Call this posterity but I'm posting these because I stumbled upon these once and lost them and managed to find them again (thank goodness). I am (and for some reason this comes across to people as being somewhat ironic) not really that fond of poetry. At all. Some of the exceptions, I guess besides lyrics and words in music, are those absurdist pieces by people like Russell Edson or those lines I carry around for appropriate occasions. Things like Sylvia Plath's "Oh Daddy" which I'd written on my old bedroom wall:

Every woman adores a fascist, the kick of the heel, the brute heart of a brute brute like you, oh daddy daddy, I'm through...

So below is a small set of poems, some of the few that have touched my heart. These poems are Rumi poems and they're of direct translation as opposed to the ones you'll find in most spirituality books. If you'll notice, many of them are vaguely erotic in nature. Considering Sufism and other like-minded philosophies, it's important to note that when Islam was spreading its influence, it was considered improper to depict people in art and the arts were preferred not to be sullied by the chaos of human relations and feelings and applied to an almost mathematical sense of idealism. That could have a lot to those with why I like these poems. They're taken from the Ghazals are more often than not, scattered across the many collections of his works, completely redone and "modified" from the original contexts. As creepy as that sounds, that may be why I'm posting them because this may give a better glimpse of the actual words. Plus, I get the distinct impression that Rumi was bisexual, regardless:

Ghazal 1393 (excerpted)

I was dead, I became alive;
I was weeping, I became laughing;
the power of love came, and I beheld everlasting power.
my eye is satiated, my soul is bold, I have the heart of a lion,
I have become shining Venus.

He said, "You are not mad, you are not appropriate to this
house"; I went and became mad, I became bound in shackles.

He said, "You are not intoxicated; go, for you belong not to
this party"; I went and became intoxicated, I became overflowing with joy.

He said, "You are not slain, you are not drenched in joy";
before his life-giving face I became slain and cast down.

He said, "You are a clever little man, drunk with fancy and
doubt, filled with imagination and skepticism";
I became a fool, I became straightened, I became plucked up out of it all.

He said, "You have become a candle, the qibla of this assembly";
I am not of assembly, I am not candle, I have become scattered smoke.

He said, "You are shaikh and headman, you are leader and guide";
I am not shaikh, I am not leader, I have become slave to your command.

He said, "You have pinions and wings, I will not give you wings and pinions";
in desire for his pinions and wings I became wingless and plucked of my feathers.

New fortune said to me, "Go not on the way, do not become pained,
for out of grace and generosity I am now coming to you."
Old love said to me, "Do not move from my breast";
I said, "Yes, I will not, I am at rest and remain."

my darkling earth gives thanks for my bent sky and sphere,
for through its gaze and circling I became light-receiving.
the sphere of heaven gives thanks for king and kingdom and angel,
for through their generosity and bounty I have become bright and bountiful.
The gnostics gives thanks that we have outraced all;
above the eight Heavens I have become a shining star.
I was Venus, I became the moon, I became the two hundred-fold sky;
I was Joseph, henceforth I have become waxing Joseph.
Famous moon, I am yours, look upon me and yourself,
for from the trace of your smile I have become a smiling rosegarden.

Move silently like a chessman, yourself all tongue,
for through the face of the king of the world
I have become happy and blissful.

(Tell me, especially that last stanza, that that isn't vaguely erotic?)

Ghazal 1919

This is love: to fly to heaven, every moment to rend a hundred veils;
At first instance, to break away from breath
first step, to renounce feet;
to disregard this world, to not see with your own eye
I said, "Heart, congratulations on entering the circle of lovers,
on gazing beyond the range of the eye, on running into the alley of the breasts."

Whence came this breath, O heart? Whence came this throbbing, O heart?

Bird, speak the tongue of birds: I can heed your cipher!
The heart said, "I was in the factory whilst the home of water and clay was abaking.
I was flying from the workshop whilst the workshop was being created.
When I could no more resist, they dragged me;
how shall I tell the manner of that dragging?"

Ghazal 1506 ("Not Like This Before")

I wasn't like this before.
I wasn't out of my mind and senses.
Once I used to be wise like you,
not crazy, insane and broken down
like I am now.

I wasn't the admirer of life
which has no trace, no being.
I used to ask, "Who is this?
What is that?"
and search all the time.

Since you have wisdom,
sit and think
that probably I was like this before.
I haven't changed much.

I used to try to make
myself better than everybody.
I hadn't been hunted
with the ever-growing Love before.
I tried to rise above the sky
with my ambition
yet I didn't know
I was just wandering in the desert.
At the end, I have raised
a treasure from the ground.

in desire for his pinions and wings I became wingless and plucked of my feathers.

Ich bin hier allein.

Ich liebe dich.

I love Rumi's poetry! I don't believe he was bisexual, there's a lot of literature written by men that shows a lot of...affection...for their male friends that just isn't shown too often in our culture today.