I headed for you
holding a gift
I saw many faces
but your face
I heard many tones
but your musical tones
I didn’t like faces neither voices
but yarning to hold you
I was very keen to hand you a phial
what a pity , there was no way
So ,I sprayed perfume in firmament of your place
hope the fragrance will find a way
to your nose
to remind you it was
your gift and he was yours
I left back home empty handed repeating;
Do not adore roving lovers
They are always about to leave .
You need to be a member of MyEnglishClub to add comments!
Comments
Dear tawfeeq,
Your nice comment is a valuable testimony which I really appreciate it. Your English is good and it will be very good soon just keep writing blogs and commenting .Thank you my dear friend .
My poem is poor without your touching pen .Your design injects it by life , you add the existence to my stillness words .
Thank you dear Anele .
Aneleeeeeeeeeeeeeee@I wish I could answer the point you just raised and to find out the exact answer for (why she).
When your ear comes across this word(LOVE) in the first time you would dive into the Romeo or Juliet’s world spontaneously but this is not always the case in real life .Love is suffering but a kind of sweet suffering .
Thank you Anele , Sorry for delaying my reply, I was sick since I came from my trip .I have got flu and bad cold.
Galina @ How are you my dear friend ? hope everything is great in your side .
Wow …….It is a great poem .I admire your way when you choose something to send me . You choose it carefully ,so please send me as much as you can .I like your words and your comment and I miss them .
I feel indebted for every kind word of you . Thank you very much my dear friend .
Mishaikh @Thank you for summing up your won conclusion .I am so glad to see your comment here.
Free Will@I was immensely curious to explore the Iranian palaces and see the people there . It had great cities and I saw the people are very kind and active
The poem was written when I was inspired by a story of Indian man. He was live in Newdelhy .I saw him in my hotel . He told me his story and I felt anguish over his situation so I moved to tear and wrote his a story in a poem .
I delight to see your comment Thank you my dear friend
Aariz@ The story about Indian man I saw him in Iran and told me his story the answer for your question is , he was weary of waiting an illusion .
But better giggling when I saw that Indian person had got interested in his beloved and thought that his girl would smell the perfume and the perfume would tell her and remind her of him , because she forgot him .
Thank you for adding your nice comment .
Hi, Tawfeeq!
Wow! What a beautiful poem! I love poems with perfume or fragrance references. Perfume is like a poem itself embracing the skin, dancing and whirling or settling down in a quiet corner; an ecstatic experience leading to divine knowledge through the sensual world of beauty. And we understand that beauty is not a luxury, but a necessity.
All of life as we experience it, except for the present moment, belongs to memory, dreamlike, delusions. Sometimes it’s hard to recollect occurrences and then very often perfume becomes the candle that illuminate memory so it can be relived, reworked, reshaped and tamed. Fragrant memories…
“Perfume is the key to our memories”
― Kate Lord Brown, The Perfume Garden
Your poem reminded me of the poem by Arthur Symons “As A Perfume”. Hope it’ll be interesting for you to read it.
As A Perfume
As a perfume doth remain
In the folds where it hath lain,
So the thought of you, remaining
Deeply folded in my brain,
Will not leave me: all things leave me:
You remain.
Other thoughts may come and go,
Other moments I may know
That shall waft me, in their going,
As a breath blown to and fro,
Fragrant memories: fragrant memories
Come and go.
Only thoughts of you remain
In my heart where they have lain,
Perfumed thoughts of you, remaining,
A hid sweetness, in my brain.
Others leave me: all things leave me:
You remain.
Arthur Symons (1865 – 1945, Milford Haves, Wales)
-
1
-
2
of 2 Next