First Love by “john Clare”

POSTED BY “POETRY PASSION”

First Love

I ne’er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet.
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower  
And stole my heart away complete.  
 
My face turned pale, a deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked what could I ail
My life and all seemed turned to clay.  
 
And then my blood rushed to my face  
And took my eyesight quite away.
The trees and bushes round the place  
Seemed midnight at noonday. 
 
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start.
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.  
 
Are flowers the winter’s choice
Is love’s bed always snow
She seemed to hear my silent voice  
Not love appeals to know. 
 
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling place
And can return no more.

– John Clare

About John Clare

John Clare was born to a poor labouring family in Northamptonshire. His education did not extend much beyond basic reading and writing, and he had to start work herding animals at the age of seven. This was not a promising start for a future writer, but in his early teens he discovered The Seasons by James Thomson and began writing poems himself.

His first love, Mary Joyce, was the daughter of a wealthy farmer; their separation caused Clare great pain, and it contributed to the sense of loss which pervades much of his poetry

In 1820 he married Martha Turner and published his first book of poems. He was described as ‘John Clare, a Northampton Peasant’ on the title-page, and the current fashion for ‘rural poetry’ brought him some celebrity in London. He made friends with Charles Lamb and other literary figures, and was granted the sum of £45 a year by wealthy patrons.

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my Ghazal ‘laga ke seene se tujhe” on FM TADKA RADIO

POSTED BY POETRY PASSION

PLEASE DO LISTEN THE GHAZAL ON MINE THAT READ OUT BY A RJ OF A FM CHANNEL IN A FAMOUS ROMANTIC SONGS PROGRAMME

 

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Lucky to be loved

Are you lucky to be loved?
Lucky, I am to be loved;
I mean to be loved;
Not fake love;
Real deep love;
Love from the heart.
I am lucky I found someone
Who loves me.
And someone I dearly love too.
To love and to be loved;
What a blessings!
Truly, I feel blessed;
What of you?
Do you love?
And are you loved?
Well and good if you are;
If not,
I pray you should.

#feeling, #love, #poem, #romance

my Ghazal (urdu poetry) in newspaper

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my-ghazal in Rasthan Patrika 19-02-14

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“WHY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH” a Guest poetry by: Damandeep Kaur

POSTED BY “POETRY PASSION”

http://myhttp480.wordpress.com

WHY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

Your eyes are like a sea,
the door of my heart’s key…

I don’t know why I love you so much…
that can’t hear anything wrong about you though not being physically in touch..

Staying with you forever is my dream of every day n night,
spending countless romantic evenings with you is the best dream coming true in my sight…

The whole world around seem to be stopped…
first time my love when I kissed you my heart was on the seventh sky’s top…

The warmth of your hug is the best feeling I ever get…
and of course our first hug my love how can I forget…

You came to me with a rose in your hand,little shyness in your eyes and a blushing face…
hugged me tight ,oh my god how beautiful were those days…

your hand in my hand best were those romantic walks……
your pinky finger in my pinky finger and our those long late night talks…

when we both get frustrated after our every fight..
A kiss on forehead just set everything right…

Skype dates are not that bad …
after such beautiful experiences of hugs and kisses we had…

I write you..just by seeing you on my Skype date..
you’re so beautiful in my words then how much beautiful you would be in reality I wonder my soulmate

by: DAMANDEEP KAUR

Something About the Poet:

She is pursuing her graduation in economics honours from
Amity University,Noida.

She write poems in English,hindi and punjabi and most of them based on love,romance and pain.

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A Very Romantic poetry:-“HAN YE MOHABBAT HAI” (YES IT IS LOVE)

     POSTED BY “POETRY PASSION”

     “HAN YE MOHABBAT HAI”

         Hota hai Jab Zikra-e-Mohabbat to Naam Zehan me Tera Aata hai, 
        Mohabbat Mayne Sirf Tu hai Mujhe To bas Inta Samajh Aata hai .

        Main khud bhi Aazma Leta hun Apni Mohabbat ki Dewangi Kabhi,
        Ki band Karun Jaise hi Aankhen To Chehra Tera Nazar Aata hai.

        Hai Mujhko is Baat ka Ahsaas ki Maujood nahi hai Paas Tu mere,    
        To Phir Pehlu me Baitha ho Tu Jaise dil ye Kyun Ahsaas Karata hai.

        Mar Jaaye Jo Kisi ki Yaad Me Usey Deewaana Kahte Hain Log,
        To Phir Marey Jo Har Lamha Kisi ke Liye Wo Kya Kahlaata hai.

        Chahey Laakh Khafa Rahun Tujhse Main Teri Kisi Baat Se Lekin,
        Dekhta Hun Jaise hi Soorat Teri To Phir Pyaar Aa Jaata hai.

        Peeye Itne Ashq Teri Aankhon Se Maine Ki ab To Ye Aalam hai,
        Ki Udhar Jab Roti Tu hai To Idhar ‘Aatif’ Aansun Bahaata hai.

      A Ghazal Composed By Syed Sabah ur Rehman-‘Aatif’

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“LAST TIME I SAW YOU”by a Guest Poet-Jillian Joyce of Scotland

POSTED BY “POETRY PASSION”

https://outtherepress.wordpress.com/blog/

“Last Time I Saw You”

You lived on Bank Street

third floor, top left –

I remember the door,

holding my breath,

as it opened

and you’d appear

with a book in your hand,

a cutting remark

on the tip of your tongue.

Naked one time;

still slippy

from the water I could hear gurgling in the drain.

 

Your flatmate watching as I

slip awkwardly from your grasp,

face blank as stone

while we play stoner games

I keep winning;

laughing all the way back out your door.

 

Later you drag me to a café

with your new and far more suitable girlfriend.

She and I studiously avoid each other’s gaze

( thanking god for the hangers-on who are tripping balls, Man)

me, because she is so much prettier than I:

her, because she is so far above me 

she might be riding on a cloud.

 

I watch her flawless mouth

sip bitter expresso,

marble with anxiety

over who will be next?

(You have already jokingly informed me

you are working very hard on one of her friends.)

 

The urge to gorge on the pain of others

flows strong along old Bavarian waterways.

The forests around familiar towns

are filling up with graves.

In another life

where painful truths

coexist with uneasy truce,

I tried to tell you, last time I saw you.

‘You frighten me,’

I said, (or words to that effect)

‘With your appetites and your disregard for the rest of the human race,’

but you just laughed and rolled over and went back to sleep

by: Jillian Joyce

Biography of the Author:

Jillian Joyce lives in Glasgow in Scotland which is always an interesting place to be. She has been writing for as long as she can remember – documenting, exaggerating and plain old fibbing (or fiction writing, as we call it) about her experiences on this far-flung little piece of the (current) UK. Her work has appeared in print and online magazines including Flashquake, Firstwriter and Cutting teeth and her poem ‘Remnants of a Catholic girlhood’ can be found in the 2016 GWL anthology ‘Mixing the Colours: women speaking about sectarianism’ . 

see her work on WOMEN’S LIBRARY

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