! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! *** Untold Art Of Love ***! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Poem by Dr subhendu kar
! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! *** Untold Art Of Love ***! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Soul rejoices by enlightened grace,
virile breeze smooches passion by mirth
heart touches tunes even million miles apart
earthly rhythm seems to reel thorough red
fear of falling never baffles grace of love
as the beauty of grace overpowers sorrow
when reef of reason entices upon the blue
words of thirsty desire rambles bewildered
fire never finds distinction of new and old
as the skin of love inebriates by midas touch
today forsakes yesterday into to furrows of time
breath expires slowly into future uncertain
yet grave fails to consume the art of love
as fairy tales are the legends unto this day
patience still holds on like stillness of stone
halcyon meanders beyond bitten by moments
Well penned poem, full of imagery. The art of love is such a mystery that noone is able to describe properly...10
Your work is a delightful spread of words that meander through the mind and heart. Good work..................arya
You seem to be lot more hopeful than I am that love will live beyond the grave with knowledge of its object. i am in doubt that I will remember in any fashion even my own self. But I do believe in love and self surviving somehow, knowledge is what is so questionable. Does it matter so much? Whatever God wills. Surely, basically, we don't call the shots. So long as I believe there is a purpose and the purpose is Good, mine not to fret about why. I think this is the difference between Faith and Belief. Personal love after death may be desirable and poetic, but, alas, uncertain. I, too, would like to see those I know and love, but in this life I was 8 years old or thereabouts before anyone I knew in this life was in my dreams. Yet, I seemed to know these other strange children as playmates. No proof at all of anything but it does cause one to wonder. Perhaps as a child one more easily personalizes his imagined creations.
fire never finds distinction of new and old as the skin of love inebriates by midas touch today forsakes yesterday into to furrows of time breath expires slowly into future uncertain.......// not there is not here is nowhere it is this is love untold mystery of the heart none can touch it none can bind is this is godly art!
Pure love is enduring.It does not die with age- - it is a glowing fire that keeps the heart warm, as the poet says .'fire never finds distinction between new and old - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - yet grave fails to consume the art of love'- - - - - - - - - - - -With marvelous way of expressiion, and wonderfully worded your poems make a distict category.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -10
From : Ema B (sydney Australia; Female; 13) To : Dr.subhendu Kar Date Time : 11/29/2009 3: 31: 00 AM (GMT -6: 00) Subject : Re: hello, Dear fellow poet your poems were wonderful you are very talented I enjoyed reading your other poems to. I look up to you. Thank you.
Dear Dr Kar, Thank you for your message, Subhendu! That´s true, I haven´t visited Poemhunter very often, but keep the friendly comments very dearly. Yours are very welcome! I have to congratulate you on 'Untold Art of Love' which is extremely meaninful - 10 for 10 times! Best regards from Brasil, Sílvia
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 6:56:51 PM # 1.0.0.1119
a very true and beautiful words wonderffully penned...10+++++ an art of love which has been never told is always held by the lovers' hearts..they do not know what does mean when you apart except your longing will be more and a fire in the heart always from the ending start..the graves fail to end any love as it lives in a new dreaming living hearts...love is the most beautiful genuine art..love is a cause for every art..... .heart touches tunes even million miles apart earthly rhythm seems to reel thorough red fear of falling never baffles grace of love as the beauty of grace overpowers sorrow when reef of reason entices upon the blue words of thirsty desire rambles bewildered fire never finds distinction of new and old as the skin of love inebriates by midas touch today forsakes yesterday into to furrows of time breath expires slowly into future uncertain yet grave fails to consume the art of love as fairy tales are the legends unto this day