Search This Blog

Monday, August 5, 2019

Adnan Shafi redux

SHE IS GORGEOUS


Shall I figure her out? I am excited! 
let me count the ways

To whom shall I compare her?

Shall I compare her to a summer's day? (sorry Shakespeare)

Oops! No, not at all

I saw her from a distance. 
Her smirk close to my soul,
Knowing it was like a smug.
Her hands so soft; and no scar. (Imagining here)
Her hair; black as soot,
Her voice so sweet and euphonic,


Her eyes; when I looked into her eyes,
I did not say anything,
Just to whisper to the moon,
How beautiful she is!
Her melodious voice like a songbird, touches the strings of heart
She is beautiful; I have felt but  couldn't explain her into words.
You are always on my mind, always in my head.
Unforgettable cuteness, remember wt I have said
You're beautiful.. bear in mind that,
Just as Adnan's piece of art.
Image result for soot hair paintings
-- Steven Spazuk

1 comment:

  1. (sorry William Shakespeare)....

    Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
    Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
    Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
    And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
    Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
    And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
    And every fair from fair sometime declines,
    By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
    But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
    Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
    Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
    When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.
    So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

    (sorry Elizabeth Barrett Browning)....

    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 candle-light.
    I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
    I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
    I love thee with the 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 choose,
    I shall but love thee better after death.

    ReplyDelete