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Thread: English Poetry Competition October 2015

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    wink English Poetry Competition October 2015



    Welcome to the monthly Competition

    This month you will share POems of

    "Moon"


    Note:-

    Each member can share only one poetry
    Same and edited sharing won't be considered
    Winners would be decided by admins.
    Closing date of the competition is
    28
    October 2015
    صرف آواز نہیں ، لفظ بھی مقفل ہیں مرے

    سوچ میں ہوں کہ اب تجھ کو پکاروں کیسے

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    Forgotten.

    Lurking the right to bare witness
    What moonlight must I intake
    I raise my hand for my debate
    This night & day I long await.
    صرف آواز نہیں ، لفظ بھی مقفل ہیں مرے

    سوچ میں ہوں کہ اب تجھ کو پکاروں کیسے

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    In shadows’ veils, at end of night,
    sweet Moon removes her modest light
    and softly, yet again, exhales -
    at end of night, in shadows’ veils.

    As she departs, her love’s released
    to climb the stairway to the east.
    They cannot meet to share their hearts.
    Her love’s released as she departs.

    She watches him while hid from view,
    the way he kisses morning’s dew,
    and sees gold rays spill from his rim.
    While hid from view, she watches him.

    Sad Moon, alone for centuries,
    with awe has watched Sun leave, cerise.
    while she, afar. . . how cold she’s grown!
    For centuries, sad moon alone.

    She takes his place so he may rest.
    And though forlorn, she’s always dressed
    in lace, for Luna has great grace.
    So he may rest, she takes his place.

    For love of night, for love of day,
    she can’t implore him that he sway
    from course. To be apart’s their plight.
    For love of day, for love of night.










    By Andrea Dietrich
    Last edited by sarfraz_qamar; 04-10-2015 at 01:17 AM.





    تیری انگلیاں میرے جسم میںیونہی لمس بن کے گڑی رہیں
    کف کوزه گر میری مان لےمجھے چاک سے نہ اتارنا

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    Walaikum Assalaam

    Yeh again a lovely 'topic', thank you.

    A lot said about MOON.... but I am particulary impressed with the writing skill of the poet 'Mathlide Blind' who wrote the following poem... its a long poem but worth reading if read with passion.....

    he sunset melts upon the Nile,
    The stony desert glows,
    Beneath heaven's universal smile,
    One burning damask rose;
    And like a Peri's pearly boat,
    No longer than a span,
    Look, faint on fiery sky afloat,
    The Moon of Ramadân.

    Our boat drifts idly with the Stream,
    Our boatmen ship the oar;
    Vistas of endless temples gleam
    On either topaz shore;
    And swimming over groves of Palm,
    A crescent weak and wan,
    There steals into the perfect calm
    The Moon of Ramadân.

    All nature seems to bask in peace
    And hush her lowest sigh;
    Above the river's golden fleece
    The happy Halcyons fly.
    And lost in some old lotos dream,
    The pensive Pelican
    Sees mirrored in the mazy stream
    The Moon of Ramadân.

    Black outlined on the golden air
    A turbaned Silhouette,
    The Mueddin invites to prayer
    From many a Minaret.
    Our dusky boatmen hear the call,
    And prostrate, man on man,
    They bow, adoring, one and all,
    The Moon of Ramadân.

    Where Luxor's rose-flushed columns shine
    Above the river's brim,
    The priests with incense once, and wine,
    Made sacrifice to Him,
    The highest god of Thebes, and head
    Of all the heavenly clan;
    But now the Moslem hails instead
    The Moon of Ramadân.

    The gods have come, the gods have gone,
    Yet wedded to their walls,
    Winged with the serpent of the Sun
    In mute processionals,
    They stride from door to massy door,
    Bound nations in their van,
    Though Amon's Sun has waned before
    The Moon of Ramadân.

    Yea, even proud Egypt's proudest king,
    Who chastised rebel lands,
    And brought his gods for offering
    Mountains of severed hands;
    Who singly, like a god of War,
    Smote hosts that swerved and ran,
    Lies low 'neath Allah's scimetar--
    The Moon of Ramadân.

    And Isis, Queen, whose sacred disk's
    Horned splendour crowned her brow,
    While fires of flashing Obelisks
    Flamed in the Afterglow;
    And white-robed priests who served her shrine
    Have turned Mahommedan,
    And worship Him who wears for sign
    The Moon of Ramadân.

    The rosy lotos, flower and leaf,
    Which wreathed each sacred lake,
    With Nature's loveliest bas-relief,
    Has followed in their wake;
    Yea, with the last true Pharaoh's death,
    The lotos leaves, grown wan,
    Have changed to lily white beneath
    The Moon of Ramadân.

    The gods may come, the gods may go,
    And royal realms change hands;
    But the most ancient Nile will flow,
    And flood the desert sands;
    And nightly will he glass the stars'
    Unearthly caravan,
    Nor care if it be Rome's red Mars
    Or Moon of Ramadân.

    The sunset fades upon the Nile;
    The desert's stony gloom,
    Receding blankly mile on mile,
    Grows silent as a tomb.
    All weary wanderers, man and beast,
    Hie, fasting, to the Khan,
    While shines above their nightly feast
    The Moon of Ramadân.


    The Moon Of Ramadân
    Mathilde Blind

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    REAL FINAL NOCTURNES MOON text e1296242441170 - English Poetry Competition October 2015


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    صرف آواز نہیں ، لفظ بھی مقفل ہیں مرے

    سوچ میں ہوں کہ اب تجھ کو پکاروں کیسے

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