WELL COME TO LOVE POEM THREAD

[||~R_girl~||]

So many words go unspoken,
As we linger here in the dark.
There is a thing or two I wish you to know,
But all the words seem to slip away,
As you tenderly wrap me in your embrace.

Still I wish I could find a way to say,
I never thought dreams could come true
Yet you showed me that they do,
When you came into my life.
You set my soul free,
With every kiss we share.
That from the moment I saw your face,
These feelings washed over me
Like a tidal wave against the jagged shore.
Tell me you feel the same.
Tell me there is nowhere else you would rather be.
Then here at this moment in each others arms.

So many words go unspoken
As we linger here in the dark.
Trying to find a way to let the other know
How wonderful life is here together silent in the dark.

 

[DJ.ROCKSTAR]

thanx r_girl keep on rocking

 

[||~R_girl~||]

thanx r_girl keep on rocking

yo welcm!

 

[Scorpio14]

These wounds of a broken heart are slowly healing-
each day the pain decreases; the blood quits oozing.
Ability to love again and see the light feels amazing-
the sad thoughts that once overpowered my decisions-
are quickly fading away; optimism is becoming visible.

It seems not too long ago I was hurting-
never believed I'd overcome this and move on.
I'm slowly realizing, things can be overcame-
time just has to pass so that things can happen.
I'm ready to love again, and give it another chance.

Yearning to be with another soul whom I admire-
desiring their touch and lips against mine softly.
Oh, how I want nothing more than to be with him-
so that he can fix up the wounds of my broken heart.
Give me your love; I'll give you the same in return.

Desperately awaiting that day that I fall for you-
everything to fit into place, and be the way I expected.
Time is passing before our eyes, why not act upon it.
Wash away all the stress I've encountered in my past-
make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.
Show me what love is like, tell me you love me.
If you'll be mine, then I'll be yours. Love me forever.

simply love the way u wrote this poem

 

[Scorpio14]

people cant miss this shakespeare peom ; )

SONNET 130
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

 

[Scorpio14]

So many words go unspoken,
As we linger here in the dark.
There is a thing or two I wish you to know,
But all the words seem to slip away,
As you tenderly wrap me in your embrace.

Still I wish I could find a way to say,
I never thought dreams could come true
Yet you showed me that they do,
When you came into my life.
You set my soul free,
With every kiss we share.
That from the moment I saw your face,
These feelings washed over me
Like a tidal wave against the jagged shore.
Tell me you feel the same.
Tell me there is nowhere else you would rather be.
Then here at this moment in each others arms.

So many words go unspoken
As we linger here in the dark.
Trying to find a way to let the other know
How wonderful life is here together silent in the dark.

wow really awesome poem keep it up!

 

[Scorpio14]

In my heart

In the everlasting fragrance
Of the sound
Of your love

I bathe and notice
Each winding minute
To your door.

To your door
The key to which
Unlocks each and every
Passage in my heart

Peter Stavropoulos

 

[yashan]

They say love is just a game
They say time can heal the pain
Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose
And i guess i'm just a fool
I keep holding on to you

I told you once you were the one
you know that i'll die for you
Although it hurts to see you go
oh this time you should know
i won't try to stop you

Don't you forget about me baby
Don't you forget about me now
Some day you'll turn around and ask me, why did i let you go

So you try to fake a smile
You don't wanna break my heart
I can see that you're afraid
But baby its too late
Cuz I'm already dying

Dont you forget about me baby
Dont you forget about me now
Some day you'll turn around and ask me, why did i let you go

Dont you forget about me baby
Dont you forget about me now
Some day you'll turn around and ask me, why did i let you go

Wherever I go, I won't forget about you
Wherever you go, don't you forget about me

ENRIQUE IGLESIAS-DON'T YOU FORGET ABOUT ME

 

[accessuser]

wow niyamai machnz

 

[accessuser]

In my heart

In the everlasting fragrance
Of the sound
Of your love

I bathe and notice
Each winding minute
To your door.

To your door
The key to which
Unlocks each and every
Passage in my heart

Peter Stavropoulos

wow mekath lassani

 

[DJ.ROCKSTAR]

simply love the way u wrote this poem

hehe thanx sister

 

[DJ.ROCKSTAR]

wow niyamai machnz

thanx machan so put ur some poems if u can ban

 

[DJ.ROCKSTAR]

machanz here its 2day updates

******************
MY BELOVED
******************

There was a time in my youth,
When Islam was only a custom.
They said "say La IIaha IIIa Allah,..
And pray, you'll go to Heaven."

