Some Kiss We Want ~ Poetry by Rumi

kiss

There is some kiss we want with
our whole lives, the touch of
spirit on the body.

Seawater
begs the pearl to break its shell.

And the lily, how passionately
it needs some wild darling!

At night, I open the window and ask
the moon to come and press its
face against mine.

Breathe into me.

Close the language-door and
open the love window.
The moon
won’t use the door, only the window.
–Rumi. Translator: Coleman Barks

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Someone Should Start Laughing ~ Poetry by Hafiz

laughing-buddha-maitreyaSomeone Should Start Laughing

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:

How are you?

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:

What is God?

If you think that the Truth can be known
From words,

If you think that the Sun and the Ocean

Can pass through that tiny opening
Called the mouth,

O someone should start laughing!

Someone should start wildly Laughing –
Now!

Poem from: “I Heard God Laughing: Renderings of Hafiz”

Stop Being So Religious ~ Poem by Hafiz

Art by Robert Sturman of Brian aganad on the beach doing yogaStop Being So Religious

What

Do sad people have in

Common?

It seems

They have all built a shrine

To the past

And often go there

And do a strange wail and

Worship.

What is the beginning of

Happiness?

It is to stop being

So religious

Like That.

(“The Gift” – versions of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky)

Art work of Brian Aganad from the ‘Poetry of the Gods’ collection by artist Robert Sturman

The Grasp of Your Hand

The Grasp Of Your Hand

Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,
but to be fearless in facing them.

Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but
for the heart to conquer it.

Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved,
but hope for the patience to win my freedom.

Grant me that I may not be a coward, feeling
Your mercy in my success alone; but let me find
the grasp of Your hand in my failure.

Tagore

– from the book, The Heart of God selected and edited by Herbert F. Vetter. Charles E. Tuttle Co. Inc.

For more beautiful poetry check out this website peacefulrivers. homestead. com

Tired of Speaking Sweetly- Poem by Hafiz

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
Break all our teacup talk of God.

If you had the courage and
Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,
He would just drag you around the room
By your hair,
Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
That bring you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
And wants to rip to shreds
All your erroneous notions of truth


That make you fight within yourself, dear one,
And with others,

Causing the world to weep
On too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,
Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself
And practice His dropkick.

The Beloved sometimes wants
To do us a great favor:

Hold us upside down
And shake all the nonsense out.

But when we hear
He is in such a “playful drunken mood”
Most everyone I know
Quickly packs their bags and hightails it
Out of town.

— Hafiz

From: ‘The Gift’
Translated by Daniel Ladinsky

Broken Heart

The danger of a broken heart is not the pain.
Not the tears, or anger.
Not the ache, not the loneliness,
not the quiet, the empty seat, the bed now much too big.
The danger of a broken heart is what we have to repair it with.
Mistrust, hopelessness, faux comfort.
Independence.
The oaths we take. What we swear to ourselves.
The danger is self-reliance.
The danger is that these stitches in our heart don’t fall out.
That they are there to stay.
Because they must.
The danger is that we know it isn’t about love anymore.
and,
it isn’t about how perfect we are in our world.
It’s about how perfect we are in theirs.
The danger is that two became one.
And a half of one…
well.
Half is not whole.
But now we must make it so.

-Lauren

Please check out more amazing poetry by this author at

andiwalkalone.wordpress.com

Vagabond Heart – Found Poetry

“I know your fingers sting from snagging them on wild rose thorns … but you’re still holding my hand and ignoring the trickling blood.
I know it bruises when you get tangled in barbed-wire-smiles … but you’re still kissing my lips and calling me beautiful.”

Me (not as in me Angela Kukhahn unfortunately)

For more incredible poetry by Me follow this link:
andiwalkalone.wordpress.com