The Home of Love
Feel the joy a heart has when it expands, not as a pair,
But within the beloved’s heart, finding no limit there.
Centre and periphery alike grow, a new dimension appears,
A magnificent home Love has, where live, the eternal Pirs.
O to the service of those Pirs, offer your very life,
For them accept whatever comes, of daily strife,
The very fabric of life they mould and shape, in their way,
To them the history of mankind is but a single day.
You won’t be looking for reward or you wouldn't get there,
But even so with their bounty nothing else can compare.
April 14
Good Greed
Greedy you have made me for you,
Greedy for your love songs too,
Heart and soul got together and agreed,
Greed is good, if it is greed for you
The Passing of the Narcissus
Aristocratic overseer of winter’s end, and spring’s beginning,
Proud narcissus, like all power-holders, at last end up losing,
The golden crown, and with it, their very head and life is going,
Now only bright green spears stand guarding - nothing,
Just a forlorn stem; whilst all around idol-worshippers turn to see,
The rich red-brown rose leaves, already wine stained, so early.
Gathering energy, making preparation for summer’s wild party;
Lipstick and blushers busy, fluffing up hair, ready for the entry.
Whilst in the lower orders like fast encroaching blue water,
Forget-me-nots, and various other blues and purples gather,
Invade they will, but such goings-on the roses greet with laughter,
Blues trumpeters, whose sad notes only send the bees into a lather.
Pale the sun is, yet, and cool the air; but children’s laughter warms,
The ambience, and mother’s voices regain their winter-lost charms.
Rich grass, such a gift, shows green does more than merely calms,
The impatience of lovers, to feel the summer at last in their arms.
Exotic Sunset
Like a woman in her love throes, the desert heaves another sigh,
As the sun sinks into her, each curve suffused with a golden high,
The swell of wave upon wave, ripples out towards an eternal sky,
As the fierce ball of the sun reaches an incandescent crimson high.
So much relief as that fierceness dies, yielding to the call for prayer,
Such relief as the burning heat cools, and the sky unveils, hidden there,
A trillion, trillion jewels of light, seemingly scattering them everywhere,
And rising on the horizon a new moon, born from the union of that pair.
Without Touching
Without touching you touched my heart, that’s your subtle art,
Without looking your look penetrated deep and tore me apart,
Without speaking your words rose from the depths of my heart,
Without moving a muscle you made me from my self depart.
Without so much as a ‘by your leave‘ you made me love you,
Without a pause for thought, on love’s path we travelled to,
Places unguessed at, spheres unheard of; but these you knew;
You opened so many unseen doors and ushered me through.
You gave me a simple bag but without any bottom I could see,
You laid gift after gift after gift inside seemingly endlessly,
You re-arranged heaven and many destines just to suit me,
Many mouths thank God, but mine has cause to say it sincerely.
When I paused for a moments reflection on your generosity,
I began to wonder, all these gifts but the giver, what of He.
Fearful beyond description came such a loud angry sound,
But when my feet finally found solid ground, You I found.
April 14
A Song of the Morning
Subtle, lazy, lingering kisses the sun gives to flowers in the vase,
This morning in the capital of love; sweet, poetry-filled Shiraz.
Stroking the rich oriental rug with such a gentle loving touch,
Nothing sensational - for the morning that would be too much.
There is a quiet empty feeling, though expectant of later daily duties,
But for now in the afterglow of the morning prayer, and its beauties,
Only passion-drained, peaceful, thought-free love, with no loss or gain,
As if we are all only Hafiz thoughts that on the page could not remain.
Distant clouds, whatever they contain, wait patiently for their cue,
For now, there is nothing to do, just something to be. Just You.
The drum of remembrance in the deep must be steadily sounding,
Saying, ‘Lord its seems life is on hold, while You are pondering‘.
The River of Love
By what marvellous destiny was all this brought about,
The flooding of love’s river into the heart, and out?
Liquid light that flows and ebbs but then surges stronger,
That comes again and again but each time for longer.
That reaches into every corner every nook or crevice,
Till it overflows, pouring everywhere its liquid bliss.
