deepa  +  13789 Sat, 22 Nov 03 11:56 AM this is one of my favorate poems! I seem to have loved you... I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times, In life after life, in age after age forever. My spell-bound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms In life after life, in age after age forever. Whenever I Hear old chronicles of love, its age-old pain, Its ancient tale of being apart or together, As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge Clad in the light of a pole-star piercing the darkness of time: You become an image of what is remembered forever. You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount At the heart of time love of one for another. We have played alongside millions of lovers, shared in the same Shy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful tears of farewell - Old love, but in shapes that renew and renew forever: Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you, The love of all man's days both past and forever: Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life, The memories of all loves merging with this one of ours - And the songs of every poet both past and forever deepa Joined on Tue, Nov 18 2003 Pondicherry ,India Regular Member 848 Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance!

	deepa  +  13790 Sat, 22 Nov 03 12:06 PM and this too... the song This song of mine will wind its music around you, my child, like the fond arms of love. The song of mine will touch your forehead like a kiss of blessing. When you are alone it will sit by your side and whisper in your ear, when you are in the crowd it will fence you about with aloofness. My song will be like a pair of wings to your dreams, it will transport your heart to the verge of the unknown. It will be like the faithful star overhead when dark night is over your road. My song will sit in the pupils of your eyes, and will carry your sight into the heart of things. And when my voice is silenced in death, my song will speak in your living heart. deepa

	deepa  +  13841 Sat, 22 Nov 03 08:26 PM yeah ofcourse no need to b afraid peter ur competetor is no more! but his poems are alive in every heart. i love to read poems but dare not to write! deepa

	deepa  +  13946 Mon, 24 Nov 03 07:10 AM the gift (This poem is from 'The Crescent Moon' by Tagore) I want to give you something, my child, for we are drifting in the stream of the world. Our lives will be carried apart, and our love forgotten. But I am not so foolish as to hope that I could buy your heart with my gifts. Young is your life, your path long, and you drink the love we bring you at one draught and turn and run away from us. You have your play and your playmates. What harm is there if you have no time or thought for us. We, indeed, have leisure enough in old age to count the days that are past, to cherish in our hearts what our hands have lost for ever. The river runs swift with a song, breaking through all barriers. But the mountain stays and remembers, and follows her with his love. deepa

	deepa  +  13972 Mon, 24 Nov 03 10:32 AM When in the company of the world-weary Elderly, with faces and natures like prunes, Then home truths and public embarrassments, Past tense and present, like persistent old tunes, Batter and bruise the delicate beliefs, Deceits, conceits and prevarications of Youth. Bitter and ossified as the years leave them, Even the mildest will lecture on truth, Beauty and the work ethic as though dead. This said, I had no excuses, though my heart bled. But in the next brave world which we create, Lord, Let's arrange to schedule old age first, Trusting the wisdom and experience Youth ignored To temper the vigour Old Age cursed. deepa Tenses, Past Tenses