My God

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choos,
I shall but love thee better after death

TO A YOUNG GIRL

My dear, my dear, I know

More than another

What makes your heart beat so;

Not even your own mother

Can know it as I know,

Who broke my heart for her

When the wild thought ,

That has forgot,

Set all her blood astir

And glittered in her eyes.

            William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

Escape me?
Never—
Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you,
   So long as the world contains us both,
   Me the loving and you the loth,
While the one eludes, must the other pursue.
My life is a fault at last, I fear:
   It seems too much like a fate, indeed!
   Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed.
But what if I fail of my purpose here? 
It is but to keep the nerves at strain,
   To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall,
And baffled, get up to begin again,—
   So the chase takes up one's life, that's all.
While, look but once from your farthest bound,
   At me so deep in the dust and dark,
No sooner the old hope drops to ground
   Than a new one, straight to the selfsame mark,
I shape me—
Ever
Removed! 

Robert Browning

Robert Browning was born on May 7, 1812, in Camberwell, England. His mother was an accomplished pianist and a devout evangelical Christian. His father, who worked as a bank clerk, was also... More >

در مورد شاعر :

While saying hello and greeting to you all, I wish you enjoy your trip next week.

I read a poem posted by Mr.Kasravi , that I found it interesting to let you know the poet!

here you are! and happy Laser Day! (visit google for more info

!©2008 Google)

Sin of Ommission
by Lella Ivey

The time was Nativity Christmas feast, 1995, in a Russian Orthodox Christian community in Portland, Oregon.

Over the chapel, our community room was filled with 37 ravenous parishioners who had abstained from meat and dairy for five weeks. Five weeks, need I say more? It was a feeding frenzy. Having refilled platters and bowls for the second wave, my prime motive now became one of escaping the noise and bodies.

Slipping quietly outside, I made my way down the driveway for a cigarette and silence. Unexpectedly, I met a man at the dark sidewalk.

For some odd reason, my shields did not go up. He was sober, clean, saying simply, “I’m hungry. Do you have any food?”

A jumble of thoughts occupied my mind in the silent moment that followed. I thought, ‘Of course, enough food for half the entire neighborhood.’ My internal voice urged me to act: ‘Introduce yourself; ask his name. Take his arm; say “follow my lead.” Guide him back upstairs. Write it as you go.’

I said and did none of these things. Instead, I handed him two cigarettes and said, “Please wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Back in the din of the community feast, I tugged on my priest cleric and said, “Please come with me.” He followed me outside. Thankfully, the man was still there at the sidewalk. Priest and man chatted briefly.

Father P. then turned to me, saying, “Come Lella, we’ll fix him a plate.”

Back upstairs, we piled a plate full of food, then returned it to him and showed him where to sit.

Father P. then said “Come my dear. Your guests are waiting.”

Scurrying along behind Father P.’s black clad figure, I struggled to quiet my internal voice which, by now, could be heard over departing 767’s at PDX. I repeatedly reminded myself of Father P.’s admonition, “Submit. Be dutiful.” I told myself “This is not your call.”

Standing inside again, surrounded by conversation, food and good cheer, I could no longer tolerate the thought of him alone out there in the dark and cold, beyond the walls of the warm church. With carafe of coffee and two cups in hand, I blew out of there, with Father P.’s authoritative voice beating on my eardrums: “Lella, sit down!” I kept going.

The man was gone. In the matter of a few moments, he had disappeared without a trace. It was one of those times when God reveals to us the utter hypocrisy of our professed faith.

Every facet of that encounter had been my call. It was MY path that God had put that pilgrim on. Not the community feasting in the church. Not Father P. And my response had been to abdicate responsibility. I had given him food, but had not given of myself. It haunts me still these long years later.

I know who that man was. He was the Messiah.

It is the things we do not do for which we must answer to God. Perhaps, if I live long enough (I am 64 now), and am very careful, God will be merciful and forgive.

And perhaps, when I have learned the true meaning of the sin of omission, I will forgive myself.

Lella Ivey is working to create a curriculum for a course in Personal Fire Building, (i.e. What I do, I do for me—not because it is “good” or “right,” but because it meets my own integrity). Lella surrounds herself with an entourage of young men so she won’t get bored. She lives in Portland, Oregon.