Carrying the debris of doubts and any diffidence
To the sea of certainty and eternal serene silence
Cleansing every part, pouring into every nearby heart,
That starts to flower and begins at last to take love’s part.
Flowing into every social strata, so the poor man’s crust,
Becomes the richest banquet, and charity replaces lust,
In the rich man’s heart: and kindness conquers hard
Calculation in the clerk, and fortune favours the ill-starred.
And war scarred warriors, pause and begin to heal,
And pleasure seekers for the plight of others start to feel.
Oh this love onwards flows but to where it goes,
We wonder: whence it came must be the answer.
Where all the evils that it has conquered, it is depositing
As an offering to its Source, unbegotten, unbegetting.
Now purged and perfect in their praise of love’s powers,
Inhabitants forever of love’s flower covered bowers.
The Prayer of Rising in the Morning.
Wake with the thought of love like a true love-drunk lover,
Chase away all other thoughts, and every lingering hangover,
Make the morning prayer in the heart, to sit at love’s door,
Be the empty cup that into it, love, the eternal Saki may pour.
Make love the early morning ablution and more over, lover,
The prayer carpet, prostration , and confession; or whatever,
Your particular religion demands, be not content until,
Every corner of the heart and mind love alone does fill.
Make love more essential then the chore, that cant be ignored.
What though things you do or say seem human and flawed,
Love turns every kind of man-made error and imperfection,
Into an appreciation of the eternal, timeless perfection.
And if, for a moment, love you don’t feel, then kneel in the heart,
And beg, pray and earnestly implore; don’t relent or depart,
Until love turns to you again and bids your heart to rise,
For love is the competition, the daily fight, and the prize.
If you find fears lingering that this love is all craziness,
Ask love to bless that fear, (while for the day you dress),
And keep on with cultivating the constant company,
Of love, in all you hear, do, think, feel, plan for, or see.
For the real fear is that at life’s end you might have to say,
I didn’t love as much, or as long, or as well every day,
As I should have, could have, or would have liked to do,
So do it, while divine breath you have, in the body, so to do.
And as you head for the door to catch that bus, train or plane,
Do not let all this business bother you, let your heart in love remain.
You depart, (as you did when God breathed Himself into your clay),
You will return God willing at the end of another extra-ordinary day.
Fidelity in Love
Wise words, well written, work well, when well read,
A crust well earned is tastier than free fresh bread,
But when it comes to love what good is such reason,
Its law is simple, not to love amounts to treason.
When the beloved turns to you with an inviting look,
O lover, put down that book, put down that book
My Heart You Broke
My heart you broke and then thousands of delights gave me,
My heart you broke and then to love you chose to wed me.
My life you asked for and then life in you, you gave me,
I never expected so much love to feel, or such beauty to see.
I used to walk into lampposts; now they light the way for me,
I went through red lights, now the end of the tunnel I see.
I fled from fame: now fame is hunting everywhere for me,
From intelligence and skill I departed, now they haunt me.
What did I ever lose that a better was not returned to me,
You locked me away but only to show the way to liberty.
I thought I had choices, I have now, you I choose willingly,
I heard voices but now it is you and you talk so lovingly.
I thought that to trust meant following someone blindly,
Now I know its sensing you, and doing what you tell me.
That the sum of this life Jamil adds up to nothing, is likely,
Know now, that, this ‘nothing’ amounts to a life in eternity.
Kindness
Enterprises come, they stay a while, and go,
Even the enterprise of life itself acts just so;
Keep in mind the importance of being kind,
It lasts, but everything else is merely a show.
Your Face
I looked into the deep sky and saw stars where it seemed there were none,
I sought you in my heart, and there stars shone, and then they were gone;
Your face! But without features, or face, still a smile you were showing,
Saw eyes, but not eyes, the light of the sun! Hair, but not hair - life flowing.
Saw a book, but not a book - a summer’s day, light flickering in a shady brook,
Saw a rose, but not a rose - an unfolding heart. Your face is everywhere I look.
Constancy
Love, couldn't you be just a little more constant, please,
Not constantly coming and going, as if intending to tease.
Couldn’t you sort of linger for longer, in fact, forever?
