Long Shams Poems
Long Shams Poems. Below are the most popular long Shams by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shams poems by poem length and keyword.
The Fragrance of Love
The Fragrance of Love
To follow the scent of love next door.
I want to go away, for sure.
The way they took my "Shams" from me,
I don’t want to be me with me.
I don’t want to see the world as such,
full of sorrow and unjust too much.
I want to kiss the moon at night.
Seeing the scent of love with light.
I want to talk about colors and dyes.
Painting the world with less despise.
I want to bathe in rain and dew.
Immersing in love, renew.
I want to grant my heart with ease,
All of the love he needs to please
I want to be a man no more,
follow the scent of love next door.
7/29/2022 Haloo
"From deep within my heart
I always catch the scent
of my Beloved. How can I
help but follow that fragrance?" By Rumi
threads ripple across space
as you draw pictures with your cells
lotus in my belly moves toward arched feet
is your Sun strong enough for a flower
preferring shade?
.
an irresistible pull of nourishing amber
I finger its veins with broken skin
petals fall apart, skirmish dust
instantly swallowed by your dog
Rumi gives a foolish grin
for once not knowing his words
then dervishes with Shams and Desert Fox
I cannot draw his silk
as his eyes guide mine to spaces between unwritten lines
mountains show a path with rocks
rabbits, lizards —
with my pupils dissolving into yours
rooting lotus
a kind of weakness (...)
It came from a beloved book; the dream
Long lost, or so I thought,
which told: Go to your Turkey
and meet the Rumi in your dreams;
to complete his story; if I were the
story teller,destined,
for love comes from the strangest of places.
I hoped to make the dream come true.
'The Poet'* told me: Find the deserts
that hide within the city;
like the grief hidden beneath a happy face.
He wrote me a poem,with all blessings.
How I hold those poems dear!
But was it a feeling that came and left on its own?
For I no more find Turkey wherever I look.
And I am hopeless to go there;
and die before my Death.
May be Turkey is somewhere near
I just need time to find where.
"Even if I were the Shams,
where is the Rumi to see the beauty!"
Where the Boundaries disappear;
Timelessness creep in;
Names forgotten ;
and nothing but Love remains.
Upon there is my journey
and there lies my destination.
Please don't stop the beautiful dreams.
I am thirsty for more!
*
The poem was inspired from the reading of the book 'Forty Rules of Love' written
by Elif Shafak ,based on the beautiful story of the Sufi poet
Rumi and his beloved soulmate Shams of Thabriz. Suddenly I was too much into the words of Rumi,
to know him more and more. In a literary event, a poet wrote a short poem for me after we talked about dreams of visiting Turkey , Rumi and dervishes. The process was called busking.
Forever grateful for that poem 'Dreams of Desert'.
On my bed is a colorful quilt,
Not hand-made – it came from the store.
Each morning I lay it out, always the same;
It’s so simple, it’s not like a chore.
It has to be facing the way that I like,
Connecting green squares on the top.
The sides must be even and thus all around,
It will hang with the perfect-length drop.
The pillows are fluffed, each one touching the next,
And are topped with a match-the-quilt sham.
If you enter the room and expect something less,
Then you really don’t know who I am.
Unless – and it is an occurrence so rare,
There must be a good explanation –
My husband has made the bed, then you will note
It seems lacking in coordination.
The top of the quilt’s where the bottom should be;
The pillows are huddled behind it.
The shams block the headboard and there is my spouse,
Never suspecting I’d mind it.
To him, it looks great, though of course not the same,
But he claims he was being inventive;
While I like things to be just the way that I like –
I admit that I’m ****-retentive.
How you’re wired determines your preferences here;
I’m fanatic ‘bout how my bed’s looking.
So I told my husband, just leave it to me,
And stick to your forte, the cooking!
“Day dreams lay dead in dreams, but when life is breathed into them, they soar beyond the boundaries of success.”
— Poet
My dream is to be great in life,
That all I touch shall turn to gold,
And melt like butter on hot knife.
Thus my reward shall be tenfold,
Full of thriving, less of strife,
Grow finer, like a wine brewed old~
That buds find its rhythm in fife,
A belief I hold in heart bold.
So surprising it becomes,
When I dreamt this dream in dreams,
And dance to its beats on drums,
Then its true essence truly gleams,
And its true purpose it sums.
Its starkness guided by beams,
As if life's dreams are like ripe plums,
That come as easy as they seem,
Such that to no loss it succumbs.
True dreams are fulfilled in sleeps,
And not drowned in dwams' dams,
Where doubt constantly creeps,
To make dreams appear as shams,
Yet my life-dream still peeps
Through this life's tangled jams,
To a place no one weeps,
And free from dreams' logjams.
