Tag Archives: Destiny

Rumi’s Poetry


More simply known as Rumi, his poetry was mostly written in Persian but popularized in many languages including English. I recently read The Love Poems of Rumi published in the United States in 2015. This collection was translated by world-renowned Iranian-American architect Nader Khalili, who was also an author and humanitarian and teacher.

Before then I had come across some of his poems and quotes which impressed me greatly. The love poems connect expressions of deep emotion to the very soul of the poet. Rumi’s full name is Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Balkhī  which is a mouth full but I was intrigued why Rumi is most popular. Rumi’s birthday is commemorated on September 30.

Here is one of his poems from the collection:

Come Let’s Speak

Come let’s speak

of our souls

let’s even hide from

our ears and eyes

like a rose garden

always keep a smile

like imagination

talk without a sound

like the spirit

reigning the world

telling the secrets

uttering no word

let’s get away from

all the clever humans

who put words in our mouth

let’s only say what our hearts desire

even our hands and feet

sense every inner move

let’s keep silence

but make our hearts move

the mystery of destiny

know the life of

speck after speck of dust

let’s tell our story

as particle of dust

Found Poem # 3 – Truth


As promised I will continue to write Found Poems. Please note the attributions.

 

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She reaches up to wash the sky with pale blue

so it will be ready when you need it

Exploring the world within

Is only possible when you are true

the poet said to thyself be true

 

In the corners of my mind,

I watch the clouds move in

Hoping for the cleansing rain they might bring

We need truth to prevail

Clean and fresh to drench our souls

With aromas real and natural

Not the alternatives, no , no

 

We have to learn quiet again

All of us in unison

Still and determined

To reach up and paint a sun filled sky

And not forget to ask, “Why?”

 

Attributes

https://thecheesesellerswife.wordpress.com/

https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/70181445/posts/4420

https://patcegan.wordpress.com/2017/01/28/growing-courage/

https://patcegan.wordpress.com/2017/01/28/our-unknown/

https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/53424024/posts/20163

https://jeffschwaner.com/2016/11/26/conversations-i/

 

 

 

Existence


Blue Ecstacy

Existence

Where we are

by far

defines our existence.

But where are we really?

Are we here, in the now, in the present?

Or are we not in existence?

Are we in our own imagination?

A figment?

I like to think I am

inside this painting;

going around in circles

without a worry,

the universe embracing me

until I become a wave.

A Love Poem Found in the Attic


A dried rose

marks the place

in her poem book

where underlined

verses were once

read aloud

by a lover

no one knew

her secret then

only the rose

he gave her

one sweet day in spring

the rose was once deep crimson

before it became imprisoned

the verses spoke of an infinite love

of a passion so intense,

as immense as the sea

and blue as the sky above

and now on another

beautiful day in spring

roses bloom to remind her

only a memory survives.

 

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Photo by Melba Christie (c) 2012

 

 

 

I thought this was my life


I thought this was my life
but I was so wrong
the pictures on the wall always tell the truth

but the mirror in my hand never lies
we all know how time flies

I thought this was my life
but I was so wrong
it belonged to others all along

I thought this was my life
but I was wrong
As I begin a new journey
I must be strong

I thought this was my life
but I was wrong
I see another me

A future not foretold
life has just begun
A fulfilled destiny
of new memories have sprung

I feel my life’s a world wind
spinning round and round
hoping to stop
where destinations can be found

I thought this was my life
but I was so wrong
a new lease has been issued
with no expiration date
because I finally learned
to live without the threat of fate.

longlife

 

Is There A Reason for Everything?


It looks like
there is
and will always be
a reason
for everything.

It makes sense to me now.
I just wish
It wasn’t so easy,
because when I think of
the reasons why bad things
have happened
I’d rather not
have a justification
or know the why sometimes.

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but the thing is
that
it is what it is
and what it is, just is.

It cannot be


 

As life gets a little older

I think about the things

that could have been

then I think about the things

that cannot be

and all the times I said,

it cannot be in a dream

and sometimes in a scream

of disbelief

I knew that

it cannot be

that we are free

to decide our destiny

 

life’s  many thiefs

steal away

right underneath your nose

the joy that could have been

 

it cannot be that it’s impossible

it cannot be that I have been so weak

it cannot be that I had rather not speak

it cannot be that I forgot how to be me

it cannot be it cannot be

this is my destiny

 

 

 

 

A Call for Certainty


“All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name.”
“What’s in a name?”
A name possesses a soul of its own
A soul does not leave the body until it garners enough love
For eternity to judge its worth

My heart hankers for peace if that is what it is called
Because sometimes it seems what we have entitled it
does not truly claim or maintain it,
“Peace is not a season but a way of life.”

“All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name.”
Am I to blame for such uncertainty?
A longing for something so elusive,
So exclusive
That not even my brain can perceive
Or receive
“What is in a name, I asked my muse.”
“All my life, my heart has longed for a thing I could not name.”

Will my desire be the refrain?

Unique Destiny


The purpose of a unique destiny

can only be defined

by the free flight of a butterfly

It will lead you to the path

you never knew you had chosen.

Someone had a unique plan for you

and one for me too.

The blueprint is clear

This is why the hummingbird hovers

over all red flowers

This is why you allow the moon to follow you

around on a summer night

This is why poets love the truth

This is why an eagle takes fight

This is why our bodies are pollen

and generations blossom.

This is why I am what I am.

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NaBo11_d60_2460a (Photo credit: jerryoldenettel)