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Thread: Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

  1. #1
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    wink Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

    Hi every1 /helo1

    Now you can vote for your fav sharing



    Rules:

    You can only vote once

    You cannot vote for your sharing as it will NOT be counted

    Last date is 28 June.

  2. #2
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    Default Re: Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

    naz



    LOVE'S SECRET

    by: William Blake (1757-1827)

    NEVER seek to tell thy love,
    Love that never told can be;
    For the gentle wind doth move
    Silently, invisibly.

    I told my love, I told my love,
    I told her all my heart,
    Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
    Ah! she did depart!

    Soon after she was gone from me,
    A traveller came by,
    Silently, invisibly:
    He took her with a sigh.



    Paras



    He who binds to himself a joy
    Does the winged life destroy;
    But he who kisses the joy as it flies
    Lives in eternity's sun rise.




    Arslan



    TO SPRING



    THOU with dewy locks, who lookest down
    Through the clear windows of the morning, turn
    Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
    Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!

    The hills tell one another, and the listening
    Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turn'd
    Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth
    And let thy holy feet visit our clime!

    Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
    Kiss thy perfumd garments; let us taste
    Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
    Upon our lovesick land that mourns for thee.

    O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
    Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
    Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head,
    Whose modest tresses are bound up for thee.


    by: William Blake

  3. #3
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    Default Re: Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

    seven tiles



    LAUGHING SONG
    a poem by William Blake

    When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
    And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
    When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
    And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;


    When the meadows laugh with lively green,
    And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,
    When Mary and Susan and Emily
    With their sweet round mouths sing "Ha, ha he!"


    When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
    Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:
    Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
    To sing the sweet chorus of "Ha, ha, he!"




    Mishaal



    A POISON TREE
    by: William Blake (1757-1827)
    WAS angry with my friend:
    I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
    I was angry with my foe:
    I told it not, my wrath did grow.

    And I watered it in fears,
    Night and morning with my tears;
    And I sunnd it with smiles,
    And with soft deceitful wiles.

    And it grew both day and night,
    Till it bore an apple bright;
    And my foe beheld it shine,
    And he knew that it was mine,

    And into my garden stole,
    When the night had veiled the pole:
    In the morning glad I see
    My foe outstretched beneath the tree.




    RaNiI


    A Little Girl Lost

    Children of the future age,
    Reading this indignant page,
    Know that in a former time
    Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.

    In the age of gold,
    Free from winter's cold,
    Youth and maiden bright,
    To the holy light,
    Naked in the sunny beams delight.

    Once a youthful pair,
    Filled with softest care,
    Met in garden bright
    Where the holy light
    Had just removed the curtains of the night.

    Then, in rising day,
    On the grass they play;
    Parents were afar,
    Strangers came not near,
    And the maiden soon forgot her fear.

    Tired with kisses sweet,
    They agree to meet
    When the silent sleep
    Waves o'er heaven's deep,
    And the weary tired wanderers weep.

    To her father white
    Came the maiden bright;
    But his loving look,
    Like the holy book
    All her tender limbs with terror shook.

    'Ona, pale and weak,
    To thy father speak!
    Oh the trembling fear!
    Oh the dismal care
    That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!'
    William Blake

  4. #4
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    Default Re: Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

    Zindagi



    The Sick Rose - poem by illiam Blake

    O Rose thou art sick.
    The invisible worm.
    That flies in the night
    In the howling storm:

    Has found out thy bed
    Of crimson joy:
    And his dark secret love
    Does thy life destroy.
    The Sick Rose



    O.o Ashi o.O



    A DREAM

    I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
    And that I was a maiden Queen
    Guarded by an Angel mild:
    Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!

    And I wept both night and day,
    And he wiped my tears away
    And I wept both day and night,
    And hid from him my heart's delight.

    So he took his wings, and fled;
    Then the morn blushed rosy red.
    I dried my tears, and armed my fears
    With ten-thousand shields and spears.

    Soon my Angel came again
    I was armed, he came in vain
    For the time of youth was fled
    And grey hairs were on my head.