So I would know, if I slept, you would be waiting there.
Come to Stay
You enter my heart like there is no restriction of any kind,
I look inside and there, sat drinking my wine, you I find.
Ok I must accept the inevitable love has come to stay,
So I guess you will always be there in my mind, like today.
Pet Theme
O tie up the dog of rationality, outside the house it can stay,
For the cat of affection is sat comfortably on my lap today.
You know you can’t beat a dog for devotion and loyalty,
But for contentment the purring of a cat has much to say.
The Party
On the step leading to your door, I sat to wait,
In the hope that, to see you, it was not too late;
Drunk guests inside wondered at this humility,
And why I just didn’t go on in, and join the party.
That there is a welcome waiting inside, this I know,
But all these sins cling on, and they won’t let me go;
Still, in hope, I wait; hearing the party in full swing,
Maybe you will send to me just a little something.
A friendly guest of yours came right to the door,
And asked, exactly what it was I was waiting for.
He wanted to know why I didn’t join them inside;
I explained about the sins, holding me outside.
“What sins?” he asked, so I turned and pointed;
But saw only lovely attendants, well appointed.
“Better come in,” he said, “They started dancing,
And the finest ruby wine of our host is flowing;
Wouldn’t want all these lovely one’s getting cold.”
Above the marble door, carved in letters of gold,
I saw words that said, “Mercy lives here, enter freely,
You got here somehow, so come in now and see me!”
One Moment
That heavenly beloved looked my way, for just one moment,
Maybe sensing love’s scent, or the happy heart’s movement;
Maybe that beauty just casually turned in my direction,
But how is it, it lasts forever, one single life-giving moment
Words for a Journey
Go on your journey you must, but do not depart from my heart!
Your eyes may see what you will, but from my heart don’t depart.
The views that charm you are really within my heart’s arm's reach,
Did I not teach you this with my eye’s silent, passionate speech.
Feel the grip of my love, on this trip, do not forget love’s worship,
Is the heart’s recall of love’s kiss, and the taste of the beloved’s lip.
Hard it Was
Hard it was getting here, and coming through the door,
Ah but to see you sitting there, cross legged on the floor!
Hard it was finding the way, but worth it to be here,
The wine of your smile melts into spring, winter’s fear.
Hard it was; the road, seemed long at the time.
Rough the conditions, and so steep the climb.
Hard it was finding the way, but worth it to be here,
Your embrace removes every trace, every tear.
Hard it was, wondering how you would greet,
This dishevelled traveller seeking to kiss your feet.
Hard it was finding the way, but worth it to be here;
Your love overwhelms this heart, now I’m near.
Hard it was getting here, and coming through the door,
Ah, but to see you sitting there, cross legged on the floor!
Hard it was but it would have been much harder,
To have missed being here with you altogether.
Many Images
Many were the images and attractive too,
That were set before me on my way to you.
Many were the images, but the true desire,
That set my heart on fire, was really for you.
Mevlana's Wedding Party
When we pray to God in company,
Something very worthy I can see,
Due respect for the rights of piety,
And love of the holy Prophet I see.
When my friends are dancing wildly
Much pleasure in them also I see,
When eyes shine so very brightly,
Is it reflections of that sun that I see?
When the musicians play so loudly,
And affection on their faces I see,
They rouse the spirit from dormancy,
And Love’s purpose in all this I see.
For when departing from that party,
No more reserve or diffidence I see,
The affectionate hugs show a unity,
And in this the work of Mevlana I see.
The Way of Love
I was in a kind of confused malaise today,
All I could say, was, ‘Have you gone away?’
Business is busy outside, but my business is you.
There’s no life but life lived in you! What to do?
There is no love but the love coming from you!
Yours is the only door worth going through.
What has happened to yesterday’s ecstasy,
I couldn't say; till your heart’s arms embrace me.
Your holding is like any other? No, its not so,
Inside and out unite, and together they flow.
Flow, as, when you toss your head, your hair,
Tumbles with abandon everywhere;
And in its wistful waves the soul and body goes,
Wherever the wind wishes, wherever it blows.
