Posts tagged ‘creation’

Ek dost tha mera jo kahi kho gaya…. cont….

Ek dost tha mera jo kahi kho gaya,
jane kaise vo mujhse juda ho gaya,

jo kehta tha apni dosti har pal nibhaunga,
bas ek awaaz de na dauda chala aaunga,

kaisi ranjish mai na jane mera dost fasa hai,
kis desh jane dost mera ghar bana basa hai,

gila hai nahi naa hi shikwa tujhse koi,
na hi tere door jane ki wajah koi,

kehte hai dosti ka rishta upar wala nahi hum khud banate hai,
fir na jane kyu dost is rishte ko bhool tanha chod jate hai.

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Mere dost kaha kho gaye….

jo kehte the mujhe dost kabhi,
jo milte the har roz kabhi,

jinhe yaad karta mai jab kabhi,
khade ho jate samne tabhi ke tabhi,

vo saath mai rehna, khoob masti karna,
mushkilon ke daur me saath hokar ladna,

vo tapri mai milna, vo class bunk karna,

vo saath baith ke lecturer ko jhelna,
lecture ke waqt canteen mai patte khelna,

aur jab aati exams mai padne ke baari,
jane kaha se aajati sab ko bimari,

ek ladki ke saath ek dusre ki pairing,
ek sutte ki sab doston mai sharing,

kuch paise hote the haath mai,
par sab dost rehte the saath mai,

vo bhi kya daur tha kya aalam tha,
us waqt humko yeh kaha malum tha,

ki ek din sab ek dusre se juda ho jayenge,
apni zindagi mai na jane kahi kho jayenge,

aaj na waqt hai kisi ko yaad karne ko,
aaj na waqt hai kisi se baat karne ko,

agar koi milne ki bhi fariyaad kare,
toh waqt nahi hai mulakat karne ko,

aaj kehne ko mai hu aur mere dost hai,
sab aapni aapni zindagi mai mast hai,

paise toh bohat hai haath mai,
par mere dost nahi mere saath mai,

jo kehte the mujhe dost kabhi jane kaha ghum ho gaye,
is paise hi bhag daud mai jane mere dost kaha kho gaye,
jane mere dost kaha kho gaye,
jane mere dost kaha kho gaye….

If you do….. tell me soon as I can’t wait.

I really want to tell you how I feel,

Even though we haven’t been friends that long.

I might not know you all that well,

But these feelings are really strong!

I tried to deny how I felt,

In order to protect a friend.

But now I cant contain myself!

I need you to know that you’re driving me round the bend!

I can’t eat or sleep,

The feeling’s so intense.

Being so close to you,

I want to be with you more and more.

Is it love?

Who knows what love is,

What I have though is great.

Tell me now, do you feel the same?

If you do,

tell me soon as I can’t wait.

You asked me when do i think of you……

When I Open My Eyes

To See The Sun Rise

I Think Of You.


When I Hear A Robin Sing

On The First Day Of Spring

I Think Of You.


When I See A Red Rose

On The Bush Where It Grows

I Think Of You.


When I Feel The Summer Heat

On The Sand Beneath My Feet

I Think Of You.


When I Sit On A Beach

Another World Just Out Of Reach

I Think Of You.


When I See The Colored Leaves

Fall To The Ground From A Light Breeze

I Think Of You.


When I Look To The Night Sky

And See The Sparkle Like In Your Eyes

I Think Of You.


When The Snow Is Coming Down

To Softly Blanket The Ground

I Think Of You.


When I Go To Bed At Night

As I Turn Out The Light

I Think Of You.


When Im Old And Near Death

And I Draw My Last Breath

I ll Think Of You. .

Crabby Old Man…………… Truth of Life

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte , Nebraska , it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Missouri ..

The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based
on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. .. . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you’re looking at me?
A crabby old man . . . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . ‘I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice . . . . . the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not . . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking? . . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am. . . . . . As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten . . . . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters . . . . . who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet.
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons . . .. . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman’s beside me . . . . . to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more, babies play ’round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . . my wife is now dead.
I look at the future . . . . . shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . . . and the love that I’ve known.

I’m now an old man . . . . . and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone . . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . . . a young guy still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living . . . . . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . . . . . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . open and see.
Not a crabby old man .. . . Look closer . . . see ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet

an older person who you might brush aside

without looking at the young soul within.

We will all, one day, be there, too!

Love is Like ….

love is like an ocean
It goes down so deep
love is like a rose
Whose beauty you want to keep.

love is like a river
That will never end
love is like a dove
With a beautiful message to send.

love is like a prisoner
It’s to you that I surrender
love is like a song
That shall go on and on forever.

A flower of God’s design, the Rosebud…..

A young, new preacher was walking with an older, more seasoned preacher in the garden one day. Feeling a bit insecure about what God had for him to do, he was asking the older preacher for some advice. The older preacher walked up to a rose bush and handed the young preacher a rosebud and told him to open it without tearing any of the petals The young preacher looked in disbelief at the older preacher and was trying to figure out what a rosebud could possibly have to do with his wanting to know the will of God for his life and ministry. But, because of his great respect for the older preacher, he proceeded to try and unfold the rosebud while keeping every petal intact . . It wasn’t long before he realized how impossible this was to do. Noticing the young preacher’s inability to unfold the rosebud without tearing it, the older preacher began to recite the following poem:

It is only a tiny rosebud
A flower of God’s design;
But I cannot unfold the petals
With these clumsy hands of mine.

The secret of unfolding flowers
Is not known to such as I.
GOD opens this flower so sweetly,
Then, in my hands, they die

If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
The flower of God’s design,
Then how can I have the wisdom
To unfold this life of mine?

So, I’ll trust in Him for leading
Each moment of my day.
I will look to Him for His guidance
Each step of the Pilgrim’s way.

The pathway that lies before me
Only my Heavenly Father knows.
I’ll trust him to unfold the moments,
Just as He unfolds the rose