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Thread: English Poetry Comp Of December 2013

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    snow English Poetry Comp Of December 2013



    Is Month App Sab Ne
    pablo neruda Ke Poetry Share Karne Hain..
    Sab KI Sharings ka Intezar Rahega,,

    Rules..


    Each member can share only one quotation.
    Same and edited sharing won't be considered.
    Winners would be decided by the 50% poll and 50% by admins.
    Closing date of the competition is 20th December 2013




    3297731y763i7owcz zps9ed156a3 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 2013

    MAY OUR COUNTRY PROGRESS IN EVERYWHERE AND IN EVERYTHING SO THAT THE WHOLE WORLD SHOULD HAVE PROUD ON US
    PAKISTAN ZINDABAD











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    *jamshed*'s Avatar
    *jamshed* is offline کچھ یادیں ،کچھ باتیں
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    Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon,
    dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,
    what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?
    What primal night does Man touch with his senses?
    Ay, Love is a journey through waters and stars,
    through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
    Love is a war of lightning,
    and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
    Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
    your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
    and a genital fire, transformed by delight,
    slips through the narrow channels of blood
    to precipitate a nocturnal carnation,
    to be, and be nothing but light in the dark.
    کہاں اتنی سزائیں تھیں بھلا اس زندگانی میں
    ہزاروں گھر ہوئے روشن جو میرا دل جلا محسنؔ


  3. #3
    Cute PaRi's Avatar
    Cute PaRi is offline ♥Häppïnëss ïs Süċċëss♥
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    Bird

    birds28 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 2013
    It was passed from one bird to another,
    the whole gift of the day.
    The day went from flute to flute,
    went dressed in vegetation,
    in flights which opened a tunnel
    through the wind would pass
    to where birds were breaking open
    the dense blue air -
    and there, night came in.

    When I returned from so many journeys,
    I stayed suspended and green
    between sun and geography -
    I saw how wings worked,
    how perfumes are transmitted
    by feathery telegraph,
    and from above I saw the path,
    the springs and the roof tiles,
    the fishermen at their trades,
    the trousers of the foam;
    I saw it all from my green sky.
    I had no more alphabet
    than the swallows in their courses,
    the tiny, shining water
    of the small bird on fire
    which dances out of the pollen.


    Pablo Neruda





    paspayi2 zps86d6ac40 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 2013

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    b3r4v6 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 2013Loveb3r4v6 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 2013

    Because of you, in gardens of blossoming
    Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
    I have forgotten your face, I no longer
    Remember your hands; how did your lips
    Feel on mine?

    Because of you, I love the white statues
    Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that
    Have neither voice nor sight.

    I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
    I have forgotten your eyes.

    Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to
    My vague memory of you. I live with pain
    That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
    Make to me an irreperable harm.

    Your caresses enfold me, like climbing
    Vines on melancholy walls.

    I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to
    Glimpse you in every window.

    Because of you, the heady perfumes of
    Summer pain me; because of you, I again
    Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
    Shooting stars, falling objects.



    (Pablo neruda)

    animals1 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 2013

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    candel Photobucket

    I want you to know
    one thing.

    You know how this is:
    if I look
    at the crystal moon, at the red branch
    of the slow autumn at my window,
    if I touch
    near the fire
    the impalpable ash
    or the wrinkled body of the log,
    everything carries me to you,
    as if everything that exists,
    aromas, light, metals,
    were little boats
    that sail
    toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

    Well, now,
    if little by little you stop loving me
    I shall stop loving you little by little.

    If suddenly
    you forget me
    do not look for me,
    for I shall already have forgotten you.

    If you think it long and mad,
    the wind of banners
    that passes through my life,
    and you decide
    to leave me at the shore
    of the heart where I have roots,
    remember
    that on that day,
    at that hour,
    I shall lift my arms
    and my roots will set off
    to seek another land.