Abundant are your charms, designed to disarm,
And although my heart beats fast with alarm,
I happily abandon all I thought was good and true.
Everything I would give up, just to unite with you.
Only then do you show me whats beyond ecstasy;
And what’s meant by life forever lived in you I see.
Sweet Wine
What’s this talk of sweetness with candy got to do
Sweetness gets its sweetness, sweet one, from you.
Whats this talk of wine, when wine gets drunk on you,
You are the wine I drink and when I drink, I drink you.
Time and Time Again
Time and time again my need returned
Time and time again my greed returned,
Time and time again you freed and fed me
Time and time again in you I found safety
In your face unimaginable beauty I see,
In your love there is life abundant for me.
Rose
O rose you burst into bloom and what a display,
How flagrantly you reveal your charms today.
Your fragrance invades every nose, even the wary,
You pass through the veils of a sleepy conformity,
And declare: "This beauty is for you, only for you,"
What though so many worship you as they do,
And the rational mind knows this; this we know.
You seize our heart and out from reason we go,
And into your shameless glory our pride goes.
The jewel of our life, our heart on you bestows.
Apple Pie
I made an apple pie and it is the apple of my eye,
Here’s a poser, can one pen a poem on an apple pie?
Well in my opinion the question simply does not apply,
If you're pie-eyed* the apple pie the poetry will supply.
*pie-eyed = drunk
An Image
Your image is nothing whilst you are not in it,
No love, or yearning feeling can I get from it.
The passion provoking matinée idol, their photo,
Serves to cover the hole in a drafty old window.
But when your look of love the breeze blows to me,
A paper fragment with an eyebrow brings ecstasy.
Surrendering
When you came this dawn, love showering,
Bestowing another kiss in the early morning;
You expressed it like this, - "Love is universal gravity,
Not a single planet, or system, or some place to be.
But a constant unwavering attraction, pulling us in."
Futile, but required, is all the struggling and trying,
Yet in our mind harder it seems to just give in,
And be drawn into the ease of sweet surrendering.
Then with ease turn your attention more eagerly,
To the Conqueror of mind, heart and even body.
To Be Not-Being
The noble bard asks 'To be or not be?'
What a marvellous mystic intuition had he.
Is it wiser to be this mind, heart and body,
Or into non-being take the mind bravely
(Though do not mistakenly take the body.)
And in 'not being' seek the hidden mystery,
Of that one all-embracing, absolute, Reality.
Your Image
Your image on the screen, in the heart and in the mind,
Intoxicates this drunken world-weary, thirsty eye I find.
But when your love is cool or distant in some other way,
It appears to me as nothing, but just cold, dull, and grey.
Like the corpse of that so much loved one who has died,
To seek that one in bones and flesh, have you ever tried?
But when your love I feel flowing towards me in the heart,
Neither time nor space, nor even death, can keep us apart.
Before
Before sleep, before rising, before eating,
The lover lingers - for what is the lover waiting?
For the smile of the beloved felt in the heart,
This is the lover’s religion and the heart’s art.
Sunrise
You want to feel the rising of the sun in the heart?
Well to find the place where love resides is a start.
The sun is not selective on whom its rays will fall,
Just be there to feel its warmth,that alone is your part.
So many promissory notes you showered freely on me,
(Knee deep, waist deep, shoulder deep, drowning me).
Of love that would never count the cost you told,
I see the notes, so now please show to me the gold .
The double helix was twisted - so much fun it was to fix it,
O lord, after all, are these the words of one who really did it?
Became a real lover, not just a generous word giver;
Who learned to give and take love in brain, heart and liver.
Spring
March marches on in the garden! Lord will it deliver,
The promised gold-plated banquet, and polished silver,
And turn the wilderness into a victory parade in heaven.
“Depends on weather?” Lord from this condition me deliver.
Behind a cloud is hidden that love giver and receiver,
That tavern is ready to receive gold, and the wine deliver.
Pause not long at the door in order to consider,
For this is the door known to every drunken lover.
Dogged Verse Making
Doggerel verse is alive and well,
As I hope from this you can tell.
This old dog has penned a fair few,
Yes with old fashioned rhymes too.
