Confluence of love | REPOST

The love of yours, To the love of mine,
The affinity of heart-beats, To remain alive.
The eyes of yours, And the eyes of mine,
Enough to see, The world of ourselves.
The arm of yours, To the arms of mine,
Enough to reside, For the whole of our lives.
The lip of yours, To the lips of mine,
A completeness, And cheers to the life.
Your trembling soul, To my closeness,
Your bowed eyes, And my yearning life,
Makes it adorn, The coveting soul of mine.

“I do love you” |Poem

In midst of life,
In lies of the world,
In my craving thoughts,
I breathe of disguise,
I am not your worthy,
neither trust Worthy,
But I do love you.

For that reason,
Or for many reasons,
I blush at you, or
for silly jokes you have,
I might tell you some day,
Or may not tell you ever,
But I do love you.

There’re flowers I look at,
the same way I see you,
I smile for them,
I don’t touch them,
But I do love them.
The freshness I find in them,
I find in you.
For this reason,
maybe the only reason,
I do love you.

You know even if don’t,
I will continue loving you,
Like i’m standing
in the burning sun,
I feel no sun, but calmness,
For you’re standing,
in front of my eyes.

For the feel, no one does,
But I do.
For life no one have,
But I do.
In the pride of loving you I say,
I do love you.

A Red, Red Rose -Robert Burns

O my Luve is like a red, red rose

   That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve is like the melody

   That’s sweetly played in tune.



So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

   So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

   Till a’ the seas gang dry.



Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

   And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

I will love thee still, my dear,

   While the sands o’ life shall run.



And fare thee weel, my only luve!

   And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

   Though it were ten thousand mile.

A thing of Beauty is a joy for ever – by john Keats

John Keats(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.

Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple’s self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast,
That, whether there be shine, or gloom o’ercast;
They always must be with us, or we die.

Therefore, ’tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own valleys: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city’s din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And run in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I’ll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimm’d and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finish’d: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end.
And now, at once adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.


Presence is You

In the glare of little sunshine,
In blossoms of pink daffodils,
With buckets of happiness,
Presence is you.

It’s you
in the first rain to the fists,
In the closed eyes of the nights,
It’s you – Seeking a heart,
to console, and to burn it.

It’s you
in the slump of dreams,
In the wonders of rains,
With the brand of stare.
In the rivers of romance
dissolved is you.

It’s you,
for an ever, to a forever,
and never to be never,
Presence is you.
It’s you for a forever,
It’s always YOU.

First Love

The way she passed the bridge of my memory,
I lost my way out of the senses.
The lights of courage in me was diminished,
Flaunted by the winds of first love.

Her gaze of glitters stared at me,
Like she holds secrecy of wings,
A breath that dissolved in me,
felt like a fragrance of undiscovered life.

I hated being intimated my own thoughts,
But it does happen to me,
Like a life that was not the same ever since.

She could have seen me,
A glimpse of me to her,
Or a never-ending gaze,
Could be something there,
I must have done,
But that moment of love,
Is a love that loses to win.

The tryst of Love

Hurt,
deep,
inside the heart,
Crawling,
Scattered,
Whimpering,
asking for help,
stayed in him,
the desires,
the hopes,
a thought,
a thought of coincident.

Afar,
Running,
Vast in the woods,
alone,
lost,
star crossed,
in the thought of,
of being complete,
staying,
in the darkest hours,
the hours of dark thoughts,
her life echoing,
to wait,
till the end,
an end,
till their tryst.

A walk of images,
appeared,
paving ways,
roads to both,
roads of possibilities,
a life,
beyond their capabilities,
a life,
there always was.

Emerging,
Changing winds,
going through,
with them,
asked them,
asked to follow.

As they followed,
to the unknown,
against their will,
Bestrewed,
Beseeching,
the destiny,
to meet,
to meet at their tryst.

Reaching,
at a dingle,
the flowers,
blossoming,
the wind,
never felt before,
the eyes,
effulgently,
went an espy,
an espy,
of each other,
as a stranger,
Known,
so much familiar,
with faded,
outline in memories.

Time urged,
to know,
and to understand,
just don’t let go,
sit,
talk,
and begin,
what was never started?

Understand,
trust,
the destiny of yours,
stick together,
and never ever,
be apart,
continue..
your trust,
tryst of love,
to a never ending,
a never-ending-end.