Sanober Khan Quotes - Page 2

i'm glad to be alive in a world wherehis gently awakening eyesnourish the morning sun.

my poetry is merely a body.you are the soul in my words.

A poem in the heart is worthmore than a million dollarsin the bank account.

lean in to kiss mein all the placeswhere the acheis the most special.

holding the eveningtremblingly close to mei weepinto the sun lettingthe burdenof hopelift off my chesti realizethis is what it meansto be free.

sometimes i am not sure.if i am writing the poemor the poemis writing me.

Look, moonI turned silver for you.

May our twilights mix togetherlike breath and breathlessness.

To fall in love with someone's thoughts - the most intimate, splendid romance.

What's a rainy daywithout some deliciouscoffee-flavoured loneliness?

I realizedJune had never beenjust a monthmusic...never just a trembleon my lipswarmth was nevermerely a blanket.

leave me some musicthat’s chocolate for the heart.

Your words... I hold them deeplike ancient skinshold wrinkles.

when i write of you, my deari am holding youin the most exquisiteways.

a flower knows, when its butterfly will return, and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand;but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon,when I don't know, if you will ever come back.

when i speak to youi speak as thoughi am offering a rosein your hand.

tell meof something fiercer than the love with which i gaze upon youof something softer than the tendernesswith which i hold you.

be the kiss in my hairthat no one seesmove, when i movesigh, when i sigh...be that line from a poemthat i hold in my eyes.

fierce lovers.and battle warriorsboth comefrom the same place. there is bound to be,some bloodshed.

sometimes i don't know, which momentwhich cool gust of wind will come,and enchant metousling my hairand my heart, stirring...that familiar ache of poetry, which drop will kissthe old wrench in my soulreminding me, all over againi miss you better in the rain.

For it is up to you and meto take solacein nostalgia's armsand our abilityto create the everlastingfrom fleeting moments.

i want to be in love with youthe same wayi am in love with the moonwith the lightshiningout of its soul.

Sometimesthe things that make you cryare more beautifulthan the thingsthat make you laugh.

May the nights always be aglowwith the bliss of the daywith unharmed hands and feetand kissed cheeks.

stronger than mountains.a place where my heart feels the safest- underneath his shirt.

I wouldn't mindif life left me...winglessburnt to cindersripped by stormsscattered...like weedscelestially woundedwithout cherry blossomsto perish withbut I would crywith head held in my handsif it left me...unfulfilled.

the sapphire depthof my own love...startlesand warmsand wounds my soul.

I write because there are things in me that cannot die.

tread carefullyinto my life, my dear.the currents are strong.you will get lostin this warm oceanof my skin.

how can i everbreathe normally againafter having been cradledby the kind of sorrowso silent, that it nourishesafter having been sweptby the kind of joyso absolute, that it wounds.

in the endit is wordspoetry. sunsetssomeone’s deep blue silk voice.mountain scents.someone’s smile.eyes. that we haveno defenses against.

we always knewthat good times camewith termination contractseven if we weren't quite readyto sign it.

I want to have a romance so grand,it would have made Shakespeare fumble for words.

this heart yearns...for the salt of unsmelt airunswept thunderstorms...unknown adventures.

i would rather havefeelings without wordsthan words without feelings.

Poems are soft kitten furs. smoothing out the rough edges of my world.

The splendid thingabout falling apartsilently...is thatyou can start overas many timesas you like.

I blink January’s lashesand gush down December’s cheeks

i am so crammedfull of fearsthat if you were to touch me i might eitherfly or break.

because some thingssometimesaren't ours to hold,but just beautiful to listen to.

As long as I can hear the sweet melody of your words, I need not; The angel’s secret, to be whispered in my ears As long as I can lace your silky fingers round my own, I need not; Pretty diamonds, nor big cash nor gold As long as I can watch the handsome sunshine of your face, I need not; Open skies, nor snowfall, nor the rain As long as I can gaze into the emeralds of your eyes, I need not; New colors, new wings or paradise As long as I can feel the tender tickle of your breath, I need not; The drifting wind, nor its call, nor caress As long as I can feel your soft lips upon mine, I need not; Melted sugar, nor the most expensive of wines As long as I can feel your warm body close to me I need not; A blanket, nor a bonfire's luxury As long as I can see you every morning I wake, I need not; A mirror, nor a cloud, nor shade As long as I can keep you in every petal of memories I need not: Dreams, nor desires, nor fantasies And as long as I can hold you in every moment that I breathe, I need not; Oxygen, nor blood, nor heartbeats.

the saddest thing is to bea minute to someone,when you've made them your eternity.

I wish to stay drenchedforeverin those rain-blue eyesin those...soul-reaching crystalsnot moving a musclenor breathingjustsavoringthis turquoise acheagainst my heart.

i have laughedmore than daffodilsand cried more than June.

Tea is just an excuse.i am drinking this sunset, this evening.and you.

sometimes i wake upin the middleof the nightand findpoetry splatteredall over my bed.

there is some achingthat will only heal...in the mosque of sleep.

A rain like melting pillows…a rain so beautifulI could neverhave let go ofif not certainthat someday...it would find its wayinto my poem.

This winter, there will be no voices, no glimpses, no arms.only the fabric of poetry, to keep me warm.

Give mea moon-blanket nightto keep me warma long-gone smileto comfort mea pair of rain-blue eyesto haunt mea simple soul...to love me.

If my life were a fragrance, it would smell like the sea.

how these words, wait to diein the arms of all the poetry..yet to be written.

I am filled time and againwith a heart-aching wonder when I thinkof the fireand frost of memoriesof the everlastingnessof lovethe solace of familyand the power of prayer.

Poems can getsleepless tooand becomethe loneliest thingin the universe.

Every heart must have its privatebestseller book.

As the sky prepares to settle its tired, aching feetinto the night’s velvet slippersI settle, into my armchair, soaking the teabag,of my thoughts, into warm liquidy stars.

Maybe life is all about twirling under one of those midnight skies, cutting a swathe through the breeze and gently closing your eyes.

it was the kind of moonthat I would want to send back to my ancestorsand gift to my descendantsso they know that I too,have been bruised...by beauty.

i want to stay curled and cosiedand chocolated....foreverin my mother’s arms.

There is somethingmystically sadand beautifulabouthowi will neversee youagainbut meet youagain and againin poetry.