"The Mirror of Lost Sees: Theophany"
The You in me
possessor of knowledge
heir of the prophets
I Am, the friend of He
the me in You, waits patiently
watching you unveil in
the Mirror of Lost Sees
The Possessor of Unveiling
unseen You are in the mirror
walking corridors and highways
within Me, I Am
returning barefoot Home
walking on burning coals
set along the common road
by those warring brides
soap boxes set high and clean
competing saintly hypocrisy
religiously the learned scholars
look towards the Sun
for an unknown face
with one name
What burns inside
a body of limited time
hidden deep behind
the windows slowly opening
Truth sees watching soulfully
this is where the face is found
too bright to see
wrapped and shrouded
interred eternal
within You
I Am You
that I am
and You
are Me
Theophany
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"One day Rumi was reading next to a large stack of books. Shams Tabrizi, passing by, asked him, "What are you doing?" Rumi scoffingly replied, "Something you cannot understand." (This is knowledge that cannot be understood by the unlearned.) On hearing this, Shams threw the stack of books into a nearby pool of water. Rumi hastily rescued the books and to his surprise they were all dry. Rumi then asked Shams, "What is this?" To which Shams replied, "Mowlana, this is what you cannot understand." (This is knowledge that cannot be understood by the learned.)"
Indeed old is gold
and so's I'm told
Don't be in a hurry
to have all antiques sold
For this old adage
Todate water it holds.
Indeed the good old days
had some good old ways.
So I'd rather not
exchange
old lamps for new
lest I suffer as in
Aladdin's tale
and lose everything of
value.
For if I lose my old lamps
I haven't a genie to
restore my loss
Thus beware of
modernism's shams
Don't let 'change' be
your boss.
We should know what
best be preserved
So olden values are
granted the respect they
deserved.
For some 'olds' are such
pure golds
that like gold they never
fade nor catch moulds
Likewise some golden
traditions are real
treasures
that can't be left behind
to the past generation
in exchange for surface
new pleasures
For that would be soil,
oops nooh, soul and
culture erosion
Pray keep some olden
golden customs from
such corrosion!
Ah the old mores
they might seem such
bores
but it's they who make
the best folklores!
Change for the better,
not for the worst
Always assess and
analyze any new thing
first.
(my religion has time-
tested valuable time-old
values too.)
gold is old
and old is gold.
Oh beloved,
I'm like Rumi without Shams.
A shivering summer soul,
secretly stalked by wild white winter wolves.
A chiffon child chiselling chimerical calligraphy,
cursed with invisible ink, silent in sentimental sighs.
I've become the son of solitude,
tired from torture and torment,
descending like surreal sinking sunsets shaded in scarlet,
yearning for a dawn where we can blend like sunrise.
I have no desire to write, but you cut my veins to bleed.
What is pain without pleasure,
or a poet without his poetess?
Oh mistress of the night,
I'll forever wait for you to adorn my garden,
to finally inhale the fragrance of my roses.
I'm the oil lamp in all your blackness,
sometimes I may flicker like a candle,
but I will always reignite to create a spark.
The day you stop reading my musings,
my pen will forever slumber.
Oh daughter of darkness,
let me salvage your light, place it into your eyes.
Guide my quill to engrave upon your shores.
Together we will sail away from Satan's spawn.
I'll shield you from twilight's beasts,
protect you from demons with crimson claws,
emancipate your wings to fly from an illusionary island.
Because,
you love the moon, but it's the stars you gaze at,
hoping their stardust will illuminate your heart,
before they fade into nothingness.
Oh my seclusive sweetheart,
I will strum strings of serenity,
so you release tears of tranquillity.
I may not be the most handsome blossom,
nor the most popular prolific poet,
but I gift you my art and alliteration.
Some may say I'm romantic,
but I am no judge of what is exotic or poetic.
We can't put all our faith in petals and poetry.
I'm no emperor who deserves an enchanting empress,
merely a broken butterfly in your precious palms.
Life is an absent bride,
so I'm not afraid to bleed to death,
in the hope of soothing tomorrows.
Silent One
4 December 2022
4/8/17
Across the land
There was a man
Whose journey had just began
And due to a decision that was bad
He lost all that he ever had
While feeling his most prized plan
Slip through the palm of his hand
Faster than sand
He was briefly sad and mad
But then became glad
When he was able to understand
What was done wrong, and how he can
Reach the goal and help his clan
It wouldn't take a couple hundred grand
Or to be sponsored by a well known brand
Nearby a dam
His skills and knowledge started to expand
While starting to scan the entire span
Many insects scrammed
As well as a ram and a lamb
Above a stream filled with crab and clam
Far away parked in a lot was a sedan
And minivan
Nearby you could see an area full of water where many people swam
Whether they jumped in, walked or ran
Traffic jams
And braked being tapped or slammed
People only out to scam
With shams
Some content looking for gems and gold with or without a pan
And others only concerned with glam
Or famous people's and their own instagram
By:Dalton Ogletree
Yes, as flowers, we doth bloom and one day will fall.
This is how life is, one day, we will hear God’s final call.
So, while we are here and have God’s grace to be alive.
Do not try to destroy others, that is just offensive jive.
But being vain and wanting to appear popular and better,
Some brand others with their own form of a Scarlet Letter.
So popular they wanted to be, they become so disingenuous.
Meanwhile, forgetting, indeed, our lives are indeed, tenuous.
Read any portion of history, you will find wonderful people.
since time began
Yet, others, who presented themselves as perfect but were
hurtful and plain shams.
Live your life, so that eternity can be yours.
We cannot fool all others, they are far from demure!
Not one perfect human skates upon this planet,
But the pretense that they do, has Satan’s hoof marks upon it.