If poetry is a tree its just a twig I guess,
But if this twig God should chance to bless,
Its as likely to get you happy-drunk,
As a branch or even a great grand trunk.
Flowers
The flowers of your kind thoughts are beauty sufficient,
Though they are not spoken but are as silent as scent.
The heart where they are grown, is a heart I know so well,
A garden I own and walk in to hear what those blooms tell.
Those buds open as soon as the sun rises in the heart,
From its generosity and through the gardener’s fine art.
Changeless
Nothing is lost and nothing is gained,
But, as it was, nothing forever remained.
Whatever it was it came and left again,
Your smile or frown came and changed,
But always Your face it’s beauty retained.
The Way
The lover’s constant crying,
The seeker’s soul searching,
Is trying in vain, endlessly,
To get or regain the reality,
The sanity, of the self dying,
And in union with you living.
One with you, one not two.
This is what they try to do;
The seekers by their searching.
The lovers by their crying,
Rend*
The state of rend is one the pious cannot comprehend,
Though 'thought police' those drunks try to apprehend.
Even if five times a day they draw back a little from it,
They stain the prayer carpet with wine even as they sit.
To one who has no knowledge of it one cannot explain,
How it is when with the beloved the lover has once lain.
Come cease your criticism and be resigned at last,
Would you really have someone break their fast.
The wise say it is better from this world to stay away,
So don’t carp but for your own enlightenment pray.
* Rend is the Farsi originated word for the mystic who abandons pious behaviour, and remains
intoxicated with the reality of God.
What Happened
What happened to the love song you sang so sweetly?
What happened to the bird’s nest love built so fondly?
From amongst your tears try to speak and tell me,
What happened to the days when wine flowed freely?
What happened to the love in your voice that I could hear?
What happened to sweet moments when we were near?
Close your eyes my lovely and try to remember clearly,
What happened to the script love wrote so perfectly?
Can it be its gone forever that feeling that we shared?
Can it be by time and circumstance love is impaired?
The fledgling love that our friendship had nurtured,
Can it be it it flew away, that bird we had ensnared?
Can it be that love was just a kind of fickle fantasy?
Can it be that love would leave the wine glass empty?
No, though sometimes time shows us a cloudy mirror,
Can it be that the sun stops its endless generosity?
Miscellaneous
1
O to be in Shiraz when the dawn breeze arrives
Refreshing the soul, and the body that strives,
Lifting the spirit up in its gentle hands,
As away the dark night of sleep it drives.
2
What journey is worth making in the jungle of the mind,
That will not rouse some creatures of a beastly kind,
Try to pass them by as best you can, and tread lightly,
There is dawn’s light at the end of the night; inevitably.
3
Why has love fled the nest, so that you had to take to your bed?
Don’t you know its never far away, be cool calm and collected!
It will be back soon enough, just as soon as you reflect,
And take charge of the thoughts crowding into your head,
4
Of all the things that about me might be said,
Being wise or witty or even just well read;
The one I didn’t expect to hear from you,
Is that a good cloths rack I am, as you said.
Rise up
Rise up, come, on words of mystical integrity,
Rise up, I say, till we reach that hidden city,
Rise up, till we penetrate the heart where
Piety serves, for love is lord and master there.
Rise up to where young souls play around,
Rise up to that divinely veiled playground.
Rise further to where the true adults speak
Together of how to help the poor and weak.
Carried up on sounds so sonorous and so sweet,
Or on desire for love’s fulfilment, rise up I repeat.
Discover the divinity that never sleeps there
Where life, like real love, is not a casual affair.
Leave behind the beauty of art, music or poetry,
Though it served you well enough on the journey.
Rise so high that you reach right up to the place
Where your forehead on the ground leaves it trace.
March 21st 2015
Musing on the Beloved
My muse I did not invite, for quite some time,
The one so close, the inspirer of rhyme.
But I know, I know, my muse is always here,
Sitting silently, close to me, ready to appear.
Folk hear about the ‘beloved’ and imagine a body,
Or a face, or wearing some aspect of humanity.
To the reasoning mind that may well seem right,
But the ‘beloved’ is the heart that’s turned to light,
Each and every circumstance that light reveals,
Is the beloved’s face – or that is how it feels.
