(2/9/2014 4:07:00 AM)
WHO IS POET
Who is the Poet
Poet is a different personality in the universe,
Whose voices come from soul
Not lip, throat, heart, brain....
Truly voice of the Almighty
And every voice is universal truth
Poet is not a part of any country, political parties and ism
Poet creates different universe and true-ism
And true leader, guide of the people in the universe.
ONLY FOR YOU
Known, nothing will be written about me
In any poem, story or essay
Known, will not receive any co-operation from Governments
Any honest or dishonest award...
Nobody will burn incense on the day of my death
Except my wife!
Nobody will celebrate my birthday
My birthday celebration will not happen...
Although I am walking...thinking...creating...
Only for You....Only for You...
Only for You...My dream future...
God And Woman (English & Bengali)
God And Woman
I did not want anything from The Almighty
Sacrificed untouchable realization
Which is symbol of myself
And dedicated emotions, silence.
I did not demand anything from the woman
Allowed her into the corner of my mind
Which is the center of bleeding
And presented my intuition.
The Almighty and the woman repeatedly call
Destruction in my lonely life
It's the ability to do more by them...
(2/8/2014 9:40:00 AM)
The full moon over Ayvalik
Translated from Uyghur by Abdusami Sadir
The shadow of the full moon over Ayvalik1
Is drifting on the Marmara Sea tonight.
It is dancing with the lively fish,
Singing praises of love!
On the opposite shore
I am subject to solitude.
With yesterday’s thoughts and feelings
Only adding to my sorrow and confusion.
This evening, which took shape before my eyes
and captivated me, is exhausted.
My heart is pierced by the wild feelings
Newly born within me tonight.
The moon-like siren at Ayvalik
Is singing on the Marmara Sea,
Urging me forward towards her.
From the closest shore to you
Cannot wait until you come,
So I catch your shadow and make a boat,
Wishing to set a-sail.
I wish to take you,
Onto my parched heart,
burning like fire in the Teklimakan.2
Have the pearl-like eyes in the sky
Made a place for you to stay?
Have the precious stones in the sea
Fallen down from you?
They are twinkling and cutting through the horizon,
On this mysterious night.
Together with the stars you become a torch,
A warship between the darkened clouds.
You are unmatched in this world
So I obey you in silence.
The night, which kisses the horizon,
Also pays homage to you.
The full moon over Ayvalik,
I have begun to recognise you now,
I have made a mark on you.
Have you been here before?
Have you come from my own distant sky?
From the nights of
And the six cities?7
You moon of mine…”
I wish to shout out with all my heart.
Born as a diver upon the beach of Ayvalik,
Questions have come to me and
I wish to find the answers:
A place in Turkestan,8 far from the sea,
Which saw you this very night.
Did you recognise the people from Ayköl?
Was darkness enshrouding Aydingköl?9
Were the dogs barking in Aqsu?10
When young men became martyrs in Lükchün,11
When vultures filled the evening skies of Yilqa,12
Were the doe which disappeared from Maralbéshi,13
Crying by the Tarim River?14
Full moon over Ayvalik,
Did you recognise on your trip today;
The people, who love the crescent moon and stars,
Who say: “We are not a white flag”?
Those who believe in Khan Tengri,15 which every evening
lays out like a white carpet onto your path?
And the Teklimakan,
A mystical place with an ocean of sand,
Capturing precisely your own reflected shape?
Since I have gone through so much
My feelings are rushed,
Moving in every direction.
The early arrival of God’s light
Adds sorrow to my peaceful heart.
It wishes to steal it away,
so drags the full moon over Ayvalik
away to the west!
Life continues as normal in the streets of Ayvalik,
The sound of Adhan16 in the loudspeakers,
Calling us to the morning prayer…
In the amusement arcades on the seafront
Foreign music is playing.
The barking of dogs,
The clucking of hens,
Sweethearts on the street corner being driven away.
Full moon over Ayvalik,
I am an artist tonight
So I shall paint on my heart
The shadows on the Marmara Sea.
My pen has drawn a chain to tie you to the ocean,
Yet the ink became blood and I scribbled you out,
Staining your face!