 

[DJ.ROCKSTAR]

The enemy allies have converged on me,
incited their clansmen to muster strength;
They've invited their women and children to see,
and tied me to a solid trunk.
To Allah I complain of my loneliness and suffering;
Of enemies who surround me to rejoice at my death.
O Master of the Mighty Throne, grant me strength ,
To bear what they are doing to me;
Piercing my flesh and tearing my limbs.
They gave me a choice to turn away from Thee,
But death is preferrable to that;
That very thought of which brings tears to my eyes,
Not the pain they inflict on me.
I am not afraid of death, for some day everyone has to die;
But I shudder out of fear for the fire of Hell,
for the fury of its flames.
These limbs of mine are a sacrifice for Allah,
Hoping He'll bless every limb offered in His way.
So long I die a Muslim, I don't regret a thing,
For My death will occur in Allah's way.

 

[DJ.ROCKSTAR]

A woman was waiting at the airport one night,
With several long hours before her flight.
She hunted for a book in the airport shop,
Bought a bag of cookies and found a place to drop.

She was engrossed in her book, but happened to see,
That the man beside her, as bold as could be,
Grabbed a cookie or two from the bag between,
Which she tried to ignore to avoid a scene

She read, munched cookies, and watched the clock,
As the gustly "cookie thief" diminished her stock
She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by,
Thinking, "If I wasn't so nice, I'd blacken his eye!"

With each cookie she took, he took one too.
When only one was left, she wondered what he'd do.
with a smile on his face and a nervous laugh,
He took the last cookie and broke it in half.

He offered her half, and he ate the other.
She snatched it from him and thought, "Oh brother,
This guy has some nerve, and he's also so rude,
Why, he didn't even show any gratitude!"

She had never known when she had been so galled,
And sighed with relief when her flight was called.
She gathered her belongings and headed for the gate,
Refusing to look at the "thieving ingrate".

She boarded the plane and sank in her seat,
Then sought her book, which was almost complete.
As she reached in her baggage, she gasped with surprise.
There were her bag of cookies in front of her eyes!

"If mine are here," she moaned with despair.
"Then the others were his and he tried to share!"
Too late to apologize, she realized with grief,
That she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief!!!!

 

[DJ.ROCKSTAR]

Sometimes I think about
the moment of no doubt
the fate that reached every
tall short person
thin be he, or stout
when it came it just came

just like that
the intensity of the pain
unconcievable by the brain
they said it was like
70 swords aimed to strike
how can I bear that if
when only by a cut,
my arm will get so stiff
How will i act.....
What will I say....
I can't just run away
from facing that day
All I can do is Pray
to Allah everyday
in hope that he may
make it a simple day

I heard that some hallucinated
and from the pain
commited blasphemy
now.... I really won't like
that to happen to me
at least because
at that moment of pain
I'll be under so much strain
that caring about someone else
would be the least
Will I go to Janah
what my soul always desired?
or will I be sent
directly to the hellfire?
........just like that

My soul always tells me:
"No ,that won't happen to you....
you are a pious man
with a heart
overflown with Iman
Allah will spare you
from the pain"....

But how can that be true....
When the Prophet sent to you
better than you and him.....
peace be upon him
suffered these moments too
.....just like that

Or are you better than him?!?!?

So my advice for you
......and for me too
is to stick to The Book
sent by The Creator of man
(and every other thing)
The Holy Quran
and read a part daily ,
at least one chapter
this insha Allah
is good for the Hereafter
not only reading....
....understanding too
Quran and Sunnah ...
stick to these two

Is it too hard
to do that at once?
Well, ... and so is
... entering Paradise
So DO IT ........
that is my advice...
.....just like that

and pray for the person
who wrote this poem
so he won't be punished
..... just like that

Anonymous

 

[DJ.ROCKSTAR]

To A Non-Muslim Woman

When you look at me
All that you can see
is the scarf that covers my hair
My words you can't hear
because you're too full of fear,
mouth gaping, all you do is stare

You think it's not my choice
in your own "liberation" rejoice.
You think I'm uneducated,
trapped, oppressed and subjugated,
You're so thankful that you're free.

But non-Muslim woman you've got it wrong
You're the weak and I'm the strong.
For I've rejected the trap of man.
Fancy clothes - low neck, short skirt
those are devices for pain and hurt.
I'm not falling for that little plan.

I'm a person with ideas and thought.
I'm not for sale, I can't be bought.
I'm me - not a fancy toy,
I won't decorate anyone's arm,
nor be promoted for my charm.
There is more to be than playing coy.

Living life as a balancing game - mother,
daughter, wife, nurse, cleaner, cook, lover
and still bring home a wage.
Who thought up this modern "freedom"?
Where man can love'em and man can leave'em.
This is not free, but life in a cage.
Always jumping to a male agenda
competing on his terms.
No job share, no creche facilities,
no feeding and nappy changing amenities
No time off for menstrual pain,
"hormones" they laugh "what a shame"
No equal pay equal skill
your job they can always fill.
No promotion unless you're sterilised.
No promotion unless you're sexually terrorised.
And this is liberation?