Being repentant of what we have done differs from what we could or should have done but never did. This poem is for those (mostly me myself) who may sometimes regret what they could have done. It may be repetitive for some, but it does worth reading it over.      (Unfortunately, I could not find the name of the poet, so I cited it as anonymous I hope you would like it.  .)

                                  THE SIN OF OMMISSION

It isn’t the thing you do;

    It’s the thing you leave undone,

Which gives you a bit of heartache

    At the setting of the sun.

The tender word forgotten,

    The letter you did not write,

The flower you might have sent,

    Are your haunting ghosts tonight.

The stone you might have lifted

    Out of a brother’s way,

The bit of heartsome counsel

    You were hurried too much to say.

The loving touch of the hand,

    The gentle and winsome tone,

That you had no time or thought for

    With troubles enough of your own.

The little acts of kindness,

    So easily out of mind;

Those chances to be helpful

    Which everyone may find___

No, it’s not the thing you do,

    It’s the thing you leave undone,

Which gives you the bit of heartache

    At the setting of the sun.

 Anonymous                                  

دیوانه ام؟
دیوانه منم که در پس خیال ماورایی خود,

 به دنبال خودم می گردم
از خود می رنجم
دیوانه منم که با سپاهی از آهنگ خوشی،
سخت اصرار همدمی می ورزم.
با خویش می جنگم
دیوانه منم

 کو سر یاری ندارد با من،
دیوانه را راه نبد به محفل جان دادگان
خود را می رنگم
دیوانه ییم از سر این جور و ستم
کز معمای فزون آن چاه خری
یا در آن گود صنوبر هیئتی،
به خود می ریختم.
بی شک این تاریکی
آن ستم کوری و نور باریکی
بهر من است
من که هر دم به رخساره آن شاه بلند می عشقم
از خود بی خبرم؟
با تو من می طلبم...

این یکی از شعرهای این ور عیدمه امیدوارم بپسندید! 

پیش از این ها ...

پیش از این ها فکر می کردم خدا

خانه ای دارد کنار ابرها

مثل قصر پادشاه قصه ها

خشتی از الماس و خشتی از طلا

پایه های برجش از عاج و بلور

بر سر تختی نشسته با غرور

ماه، برق کوچکی از تاج او

هر ستاره، پولکی از تاج او

اطلس پیراهن او، آسمان

نقش روی ....................................................................................................... ...

A White Rose

The red rose whispers of passion,

And the white rose breathes of love;

Oh, the red rose is a falcon,

And white rose is a dove.

But I send you a cream-white rosebud,

With a flush on its petal tips;

For the love is purest and sweetest

Has a kiss of desire on the lips.

John Boyle O'Reilly(1844-1890)

"My own feeling , by hossein-the little kiddo"

در ادامه معرفی شاعران بزرگ جهان امروز به Robert Browning می پردازیم.

The son of Robert Browning, a Bank of England clerk, and Sarah Anna Wiedemann, of Scottish-German descent, Browning received little formal education. His learning was gleaned mainly from his Father's library at home in Camberwell, South London, where he learnt something, with his Father's help, of Latin and Greek and also read Shelly, Byron and Keats. Though he attended lectures at the University of London in 1828, Browning left after only one session.

Apart from a visit to St Petersburg in 1834 and two visits to Italy in 1838 and 1844, Browning lived with his parents in London until his marriage of 1846. It was during this period that most of the plays and the earlier poems were written and, excepting Strafford, published at his family's expense.

After the secretly held marriage to Elizabeth Barrett in 1846, Browning and wife travelled to Italy where they were, apart from brief holidays in France and England, to spend most of their married life together. In 1849 the couple had a son, Robert 'Pen' Browning, and it was Elizabeth who, during this time, was most productive. After her death in 1861, Browning returned to England with his son, where he achieved popular acclaim for his Dramatis Personae and The Ring and the Book.

He spent the remainder of his life, excepting holidays in France, Scotland, Italy and Switzerland, in London where he wrote a number of dramatic poems, the two series of Dramatic Idylls (1879,1880) and poems on primarily classical subjects: Balaustion's Adventure (1871) and Aristophone's Apology (1875).

