Poet's Corner
Section Nineteen
Miscellaneous verses by
Jamiluddin Morris Zahuri
Recent - miscellaneous (Nov 2013)
not categorised
How Love Grows

Every time my love adds another verse for me,
The rose of love in my heart expands gratefully;
Love doesn't grow just one petal at a time,
But unfolds from within, exponentially.


Burning down is the candle of this life of yours and mine,
By its light is lit all we see around - this metaphor’s a sign

The body of wax melts  away a little more, day by day,
Or night by night I suppose it would be better to say

Its wax becomes liquid for a very short while,
Then it solidifies; the present passes in this style.

It’s the core of the candle, the wick, that really burns,
Providing the light to which the moth eagerly turns.

The life of each of us is consumed in this way,
We all know It will burn itself out one day.

What is left of the candle is just hard cold wax,
To be disposed of then - let us face the facts.

But in its bright light so much we see or have seen,
It burned up the darkness, showed what is, or has been.

The one Who lit the candle, sees whatever is,
And in His mind the memory really fresh it is.

So our life is held in His memory we find,
It exists forever in that Eternal perfect mind.

Burn bright my soul show how real everything is,
It is the gift of life, don’t deny this gift of His.

The brighter the light the more that is revealed,
So burn the darkness by which things are concealed.

Draw the moth, that lover, into its passionate flight,
The beloved of the moth is the brightness of the light.

Let the lover consumate that burning love tonight,
For the burning candle gives out heat as well as light.

The candle you have in your heart, see by its light,
See, within, the prophets, saints, and angels tonight.

O Jamil broaden your vision - become the light,
And you can become anyone, even Hafiz tonight.

Everything Must Go

I am going to strip you naked, yes everything must go,
The eyebrows are so beautifully arched, but even so,

The sweet curves of the honeyed lips -kiss goodbye,
Pert nose, soft cheek, long neck, to go; with a sigh!

Coquettish look, seductive sweep  of the hair, oh no!
Those eyes you lash me with, yes those too must go.

The curves of those shoulders, and everything below,
Down to the tips of the last elegant manicured toe.

Yes everything must go, every subtle curve you show.
For I want to see who you are beneath the grand show.

For beneath all that  graceful display I want to know,
What it is that waits there for this play to end - this show.

There is a reality that I know, and it is there I want go.
If I’m right what I’ll find is even better than what you show.


Fabulous - the way You show up each day,
Just seem to be there whenever I pray,

Lust and greed are just two fine steeds,
Once taught to pull the plough of needs.

But piety you need to keep an eye on,
It will try to put out the fire you rely on -

The fire of love; and the only way to cure it,
Is in to that fire you must slyly lure it.

For love’s fire we are told acts like this,
Burns everything and turns it into bliss.

So by all means pray and pray and pray,
But for love to come and take piety away.

Scaling Mount Hafiz

When we were invited to climb the mountain called 'impossible',
We found a love that made those rough, tough, tracts passable.

It seemed the mountain itself smiled, or so it seemed to me,
Or was it just drunk and happy to see our mad impetuosity!

Or maybe it just enjoyed the fact we had no kit with which to climb,
Only the gift of happy words, happy thoughts, and happy rhyme.

No pick to tickle that august mountain with, nor ropes to strangle it.
And boots, soft, made of gratitude, that leave no rough print on it.

A wise and wonderful friend told me 'the difficult is easy,
But the impossible takes a little longer' - how wise was he.

So in hope the mountain’s smile augers well for our trial,
We will continue, with God’s help, to try to climb the extra mile.


Pale winter’s light grew bright, in my sight,
Though the low sun presaged the fall of night,

Time was suspended for a while, it seemed,
In the porcelain vase, reflections gleamed.

Everything within its own existence bound,
Seem quietly satisfied, contentment had found.

I wondered at the sad plight of poor man,
About this discontent, where it all began.

From chair and vase and book no answer came,
Contented in themselves - remained the same.

I had to wonder was it the longing we call love
That the Originator mixed in our clay from above,

Was that the root of our unhappy groaning,
As well as the root of our blissful moaning.

The simple, happy, inanimate existence,
Of our clay disturbed by this divine essence.

Driven into unhappiness and crying,
By love, that from it so much is demanding.

