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How much I Love You



I love you enough to fight for you,
Compromise for you, and sacrifice 
Myself for you if need be.
Enough to miss you incredibly when 
We’re apart, no matter what length
Of time it’s for and regardless of 
the distance.
Enough to believe in our relationship, 
To stand by it through the worse 
Of times, to have faith in our
Strength as couple, and to never 
Give up on us.
Enough to spend the rest of my life 
With you, be here for you when you

Need or want me, and never, ever 

Want to leave you or live without you


I love you this much.

Heart it is, not a brick or stone

Diary of a lover

Heart it is, not a brick or stone
Why shouldn't it feel the pain?
Let none tyrannize this heart
Or I shall cry again and again
Neither the temple, nor the mosque
Nor on someone's door or porch
I await on the path where He will tread
Why others should compel me to go?
The illumined grace that lights up the heart
And glows like the midday sun
That Self that annihilates all sights
When then it hides in the mysterious net?
The amorous glance is the deadly dagger
And the arrows of emotions are fatal
Your image may be equally powerful
Why should it appear before you?
The rules of life and bonds of sorrow
In reality are the one manifestation
Before realizing the ultimate truth
How can then one attain liberation?
Love is laden with noble thoughts
Yet what remains is the carnal shame
Trust conscience the still little voice
Why do you want test the rival?
There the pride of modesty resides
Here dwells the social morality
How shall we meet, on which road
Why should he invite me to the abode?
True he is an atheist
Unfaithful and unchaste
Dear to who is faith and heart
Why should he then venture there?
Without the wretched 'Ghalib'
Has any activity come to a halt?
What then is the need to cry?
What then is the need to brood?

Longing for one more sweet encounter



Beloved,
In what other lives or lands
Have I known your lips
Your Hands
Your Laughter brave
Irreverent.
Those sweet excesses that
I do adore.
What surety is there
That we will meet again,
On other worlds some
Future time undated.
I defy my body's haste.
Without the promise
Of one more sweet encounter
I will not deign to die.

Still we rise


The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep. 

Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
You couldn't even call out my name.
You were helpless and so was I,
But unfortunately throughout history
You've worn a badge of shame. 

I say, the night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark
And the walls have been steep. 

But today, voices of old spirit sound
Speak to us in words profound,
Across the years, across the centuries,
Across the oceans, and across the seas.
They say, draw near to one another, Save your race.
You have been paid for in a distant place,
The old ones remind us that slavery's chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again

The night has been long,
The pit has been deep,
The night has been dark,
And the walls have been steep. 

The hells we have lived through and live through still,
Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
The night has been long.
This morning I look through your anguish
Right down to your soul.
I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
I look through the posture and past your disguise,
And see your love for family in your big brown eyes. 

I say, clap hands and let's come together in this meeting ground,
I say, clap hands and let's deal with each other with love,
I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference, 
Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts, 

Let us come together and revise our spirits,
Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
Clap hands, let's leave the preening
And stop impostering our own history.
Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery. 

The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again. 
And still we rise.

Flower deprived of sun



Shrinking in a corner,
pressed into the wall;
do they know I'm present,
am I here at all?
Is there a written rule book,
that tells you how to be—
all the right things to talk about—
that everyone has but me?
Slowly I am withering—
a flower deprived of sun;
longing to belong to—
somewhere or someone.

Lost n Found


A sunken chest,
on the ocean ground,
to never be found
was where he found me.
There he stirred,
my every thought,
my every word,
so gently, so profoundly.
Now I am kept,
from dreams I dreamt,
when once I slept,
so soundly.

His cause and effects


He makes me turn,
he makes me toss;
his words mean mine
are at a loss.
He makes me blush!
He makes me want
to brush and floss.

Kisses all over


His charm
will disarm;
his smile,
in style;
his fashion,
in passion;
his words,
his flirt,
his tie
from his shirt,
to my wrists—
his kiss!
his kiss!
his kiss!

Notch on his belt



I am not,
just a notch
on his belt.
What I feels for him,
he's neverfelt.
I am a word
he has heard
but has neverseen
for himself.
Yet he wants to know,
how that word
is spelt.

Sea of strangers


In a sea of strangers,
       you've longed to know me.
       Yourlife spent sailing
        to my shores.
The arms that yearn
         to someday hold me,
         will ache beneath
         the heavy oars.
Please take yourtime
          and take it slowly;
          as all you do
          willrun its course.
And nothing else
           can take what only—
           was always meant
            as solely yours.

Just friends


I know that I don't own you,
and perhaps I never will,
so my anger when you're with her,
I have no right to feel.
I know that you don't owe me,
and I shouldn't ask for more;
I shouldn't feelso let down,
all the times when you don't call.
What I feel—I shouldn't show you,
so when you're around I won't;
I know I've no right to feel it
but it doesn't mean I don't.

She is his poet, he is her poetry



She lends her pen,
to thoughts of him,
that flow from it,
in her solitary.
For she is his poet,
And he is her poetry.