نمونه ای از آثار این شاعر

Among the Rocks

Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth, This autumn morning! How he sets his bones To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet For the ripple to run over in its mirth; Listening the while, where on the heap of stones The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet. That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true; Such is life's trial, as old earth smiles and knows. If you loved only what were worth your love, Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you: Make the low nature better by your throes! Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!

می توانید شعر های این شاعر را دانلود کنید.(حجم ۳ مگابایت)

دانلود

عکس های رابرت براونینگ

The fly

Little fly

Thy summer1s play

My thoughtless hand

Has brushed away.

Am not I

A fly like thee?

Or art not thou

A man like me?

For I dance and drink, and sing,

Till some blind hand

Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life

And strength and breath

And the want

Of thought is death;

Then am I

A happy fly,

If I live,

Or if I die.

By William Blake

برداشتتون از این شعر چیه بی زحمت؟

ABC poem

K is for Ka’bah

First house of Allah in Makah was made,
By Ibrahim and Ismail the stones were laid
Millions of believers from every race,
come for Hajj tot his extra special place

L is for Life

A precious gift from Allah to you,
don’t waste it, he knows what you do
don’t chase pleasure or forget Allah,
No matter how little, say "Al-Hamdulillah

M is for Mohammad

Peace be upon him, Abdullah's son,
From Allah's enemies he did not run
of all the Prophets, he was the last,
Islam his message which we hold fast

N is for Nuh

Peace is upon him, a Prophet who was very good,
Allah told him to build an ark, fast as he could
take pairs of animals and the believers-all,
the flood was coming and the waves would be tall

O is for Obedience

It is the duty of each Muslim to obey,
The Qur'an and the Sunnah all the way
go for Hajj, give Zakah, fast, and pray,
And to your parents do not say, "Nay!"

To be continue!

لطفاً نخندید.من هم شعر می گفتم(وقتی 18-19 ساله بودم)برای این که باور کنید این هم یکی از شعرهام.شاید بعضی هاش خنده دار به نظر برسه ولی خوب من بهشون احترام می ذارم چون یه موقعی این طوری فکر می کردم و یه هم چین طبعی داشتم.

اگر با من بود چنین می کردم                  آسمان را ناظر مهر جان کاهت

آفتاب را متبرک عشق پاکت                   باران را ضامن قلب بی باکت

بوسه ی نسیم را پیشکش خالت!              فضا را گهواره ی آهت

خورشید را فانوس راهت                      ماه را قربانی نگاهت

و دریا را شراب جامت                        اگر با من بود چنین می کردم

what the world could be,

if we were all free

what the life could be,

if we gave love for free

if it wasn't all dark,

our heart surely could be a park

for the some one we like,

with just a simplified talk

seeing the great sun shine with its light,

but in some place men* are going to fight

let the light to your soul,

not making your self like a foul

for the some one we like,

with just a simplified talk

by hossein

*men=people, mankind

To the virgins to make much of time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

Old time is still a-flying

And this same flower that smiles today

Tomorrow will be a dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun

The higher he’s a-getting

The sooner will his race be run

And nearer he’s to setting

That age is best which is the first

When youth and blood are warmer

But being spent, the worse and worst

Times still succeed the former

Then be not coy but use your time

And while ye may go marry

For having lost but once your prime

You may forever tarry.

 ادامه داره بابا بخونین کلی زحمت کشیدم براش! 

كي رفته اي ز دل كه تمنا كنم تو را؟
كي بوده اي نهفته كه پيدا كنم تو را؟

غيبت نكرده اي كه شوَم طالب حضور
پنهان نگشته اي كه هويدا كنم تو را

با صد هزار جلوه برون آمدي كه من
با صد هزار ديده............

One 

One song can spark a moment,

One flower can wake the dream.

One bird can herald spring.

One smile begins a friendship,

One handclasp lifts a soul.

One star can guide a ship at sea,

One word can frame the goal.

One vote can change a nation,

One sunbeam lights a room.

One candle wipes out darkness,

One laugh will conquer gloom.

One step must start each journey,

One word must start each prayer.

One hope will raise our spirits,                      

One touch can show you care.

One voice can speak with wisdom.

 One heart can know what's true.

One life can make the difference,

 You see it's up to You!

Don`t ever forget how important You are.

By Parvin