And is our unhappiness the cause of envy,
In jug, table, pen and objects that we see,

For in misery there is cause for hopeful glee,
One day this clay, with divinity, at peace may be.


A cloud came between us quietly;
What we see we take to be reality:
The cloud I could see, but not you,
Clouds pass, the sun remains really.

Fireside Thoughts

Where peace lingers long, and fingers find a warmth,
In nearness to the flickering fire in the heart’s hearth;
Where your fingertips touch lightly on my lips,
And my lips lay a kiss gently on those closed eyelids.

This haven is heaven, though stern winter shows,
By pressing his nose on the panes of the windows.
The wine glass is afire with flickering reflections,
And the mind with warmth of happy recollections.

I trace pathways with my fingers in that long hair,
Spread like uncharted territory on my lap there.
Can there be anything more fair or more pleasant ,
Anything in our simple humanity more reverent..

Beyond this  haven, that holds wild wolves at bay;
There harsh minds, harsh words,  have their say;
But here, love has laid an antique rug on the floor,
Woven with pure thoughts, by hands holy and sure.

Oh I could linger here for a very long time like this,
Enjoy more and more of this, so simple, human bliss;
But this ease came after hard work and many actions,
Yes, this ease came after hard work and many actions.

So I will turn my attentions to the things I have to do,
Seeds to sow and tend, bridges to mend, goals to pursue
Goals that I hope and pray will also be pleasing to you!
Things to be done, and to be done  in a quiet way too,
As the weavers of this holy rug daily used to do, for us;
So quietly used to do; with no affectations, nor any fuss.

Clay Vessel

To make a wine cup you need to knead the clay,
To ensure every bubble of air goes away
Fingers have to press deep to open the clay ball up
While the thumb presses as the clay between rises up.

The inside is smoothed out, by fingers going deep,
To make the vessel smooth, wet fingers you keep..
In the intense heat of the oven, clay hardens up’
Till ready to receive, and by liquid fire, be filled up.

Letter Writing

When you write a formal letter to have your say
Or address an issue of some kind in some way,
Write it as if it is to the Beloved, as best you may,
At least you will have a better day, and so will they.

In case you think this means be 'lovee dovee',
I will say what I mean a little bit more clearly.
Write it as if you will yourself the recipient be,
Giving the respect you also would like to see.

No its not clear yet, or so i incline to believe,
Write it like a prayer God would like to receive,
Not fawning, nor arrogant, but just asking,
Or even politely objecting, whilst respecting.

Just to make it even more clear for you, - and me,
Sit and type or write it as if the Friend you can see.
But of course make the words you write pertinent,
For to see God in everything should be your intent.


O that adolescent I see is at that awkward age,
Having turned over innocence’ love-filled page.
Knows enough to know they know something,
But not enough to know they know nothing.
Nothing to do but watch the pain and rage,
Patiently wait till God Wills they come of age.

Lost and Found

Something in you has departed from love’s intensity,
Though in you has grown some new kind of beauty.
It used the ink of benevolence to describe you,
That pen of omnipotence that wrote my life story,

Digging for Gold

When I was a child I knew the way to get to Australia,
It was really simple - just dig, and dig, and there you were-
In a strange land where treasure was sure to be found!
Had I not been called for tea, I would have got that far.

I have been digging ever since, in another kind of way,
When we met, all I could say was, ‘At last, we’re here today’.
You put the spade of repentance firmly in my hand,
I have been finding gold ever since, every single day.


Ah sweet smelling Jasmin I will plant you today,
Near the place where this body will have to stay,
Then from my grave these words may surely come,
‘Ah sweet smelling Jasmin, you perfume my clay’

Morning thoughts

Silence sceptic, let a little romance into your heart
Let the crazy poet practice his lonely lovelorn art,
For too long you have drowned with your frown
The eloquence that stirs the embers of the heart.

A good meditation for the time before dawn,
After a long and heartfelt spirit inviting yawn,
Is to silence every voice within the mind and heart,
Except the one that says - yet again love is born.

Strike the stony heart that it may break in two
And do what the holy saints would have you do.

