Don't know much about history.
Don't know much about the stars I see.
I've read a few books on philosophy.
Written a lot of bad poetry.
But I know that I love you.
And if you were to say to me,
That you loved me too.
What a wonderful world this would be.
I get most things completely wrong.
All I've learned is how to pretend to be strong.
My patience never lasts for very long.
And I write far too many sad songs.
But I know that I love you.
And if you were here with me,
Loving me like only you can do.
What a wonderful world this would be.
Stars were made to lose their shine.
Clocks were made to lose track of time.
Love wasn't made to be proper or kind.
But you were made to be mine.
And I know this to be true.
And if you were here with me.
Like all my memories of you.
What a wonderful world this would be.
Nights were made for love-making.
Music to make your soul start quaking.
For all the silly things I'm stating, I know,
I was made to be yours for the taking.
And I know that you loved me.
I was waiting for you to remember it too.
But not everything can be as we wish it to be.
But not everything can be as we wish it to be.
Some people are meant to be passing through.
At least they lingered for a second or two.
At least they whispered once I love you.
Now you're gone, I should be leaving too.
The girls are dancing, I guess that's my cue.
But don't think I'll be forgetting you.
Every night, every song, every kiss.
I'll remember, no matter what else I do.
Heaven can be found in no more than this.
Oh, what a wonderful world this is.
This is one of the best poems ever... I loved it so much... so much of simplicity in it... straight from the heart... sincere words that just touched me from within and left so much of impact in my mind and heart... Hats off to you Arunji...
ReplyDeleteStrange, how very often the 'bad poetry' seeps into some penurious soul to make it look up and smile again.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful world this is...
Hmm..So there is a poet out there who writes wonderful,poignant,almost painful verses about love,he sits down and bleeds his heart about this one woman.Now Hemingway(like the gentleman he was)would ask him to get up and get her back,be foolish,be reckless,make a fool of himself and get that woman back.Because that's what women want(to be serenaded).
ReplyDeleteTwo things can happen.Either way the poet would get the closure he obviously needs.
Then again,Hemingway is dead.And this in particular is obviously none of my business,nor am I competent enough to be Hemingway's 'medium'.It's just that love may be the only thing I believe in as of now.
Isn't Love supposed to enlighten us,inspire us,torture us,amuse us,but importantly isn't it (finally) supposed to make the pariahs in us come home,to our silence,to that stillness?
Then again,what do I know...
this is the best one, the simplest one and the sweetest one...what a wonderful world this is :)
ReplyDelete