If you leave at this very moment,
Then I beg from you on your return
When you see the Teklimakan,
When you kiss the Tengri Mountains,
To bring greetings from your slave who loves you,
From this exiled Uyghur,
I was waiting for you in Ayvalik,
But is life really this romantic?
I cannot smile,
I do not even have a smile,
So how is it possible to force one?!
O, my moon…
The full moon over Ayvalik,
I shall never give up hope.
I shall never abandon my desire.
Through this night,
Through your light,
I am in love with you.
23rd August 2013
Read the original version of this poem in Uyghur language:
1. Ayvalik (Turkish: Ayvalik) is a sea-side town on the North-Eastern coast of Turkey.
2. The Teklimakan (Uyghur: ??????????) is the world’s second largest shifting-sand desert, located in the current Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, China.
3. Ayköl (Uyghur: ??????) is a town currently in Aqsu Prefecture, Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, China.
4. Aybagh (Uyghur: ??????) is a township currently in Awat County, Aqsu Prefecture, Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, China.
5. Küybagh (Uyghur: ??????) is a town currently in Poskam County, Kasghar Prefecture, Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, China.
6. Altay (Uyghur: ??????) is a city currently in Ili Kazakh Autonomous County, Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, China. This city is named after the Altay Mountain Range, which holds great symbolic meaning for the Turkic people of the region.
7. The ‘Six Oasis Cities’ (Uyghur: ????? ?????) is a traditional name for the major oases towns of the region, namely: Khotan, Yarkand, Kashgar, Üch-Turpan, Yengisar, and Aqsu.
8. Turkestan is a Persian word, literally meaning ‘Place of the Turks’. It refers to the cultural and linguistic sphere of the Turks, used generally to define the region of modern-day Turkic Central Asia.
9. Aydingköl (Uyghur: ?????????) meaning ‘Moonlit Lake’ is a lake, currently situated approximately 30km from Turpan City, Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, China.
10. Aqsu (Uyghur: ?????) is a major city and seat of the Aqsu Prefecture, currently in Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, China.
11. Lükchün (Uyghur: ??????) is a town currently in Pichan County, Turpan Prefecture, Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, China.
12. Yilqa (Uyghur: ???????) is a township currently in Kargilik County, Kashgar Prefecture, Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, China.
13. Maralbéshi (Uyghur: ?????????) is a county currently in Kashgar Prefecture, Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, China. Its name literally means ‘Doe’s Head’, hence the reference to the doe in the text.
14. The Tarim River (Uyghur: ????? ???????) is the main river of the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, China.
15. Khan Tengri (Uyghur: ????????) is one of the tallest mountains in the Tengritagh Mountain Range, situated between the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region, Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan. The name Tengri refers to a deity in Old Turkic and Mongolic belief, literally meaning ‘sky’.
16. Adhan (Arabic: ???????) is the Islamic call to worship, which is called out from mosques five times a day.
(2/7/2014 4:03:00 AM)
hey i just wanted to share a poem i written in class
its call " Midnight Skies"
The stars above gives glimmers of light
to the darkness of night
ripples paint the skies
beneath a river lies
and on its shore a city subsides
and set ablaze by city lights
but far from sight
stand two together
frail and fragile
they lean on each other
(2/7/2014 2:20:00 AM)
I find that certain structured rules of poetics confines, restricts and stifles the more purer imaginative forms from inspiration as it limits innovative originality. Of course not to do away with technicality but to take away the assumed academic expertise of what constitutes poetry for poetry cannot be constituted to only linear forms. As the inspiration comes from beyond its forms.
(2/4/2014 7:50:00 PM)
To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you and your private heart is true for all men, – that is genius. Speak your latent conviction, and it shall be the universal sense; for the inmost in due time becomes the outmost, and our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of the Last Judgment familiar as the voice of the mind is to each the highest merit we ascribe to Moses, Plato and Milton, it's that they set at naught books and traditions, and spoke not what men, but what they thought. A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the luster of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us on with a certain alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this. They teach us to abide by our own spontaneous impression with good-humored inflexibility then most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side. Else tomorrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and felt all the time, and we shall be forced to take with shame our own opinion from another.
A dose of reality I could have not expressed this any better than Emerson
(2/2/2014 12:28:00 PM)
| Read 1 reply
???? ??? - ?