O that perfect full and joy bringing moon, so clearly shines tonight,
Reflected in so many bright and mirror-clear pools is its radiant light.
From this pool I drink, this one bathe in, and by another I will lie,
Before this one I weep from its beauty and fill it with the tears I cry.
With this one I laugh and play, next to this one I earnestly pray,
The river on its way to the ocean stops by, in its easy, natural, way.
Each pool becomes submerged by its ceaseless lovelorn surge,
And now the pool’s waters mingle and those moons into one merge.
Dancing on the river that’s flowing to the sea, one moon is in my sight,
O that perfect full and joy bringing moon, so clearly it shines tonight.

Living Love

Want love, want living, want the love of the living?
Want the life that love, like nothing else, is giving?
Hafiz says he is truly alive who loves, so love the living.
The living are the holy ones that  God, to man, is giving.
The ones whose souls are alive forever, and love are giving.
Whose life was a prayer, and after death are still living.
I feel pity for those who from this love are abstaining,
Why be of those when God is so generously forgiving.


Unfolding every day in eighteen thousand sub-plots, it appears,
The drama of
your opening! O rose, every moment it appears;
This idol I hold in my hand, is another reflection of
you, it appears;
Is it
your love revealed in my heart, or mine that in you appears?.

The Artist

Time and time again I lost the plot,
Thought I knew, but it seems did not,

Again and again
you brought me back,
Found me floundering and on the rack.

Without You in what a wilderness I would be,
But with Your help, yet again, I clearly see;

Your love was such it moved the heart,
When it seemed I had got lost in art;

The only real art is the art of loving,
The art of living, the art of being;

You are the artist how else could it be,
The empty page you write on, that is me.

What you create is simply beautiful,
Its substance, liquid light - wonderful!

Formed into beauty so unimaginable,
It would seem to the mind unrealisable.

Yet when the true word comes - 'Be',
The ideal form is reflected in materiality,

Planets move, worlds re-align, stars brighten,
Lives change, minds clear, burdens lighten.

Stumbling fingers finally find a chord,
Seemingly all of their own accord.

Eyes sparkle and smiles broaden,
Yet few really see it is all by You given;

To a thousand causes each effect is attributed,
O Lord! You are so patient with the short sighted.

And short sighted is the man indeed,
Who thinks all comes from his own deed.

You brought all this into being
It is Your praise each bird is singing,

The mountains were reverberating,
With Prophet David Your praise singing.

If hard rock and small birds praise you,
Then what should the heart of man do?

O Lord overcome our cold negligence,
Bring us the warmth of remembrance,

Remembrance of the praise that is due,
To The Living One, to Love, to You

Missed You

Who should I blame for missing our meeting at dawn today,
To blame me or You is or the stars is pointless, churlish I say!

Since you are blameless spotless, only perfection in you I see,
To be angry with You is an just exercise in complete futility.

So I am left to blame only my own asinine stupidity,
But since you led that dumb beast into a pure salt sea,

Is there anything at all, even a single hair left of that donkey,
To blame the salt for purity? Love maybe mad, but not crazy.

All events are in Your perfect hand, under Your command,
So I say for sure this is something You must have planned.

All that remains for me is to try not to lose Your plot,
And to see how this all fits in, to untie the mind’s knot.

Ah but the pain and sorrow and anger at not seeing you,
Reawakens the intensity of love, makes it fresh as if new,

So my dear thank you, thank you, thank you, for it’s the answer,
Its what I hoped for from the meeting, the morning prayer.


If your presence I don’t sense, I will make no pretence,
Whats the sense of a sentence if it doesn't’bring your  presence,

Come, no need for a present, only want you to be present.
Come, from kindness relent, be here even if just silent.

Come, my heart is open wide, so I feel you, inside,
Please put the rest aside, there is no time for pride;

To whom can we confide the things we feel inside.
Come  don’t be deprived,  let love be the guide.

Not feeling love is dying, it is not truly living.
So give up pretending, who are you really kidding,

Real love is sacrificing, and your whole self giving,
It’s the gift worth bringing, and the gift worth receiving.

Come and do not ask why there are tears in my eye
And don’t worry I wont pry into why you sadly sigh.

So no need for us to lie, nor yet to feel too shy.
Come, don’t be asking why, the way of love we ‘ll try.


