When all thy praises are expressëd,
           Dear joy, how I do love thee!
As the birds do love the spring,
Or the bees their careful king,—
           Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me!

"women are the sweetness of life."

poets can build galaxies from pebbles
& breathe the word of life into brief glances,
but one must be careful with the power of creation
so i scribble an obligatory, struggling to keep from
staining the page with the exaggeration of new passion,
unsure if i am simply the writer who lives downstairs,
plays his coltrane too loud & likes thunderstorms

i take a trip one flight up
where your eyes escort me to another country,
your touch becomes a wet kiss on the horizon
of a birthday in a warm july
i travel to your smile to hear stories of
wrecked trains parked in your dining room

but the past is a vulgar thief
it steals the laughter from your eyes,
tosses the broken edges of yesterday's heartache
into this remembrance
i dream of erasing painful memories with lingering
caresses from a steady hand

i rearrange the jagged stars of your past
i am the young boy smiling at you with love letter eyes
i carve your name into the soul of graying trees
i am your first slow dance, a trembling hand teetering on your waist
i replace the melancholy prayers on your lips with urgent kisses
i swear an oath to your beauty, become holy in your embrace

traveling tall miles through years of distance,
i arrive, wet from your tears,
my only tool—a poet’s skill
i mend your smile,
emancipate your eyes,
& together
we ride that wrecked train from your dining room
to the horizon of your birthday in another country.