May 15
Mehfil - i - Rindan
That beauty that sings for us so sweetly, so sweetly,
Has a dagger concealed, so discretely, so discretely.
That beauty whose eyes say come, come and meet me.
Those lips are passion’s poison for one without purity,
That beauty who seems the epitome of liberation,
Will make you a captive in their personal prison.
Those eyelashes that guard the way to a heaven,
That lies beyond paradise and the known seven,
Will only let one whose body is dead pass through;
And that must be one who has died for love too.
Within that look is a wasteland where the corpses lie,
Of a thousand lovers who this way thought to try.
They are the deaths you die before you gain the goal,
And it will cost you all you have, your cash and your soul.
I know you think those eyes made an assignation,
That was only with you,
But everyone who finds in them such fascination,
Thinks the same as you.
Unfettered
What I know about religions does not merit a mention,
What I know about Islam does not warrant any attention.
What I know of Sufism, on one hand could be written,
What I know of love Is only what you, Beloved, sanction.
Scholars of all traditions are many, each with their opinions,
For students they seem to have an answer to all questions.
Indeed they have theories on what it is to be ‘Unlettered’,
Praise be to God that from all this He made me - unfettered.
Ramblings
For poetry lacking in rhyme I had no time,
Fashions of the day, - meaningless to me!
But real poetry is dictated from within,
If it is to have any value,
That is to say if it is worthy,
To be presented to the arbiter in heaven.
So rhyme and rhyme-free,
Now is all the same to me.
It is poetry if it comes from you and not from me.
Subtlety upon subtlety it is,
If inscribed by beautiful Hafiz,
But the linguistic niceties of his,
Are a veil to cover and enhance,
The beauty of a dancer.
Is it the dance or the dancer that matters?
Is it the food or the silver platters?
Its the taste.
When you are absorbed in an activity,
Its witness is God’s mercy.
I teach but the taught are teaching me,
I lead and followers show the way to me.
In reality all is one in one you see,
But the illusions of the sphere of our humanity,
Must be maintained, our souls agree.
Though in timeless time and space less space,
You, me, eternity, time, prose or poetry,
Are one – easy to say, not so easy to see.
Beyond unity – no not ‘beyond’,
Nor ‘within’ nor ‘without’, nor ‘above’ nor ‘below’,
Multiplicity is! In a sense it is the essence of unity.
Pul Sirat, is narrow – as narrow as unity,
What it leads to is manifestly multiplicity.
Oh I am as drunk on prose as on rhyme,
It simply does not matter to me,
What matters is You, and if You are me – then me.
The nub of these confused ramblings of mine,
Is to be kind while you draw breath,
So that death may be kind to you.
Yes, but more importantly even,
Is that love may seek you out, and find you.
For love is the water, the essence of life,
All the rest is strife, grief and strife.
Come Back
The fantasies that fill the mind – is there any end,
This way and that! This idea and that they send.
O come back my Friend, you went somewhere,
Don’t stopover, come back before the night’s end.
Heaven Knows
The fourth heaven opened its doors to me one day,
Or is that something a sober one would never say!
I have felt its pull ever since, though more there is,
For example the place where lives my master, Hafiz.
Bad Thoughts
Whilst they are still only bad thoughts, root them out,
And if you can’t do this, flee to where there is no doubt,
As the mother of holy Jesus did on that auspicious occasion,
When God’s angel it seemed was a man of dubious intention*.
If you give bad thoughts the life-breath of your attention,
They will grow and grow and eventually become an action;
And you have accepted them, so they belong to you,
As do the injuries, they inflict that you cannot undo.
Turn your attention to love and it derivatives instead,
I mean let thoughts of a better kind fill your head;
Thoughts of gratitude, generosity and sympathy,
Patience, good-will, forgiveness, trust and charity,
All the thoughts that, if you water well, will grow,
Into actions that define you – “Reap what you sow”.
*According to the holy Qur'an, when Mary, the virgin mother of Jesus was approached
by angel Gabriel she sought refuge with God as Gabriel appeared to her as a man and
she feared his intention.
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