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(2/1/2014 5:09:00 PM)
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hey can i have some tips on this poem i have made plz its called " your loved"
Laying there day and night
Not ever feeling happy or alright
You fake a smile for your family and friends
You make it look like a popular trend
All you want to do is cry and weep
And all you want is to be free
You get called names by people at school
So you made a blade a cutting tool
You used the blade on your skin
You wanted to destroy the pain from within
But I hope you know that your not alone
Call me by picking up the phone
Stop cutting with that horrible blade
No one wants you too fade
We all love you so very much
We all no you so we wont judgeReplies for this message:
(3/3/2014 12:36:00 AM)
The poem seems to have been written on someone you know so well, a school friend perhaps, who is depressed being subject to bullying or unkind behaviour. I appreciate your efforts at cheering him/her ... more
(2/8/2014 10:32:00 AM)
EMMA. A WONder ful poem successfully conveyed ur feeling. Please edit your poem. " to fade" not too fade it is because i read ur poem carefully. I AM NOT A CRITIC BUT A FRIEND. Thanks
- Khairul Ahsan (3/3/2014 12:36:00 AM) Post reply
(2/1/2014 3:09:00 PM)
meets ink it highlights,
little things that don't matter
society into rich or suffering,
oblivious all are the latter
confronted with random,
puzzle pieces to be connected
is like a jigsaw,
except the end result is the unexpected
Like a ripple,
on the surface
let unfold through us whats meant to be
waters below watches,
peacefully, true love is let free
by limits put on our existence
empty, engaged but
to perciece is our substance
Blindfolded we are,
in life, hidden from our eyes,
our pure true power within
That the world,
is just our mind
which creates, suffers from and plays in
And it drains,
our spirit that we dont
grasp with our fingers
on the door, control isn't gone,
yet anxiety lingers
we wont open,
conditioned to block
Out the light,
has always been the key to the lock
limitations on life,
minds came together and insisted
is short yet
time endless so we have barely existed
rules and regulations
to give life and death importance
use time and get
presumed born lacking self acceptance
regardless of the human
races, the planets great fatality
It is our
mind that keeps
on dreaming, circling this reality
involvement in ever
changing surroundings unrefused
within the already
present power and strength, confused
We keep on
living a dream we're unaware
we're in, sleeping is our waking
our known, is just us mistaking
isn't ours, each going
rouge fighting in battle alone
mind created when a path
was already laid out in stone
in the unknown, not the dream which is fake
all night then
to dream again, never choose to wake
forgetting the truth
inside that we have known
remember all in life,
all we become attached to or are shown
yet has already been and died
self is before,
time and space had its title, meaning or divide
love using our lives
here to express, engage and pursue
we and all life crave,
a unity and not to be split in two
(2/1/2014 3:11:00 AM)
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In my opinion, you need interaction to write powerful poems. This poem is in response to LP's poem 'Blowjob By The Tracks'. Whether this poem is autobiographical or not is a matter for creativity. One should never question the motive or the background for the poem. Just allow me to make a statement on this matter of 'paid love'. Men look for love in the most unlikely places, but women find it everywhere, and help themselves to it. Many might disagree, but such is my observation of the difference in the genders and their quest for that be-all of existence. If I can hold on to one thing before I go, I would choose that person who has shown me the utmost example of love - without boundaries and definitions, no commitments, no measures, just the pleasure of being together. If you have found such a person - hold this person tight, he/she is the one.
By: Doris F. Cornago
What do you know of love
Something that is peddled
As wares on a side street
by perfumed women in tights
and low cut bodices - their
dead eyes fastened on bread.
Or the course one takes
Upon seeing a new face
Meeting eyes in a crowded room
a nod of understanding
hurry out of the room
before somebody senses.
An excuse from boredom
A rubbing of flesh
A grapple, a cry of pain
She has mistaken you
for somebody more gentle
Now she is screaming poison.
We are strangers from start
we pretend we need love
to unmask others, make them
conform to the person we want
In our utter ignorance, love
turns from unmasking to deception.
Tawfeeq Hasan Khan
(1/30/2014 4:49:00 AM)
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I think that a poem should be like a dirty ocean whose depth cant be seen but can be felt only if you dive deep into it.