O brother this is urgent - if you’re young and fit,
Don’t waste your time just get right down to it.

Life is for living not for taking pleasure trips,
Seek urgently to drink from the true
beloved's lips.

You will nod sagely if I say life passes in a day;
But then sadly you’ll go about your careless way.

Count each day wasted that does not bring you near,
One whose kiss gives you eternal life, now and here


I am lost between lover and beloved, lost without trace,
Whether to embrace or be embraced, which is my place?

Love can be so clear it becomes very confusing;
Sometimes it comes on fast, sometimes is refusing.

I guess unless this confusion is clear to you,
You don’t know love at all - or else you do!

“Come lets cling to this confusion as best we can“,
Love said. So towards it, and away from it, I ran.

Distinction Extinguished

Beloved your love is the lover,
For there cannot be another.
And if you seem to make distinction,
Its just to enjoy the lover’s extinction.


O this moon is a true moon, may it become a full one soon,
This moon speaks of love, its why we talk of a ‘honey’ moon.

And this tune is a true tune, with words that speak of love,
This tune is attuned to the spheres humming quietly above.

And this garden is a true garden, scented by roses in bloom,
Where love walks, disguised as a happy bride and groom.

If by clouds of this world it seems hid, and by doubts too,
Doubt not, its there, for truth IS, even when hid from view,

Nor can time and circumstance diminish what it means to you,
In every moment of happiness you will find that this is true


In the hot, sultry, summer from cool mountain-springs,
The sharp tang of ice chills the wine, and coolness brings.

In the desolation autumn admits,there are still wings,
That carry us to where youth perpetual life brings.

In frozen winter nights, in the fire of desire, love sings,
And lover to the beloved in greater closeness clings.

Into spring’s fountain, a young bird itself happily flings,
In all seasons, the beloved is to be found in all things


Too much thought slows the flow grace bestows
Too little and the wheel of production slows.
So walk between extremes the wise so wisely say,
Ah but when Your love comes in, out wisdom goes.


Sleep! Your sweetness so insidiously surrounds us,
Dreams, drawing images to drag us in and drown us.
Until someone serves another draught of sweeter wine,
And love stirs, takes hold, and to wakefulness inspires us.

Short Sweet Meeting

When we met briefly the other day,
It was if the wind blew the clouds away;
Your face had grace but the better part,
Was your heart - from the sun a warm ray.

Stoking Love's Fire

Where is the one whose love burned hot,
Is that one there I wonder, or maybe not?
I stir the embers of love with a poker of iron,
Till the flame bursts into life, to see - what?

The Way of the World

In the way of worldliness you may conceal,
The way that your heart really does feel;
Emptiness, and sorrow, and bitter despair,
Is the soul's rejection of the worldly meal.

Zahur Mian

Sunlight on frost-frozen bare branches,
Yes, winter has its beauty too,

As, peering from beneath silver eyebrows,
Your pearl piercing eyes used to do.

Eighteen thousand worlds shone and revolved,
In the space between me and you,

In the spring-sun we buried your winter,
But we never buried you.


You were in danger of developing a hard shell,
Around the love that in you had begun to swell;
Love wanted to burst out; you tried to hold it in,
You sought out the Lord of Love – just as well!

Now, little by little, that shell, open we will pry,
Till from that pearl of love, heaven hears a sigh;
To imprison such a love surely amounts to a sin,
That lovely light within should irradiate the sky.

With gentleness the angels will take the soul,
Whose heart by love has been made whole;  
Delay not another moment, this very day begin,
Take the first step now that you know the goal.

Beardless Wonder

Some think you cant be a Muslim if you don’t have beard, as a sign,
I say show me the submission of your heart and I will show you mine.
If your submission is deeper or more profound I will grow one now,
If this is not the case shave yours off, it would be more honest anyhow.

Invocation of Prophet's and Saints

It is said to Allah alone for help we should go,
That prophet’s and saints we don’t need to know!
Well this thought has appeared in Namaz to me,
Saints and prophets are absorbed in His unity.
Like his names an expression of Him they are,
And to call on Him by these encouraged we are.
Say Allah or Rehman or any holy Name is good,
So why not by those known holy ones we should?
The important thing is to know with certainty,
We are not calling on anything other than He.