Tag Archives: EMOTIONAL POETRY

Flower Of Love – Poem by Oscar Wilde

Flower Of Love – Poem by Oscar Wilde

Sweet, I blame you not, for mine the fault was, had I not been made of common
clay
I had climbed the higher heights unclimbed yet, seen the fuller air, the
larger day.

From the wildness of my wasted passion I had struck a better, clearer song,
Lit some lighter light of freer freedom, battled with some Hydra-headed wrong.

Had my lips been smitten into music by the kisses that but made them bleed,
You had walked with Bice and the angels on that verdant and enamelled meed.

I had trod the road which Dante treading saw the suns of seven circles shine,
Ay! perchance had seen the heavens opening, as they opened to the Florentine.

And the mighty nations would have crowned me, who am crownless now and without
name,
And some orient dawn had found me kneeling on the threshold of the House of
Fame.

I had sat within that marble circle where the oldest bard is as the young,
And the pipe is ever dropping honey, and the lyre’s strings are ever strung.

Keats had lifted up his hymeneal curls from out the poppy-seeded wine,
With ambrosial mouth had kissed my forehead, clasped the hand of noble love in
mine.

And at springtide, when the apple-blossoms brush the burnished bosom of the
dove,
Two young lovers lying in an orchard would have read the story of our love;

Would have read the legend of my passion, known the bitter secret of my heart,
Kissed as we have kissed, but never parted as we two are fated now to part.

For the crimson flower of our life is eaten by the cankerworm of truth,
And no hand can gather up the fallen withered petals of the rose of youth.

Yet I am not sorry that I loved you -ah! what else had I a boy to do? –
For the hungry teeth of time devour, and the silent-footed years pursue.

Rudderless, we drift athwart a tempest, and when once the storm of youth is
past,
Without lyre, without lute or chorus, Death the silent pilot comes at last.

And within the grave there is no pleasure, for the blindworm battens on the
root,
And Desire shudders into ashes, and the tree of Passion bears no fruit.

Ah! what else had I to do but love you? God’s own mother was less dear to me,
And less dear the Cytheraean rising like an argent lily from the sea.

I have made my choice, have lived my poems, and, though youth is gone in
wasted days,
I have found the lover’s crown of myrtle better than the poet’s crown of bays. 

BY: OSCAR WILDE

MY GHAZAL “ACHCHHEY WAQT KI KHAATIR” (FOR THE SAKE OF GOOD TIME)

Ghazal Title:-“Achchhey Waqt Ki Khaatir”

 

Apney Kal Ko sanwaarne ke liye Apna Aaj Bigaadna Padta hai,

Achchhey Waqt ki Khatir Pehle Bura waqt Guzaarna Padta hai.

 

Yun to Jeeti Jaati hai Jung Koi Jeetne se hi,

par Aksar Badi Jung Jeetne Ke liye Pehle Haarna Padta hai.

 

Yun hi Nahin Poori Hoti zindagi ki Har Khwaish Kisi ki,

Iske liye Na jaane kaisi kaisi khwaishon ko pehle Maarna Padta hai.

 

Aisey hi Nahin chadta Kaamyaabi Ki Seedhiyaan Koi,

Iske liye pehle Apney Ghuroor ko Nechey Utaarna Padta hai.

 

Gar ban rahin ho Rukawat kuchh purani yadein raah me kabhi,

To un Yaadon ke Pannon Ko pehle Phaadna Padta hai.

 

Yun hi Nahin chhalakta Dard ‘Aatif’ Ki Ghazlon se koi,

Iske liye Pehle KuredKar Zakhmon ko Apney Ubhaarna Padta hai.

 

a Ghazal Composed By Syed Sabah ur Rehman-Aatif

My English Poetry:-O! GOD NOW COME ON THE EARTH

TITLE:- O! GOD NOW COME ON THE EARTH

 

Understanding Today’s world is Arduous Task,

Like Filling water in the Broken Flask.

What were we and what we are,

All emotional Relations are Shifting Far.

 

Sentiments & sacrifices are mere words

They seem to be as we have Never heard

God has created us to survive,

but we are vandalising each other’s lives

 

who shed Tears is indeed the faulter,

as,it is nothing but just salted water.

Ecstasy is Altering in to Embarrassment,

No flower can Bloom in venomous Environment.

 

O! God now please stop taking our test,

come on the earth and abolish the tempest.

A poetry Composed by Syed Sabah ur Rehman-‘Aatif’