    But
    if each day,
    each hour,
    you feel that you are destined for me
    with implacable sweetness,
    if each day a flower
    climbs up to your lips to seek me,
    ah my love, ah my own,
    in me all that fire is repeated,
    in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
    my love feeds on your love, beloved,
    and as long as you live it will be in your arms
    without leaving mine



    By: Pablo Neruda
    2v1u8md - English Poetry Comp Of  December 2013

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    1288769qmyartywm2 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 20131288769qmyartywm2 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 20131288769qmyartywm2 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 20131288769qmyartywm2 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 2013I Like For You To Be Still



    I like for you to be still
    It is as though you are absent
    And you hear me from far away
    And my voice does not touch you
    It seems as though your eyes had flown away
    And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth
    As all things are filled with my soul
    You emerge from the things
    Filled with my soul
    You are like my soul
    A butterfly of dream
    And you are like the word: Melancholy

    I like for you to be still
    And you seem far away
    It sounds as though you are lamenting
    A butterfly cooing like a dove
    And you hear me from far away
    And my voice does not reach you
    Let me come to be still in your silence
    And let me talk to you with your silence
    That is bright as a lamp
    Simple, as a ring
    You are like the night
    With its stillness and constellations
    Your silence is that of a star
    As remote and candid

    I like for you to be still
    It is as though you are absent
    Distant and full of sorrow
    So you would've died
    One word then, One smile is enough
    And I'm happy;
    Happy that it's not true

    Pablo Neruda

    1288769qmyartywm2 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 20131288769qmyartywm2 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 20131288769qmyartywm2 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 20131288769qmyartywm2 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 2013


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    Death Alone

    There are lone cemeteries,
    tombs full of soundless bones,
    the heart threading a tunnel,
    a dark, dark tunnel :
    like a wreck we die to the very core,
    as if drowning at the heart
    or collapsing inwards from skin to soul.

    There are corpses,
    clammy slabs for feet,
    there is death in the bones,
    like a pure sound,
    a bark without its dog,
    out of certain bells, certain tombs
    swelling in this humidity like lament or rain.

    I see, when alone at times,
    coffins under sail
    setting out with the pale dead, women in their dead braids,
    bakers as white as angels,
    thoughtful girls married to notaries,
    coffins ascending the vertical river of the dead,
    the wine-dark river to its source,
    with their sails swollen with the sound of death,
    filled with the silent noise of death.

    Death is drawn to sound
    like a slipper without a foot, a suit without its wearer,
    comes to knock with a ring, stoneless and fingerless,
    comes to shout without a mouth, a tongue, without a throat.
    Nevertheless its footsteps sound
    and its clothes echo, hushed like a tree.

    I do not know, I am ignorant, I hardly see
    but it seems to me that its song has the colour of wet violets,
    violets well used to the earth,
    since the face of death is green,
    and the gaze of death green
    with the etched moisture of a violet's leaf
    and its grave colour of exasperated winter.

    But death goes about the earth also, riding a broom
    lapping the ground in search of the dead -
    death is in the broom,
    it is the tongue of death looking for the dead,
    the needle of death looking for the thread.

    Death lies in our beds :
    in the lazy mattresses, the black blankets,
    lives a full stretch and then suddenly blows,
    blows sound unknown filling out the sheets
    and there are beds sailing into a harbour
    where death is waiting, dressed as an admiral.

    Pablo Neruda



    دل اگر بے نقاب ھوتے

    تو سوچو..! کتنے فساد ھوتے




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    snow In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud

    In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud

    In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
    and your form and colour are the way I love them.
    You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
    and in your life my infinite dreams live.

    The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
    the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
    oh reaper of my evening song,
    how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

    You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
    wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
    Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder
    stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

    You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
    and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
    My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
    In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.
    <img src=http://sachiidosti.com/forum/signaturepics/sigpic15892_14.gif border=0 alt=sigpic15892 14 - English Poetry Comp Of  December 2013  title=English Poetry Comp Of  December 2013  onload=NcodeImageResizer.createOn(this); />

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    Don't Go Far Off

    Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
    because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
    and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
    when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

    Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
    then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
    the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
    into me, choking my lost heart.

    Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
    may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
    Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

    because in that moment you'll have gone so far
    I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
    Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?


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    Always


    I am not jealous
    of what came before me.

    Come with a man
    on your shoulders,
    come with a hundred men in your hair,
    come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet,
    come like a river
    full of drowned men
    which flows down to the wild sea,
    to the eternal surf, to Time!

    Bring them all
    to where I am waiting for you;
    we shall always be alone,
    we shall always be you and I
    alone on earth,
    to start our life!




    Pablo Neruda




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