  5. #5
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    Default Re: Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

    g0rge0us_g!rL


    THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
    by: William Blake (1757-1827)

    mY mother bore me in the southern wild,
    And I am black, but O, my soul is white!
    White as an angel is the English child,
    But I am black, as if bereaved of light.
    My mother taught me underneath a tree,
    And, sitting down before the heat of day,
    She took me on her lap and kissd me,
    And, pointing to the East, began to say:
    'Look at the rising sun: there God does live,
    And gives His light, and gives His heat away,
    And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive Comfort in morning,
    joy in the noonday.
    'And we are put on earth a little space,
    That we may learn to bear the beams of love;
    And these black bodies and this sunburnt face
    Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
    'For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear,
    The cloud will vanish, we shall hear His voice,
    Saying, "Come out from the grove, my love and care,
    And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice."'
    Thus did my mother say, and kissd me,
    And thus I say to little English boy.
    When I from black and he from white cloud free,
    And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,
    I'll shade him from the heat till he can bear
    To lean in joy upon our Father's knee;
    And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
    And be like him, and he will then love me.




    Rabi



    TO THE EVENING STAR
    by: William Blake (1757-1827)
    THOU fair-hair'd angel of the evening,
    Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains,
    light
    Thy bright torch of love;
    thy radiant crown
    Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
    Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest the
    Blue curtains of the sky,
    scatter thy silver dew
    On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
    In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
    The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
    And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
    Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
    And then the lion glares through the dun forest:
    The fleeces of our flocks are cover'd with
    Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence!





    shaan




    BROKEN LOVE

    MY Spectre around me night and day
    Like a wild beast guards my way;
    My Emanation far within
    Weeps incessantly for my sin.

    ‘A fathomless and boundless deep,
    There we wander, there we weep;
    On the hungry craving wind
    My Spectre follows thee behind.

    ‘He scents thy footsteps in the snow
    Wheresoever thou dost go,
    Thro’ the wintry hail and rain.
    When wilt thou return again?

    ’Dost thou not in pride and scorn
    Fill with tempests all my morn,
    And with jealousies and fears
    Fill my pleasant nights with tears?

    ‘Seven of my sweet loves thy knife
    Has bereavd of their life.
    Their marble tombs I built with tears,
    And with cold and shuddering fears.

    ‘Seven more loves weep night and day
    Round the tombs where my loves lay,
    And seven more loves attend each night
    Around my couch with torches bright.

    ‘And seven more loves in my bed
    Crown with wine my mournful head,
    Pitying and forgiving all
    Thy transgressions great and small.

    ‘When wilt thou return and view
    My loves, and them to life renew?
    When wilt thou return and live?
    When wilt thou pity as I forgive?’

    ‘O’er my sins thou sit and moan:
    Hast thou no sins of thy own?
    O’er my sins thou sit and weep,
    And lull thy own sins fast asleep.

    ‘What transgressions I commit
    Are for thy transgressions fit.
    They thy harlots, thou their slave;
    And my bed becomes their grave.

    ‘Never, never, I return:
    Still for victory I burn.
    Living, thee alone I’ll have;
    And when dead I’ll be thy grave.

    ‘Thro’ the Heaven and Earth and Hell
    Thou shalt never, quell:
    I will fly and thou pursue:
    Night and morn the flight renew.’

    ‘Poor, pale, pitiable form
    That I follow in a storm;
    Iron tears and groans of lead
    Bind around my aching head.

    ‘Till I turn from Female love
    And root up the Infernal Grove,
    I shall never worthy be
    To step into Eternity.

    ‘And, to end thy cruel mocks,
    Annihilate thee on the rocks,
    And another form create
    To be subservient to my fate.

    ‘Let us agree to give up love,
    And root up the Infernal Grove;
    Then shall we return and see
    The worlds of happy Eternity.

    ‘And throughout all Eternity
    I forgive you, you forgive me.
    As our dear Redeemer said:
    “This the Wine, and this the Bread.”’

    William Blake


  6. #6
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    Default Re: Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

    voted..........
    Alhamdullilah

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    Default Re: Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

    voted
    tumblr na75iuW2tl1rkm3u0o1 500 - Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

    Hum kya hain

    Hmari Muhabatayn kya hain
    kya chahtay hain
    kya patay hain..

    -Umera Ahmad (Peer-e-Kamil)


  8. #8
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    Default Re: Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

    voted
    صرف آواز نہیں ، لفظ بھی مقفل ہیں مرے

    سوچ میں ہوں کہ اب تجھ کو پکاروں کیسے

  9. #9
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    Default Re: Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

    voted

  10. #10
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    Default Re: Polling 4 English Poetry Competition June 2010

    voted




    Yahi Dastoor-E-ulfat Hai,Nammi Ankhon,
    Mein Le Kar Bhi,

    Sabhi Se Kehna Parta Hai,K Mera Haal,
    Behter Hai...!!


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