I dont know why today i am feeling lucky. Lucky in the sense that after a crapy day at school i feel romantic and want to cite romantic poems. U know sometimes it happens. its ur feeling which emerges as a volcanic eruption or Tsunami, u never know when.

Love is linked to art and persuasion, and also to the ideal or affectation of innocence. Poetry has roots in courtly flirtation, seduction, and complaint?that is, in courtship. For example, the brilliant, learned, and sophisticated aristocrat Sir Phillip Sidney wrote, affectingly, as though in the voice of a shepherd girl:

MY TRUE LOVE HATH MY HEART AND I HAVE HIS

My true love hath my heart and I have his,
By just exchange one for another given;
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven.
??????? My true love has my heart and I have his.
His heart in me keeps him and me in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;
He loves my heart, for once it was his own,
I cherish his, because in me it bides.
??????? My true love hath my heart and I have his.


NO NO NO , I dont love man and i am not MJ or a Christian Pundit (Priest) neither Bhatkaidinchu.. ;-)

I love this poem and it does say the fact. Though it is for the Man one can consider it for one's women too. If u feel the same lets join.

yeah yeah
pundit seems to be in lauv, or i guess he just finished some marriage and feels romantic enough to cite love poems but i like that pundit i have to admit that.I found one poem in web which i want to share :
Title : MAAR DAALA
As they pulled at my choli,
poked at my chest to see if they were real,
grabbed my hair,
I thought of him, smiling shyly.

As they pinned me to the floor
f*cked my arse and it bled,
I thought of his gentle kisses on my neck.

As they zipped up, prodded me with their
lathis, stamped on me, I wrote him a letter:
?Aaj jaane ki zid na karo?

Then I blacked out

When I awoke,
He was nowhere and the road was long.
But I walked it,
I imagined him coming from the other side,

whistling a tune.
I imagined dying in his arms:
?Hum pe ye kisne hara rang daala.?

The road is endless.

But he will come,
he will come.


Peace out