Non-Muslim woman you can have your life.
Mine - it has less strife.
I cover and I get respected,
surely that's to be expected,
for I won't demean the feminine,
I won't live to male criterion,
I dance to my own tune
and I hope you see this very soon.
For your own sake - wake up and use your sight.
Are you so sure that you are right?

From a Muslim Woman

 

[DJ.ROCKSTAR]

I wonder........................

If Prophet Muhammad (SAW) visited you, just for a day or two
If he came unexpectedly, I wonder what you would do?
Oh I know you would give your nicest room,
to such an honored guest
And you would surely serve him, your very very best.

You would be your finest, cause you're glad to have him there
That serving him in you're home, would be a joy without compare.
But when you see him coming, would you meet him at the door
With your arms outstretched in welcome,
for your respected visitor.

Or would you run to change your clothes, before you let him in
And hide some magazines to put the Quran, where they had been?
Would you still watch those movies, on your TV set
Or would you switch it off, before he gets terribly upset.

Would you turn off the radio, and hope that he had not heard
And wish that you did not sing, that song word by word?
Would you hide your worldly things,
and instead take the Hadith books out
Could you let him walk right in, or would you rush about?

And I wonder...if the Prophet (SAW) spent, a day or two with you
Would you go on doing the things, that you always do?
Would you go right on and say the things, that you always say
Would life for you continue, as it does from day to day.

Would your family conversations, keep up their usual pace
And would you find it hard at each meal, to say a table grace?
Would you keep up each and every prayer,
without putting on a frown
And would you always jump up early, to say your Fajr at dawn?

Would you sing the songs you always sing,
and read the books you read
And let him know the things on which,
your mind and spirit feed?
Would you take the Prophet (SAW) with you,
everywhere you plan to go?
Or would you maybe change your plans, just for a day or so?

Would you be glad to have him meet, your very closest friends
Or, would you hope they stay away, until his visit ends?
Would you be glad to have him stay, forever on and on
Or would you sigh with great relief, when at last he has gone.

It might be interesting to know,
the things that you would really do
If Prophet Muhammad (SAW) came, to spend some time with you.

 

[DJ.ROCKSTAR]

Where is her grave?

The Muslims have been deeply pained.
Their beloved prophet has passed away.
And especially for his kith and kin,
it is one of their lives' saddest day.

A lady who happens to be his daughter,
above all, is the most afflicted one.
She was the nearest to her father.
Alas! Her troubles have just begun.

What in the Prophet's eyes was her status,
unfortunately the people shall forget.
She should be respected by all of us.
But a harsh treatment, she'll be met.

Everyone had heard her father say,
"My daughter is a part of me".
For her safety he would often pray;
Not wanting her to bear any agony.

But his words fell on deaf ears
as his followers were lead astray.
And were realized those worst fears,
because his tidings were disobeyed.

Each forthcoming day brings her sorrow
and only a few more months she'll live.
Each night she worries about her woes.
Her tormentors, she may not forgive.

In her last days, she is seen weeping.
Awake all night, she seldom sleeps.
Of her troubles, she keeps thinking.
The wounds in her heart are so deep.

The thoughts of her father alone
cause tears from her eyes to flow
and what will happen to her children?
What fate do they have in stow?

"Be kind to them and take care",
she wills about her poor children,
because she'll be no longer near
and they'll soon be orphans.

As she spends the time crying,
her neighbors come and complain.
But look! She is already dying.
Their complaint will be in vain.

And that dark moment finally comes,
for her heavenly abode, she departs.
Holding back their tears, her children,
see baba leaving with a heavy heart.

Hands trembling and with great anguish,
he takes away her coffin during the night.
And he makes sure to fulfill her last wish.
She will rest, out of everyones' sight.

Has gone from this world forever,
the mother of children so brave!
But why was she buried in a manner
that no one knows, where is her grave?

14th Jamadiul Awwal, 1413.

Sayyid Ali Rizwan Shah

 

[DJ.ROCKSTAR]

THE COLD WITHIN

Six humans trapped by circumstances,
in bleak and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood,
or so the story told.
Their dying fire in need of logs,
the first man held his back,
for,of the faces around the fire,
he noticed one man black.
The next man looking across the way,
saw one not of his church,
and couldn't bring himself
to give the fire his stick of birch.
The third one sat in tattered clothes
he gave his coat a hitch.
Why should his log be put to use,
to warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back
and thought of the wealth he had in store,
and how to keep what he had earned
from the lazy, shiftless poor.
The black man's face bespoke revenge
as the fire passed from his sight,
for all he saw in his stick of wood,
was a chance to spite the white.
The last man of this forlorn group
did naught except for gain,
giving only to those who gave,
was how he played the game.
Their logs held tight in death's still hand,
was proof of human sin.
They didn't die from the cold without,
they died from the cold within.

​