Poetry in beauty

Description poetry

What the poets paid most attention to in their poetry was their description of the beauty of the beloved with the smallest details, and the severity of the lostness that they go through before the magic of the eyes of the beloved. Also, the subject of their description went beyond flirtation to describe the beauty of nature and the trees, animals, birds, plants, etc. in it, and in this article we will include some of them. Beautiful descriptive poetry with its various topics.

Describing the beauty of the beloved

Descriptive, flirtatious poems abound, and you can find them in almost all poets. Among them are the following poems:

Do you know that you are the mother of beauty?

Abdul Muti Al Dalati

Do you know that you are good news for us?

And you are goodness overflowing here

Do you know that you are the source of life?

He travels through time and tells the story

Do you know that you are the mother of camels?

Dalal's daughter and Al-Sana's sister

And when you wore the hijab

Highness, height on the curve

You veiled beauty, so you attained majesty

And your goodness for purity has been declared

You created manhood, the mother of men

I built.. so I raised those who built

Childhood embraced in its cradle

You were the shelter and the dwelling place

Your heart spreads the warmth of tenderness

And stop wiping away the burden from us

If you are satisfied, you will be satisfied with life

And laugh if you laugh at us

For you, the song was sung and chanted

It flutters around you until it comes close

All letters migrate to you

And the dignity of the sperm falls to you

Hovering over you.. and sheltering you

And you want to have a home here

Come let us build the bottom line

With two halves: from you.. and from me

Come, let us pray to the Lord of Existence

Let our lives be immersed in debt

Because you are you.. Because I am

Life goes smoothly with us

We have wronged you for a long time, so will you forgive?

And like you, he forgives those who have sinned

Two nuns in the Beauty Monastery

Hamad Al-Osaimi

They always resort to crying if...

It's time to leave...

Sparks fly from the eyes...

And tears are flowing...

It is their legacy of love...

And from Buthain and from Jamil..

And I want you more than others..

No crying or wailing...

Be elegant, beautiful and princess..

When departure comes..

Stand with your face to the sky like...

Palm trees …

And wear your pink dress..

And the long shawl..

Put color on your lips...

Crimson that won't go away...

Be like a white cat..

Like Gemini..

Like a phoenix

Like a playful cream...

Be all women then...

We lost our way...

The sun is the most beautiful thing...

If sunset comes...

I want you to be someone else...

Did I ask for the impossible?!!

Your eyes are the biggest refuge I know...

Times of war...

And I am the homeless one in the caves of eyes..

Zarqa from the land of the south..

Your eyes are two nuns in the monastery of beauty..

Pure from sins..

I turned to them to help me.

To repent..

So I want you other than them, so there is no crying..

No wailing...

So stand with your face to the sky...

Like palm trees..

I want you to be like this..

When leaving.

In describing a Siamese cat

Nizar Qabbani

Fatima takes off her shoes...

And pile up,

Like a Siamese cat in my palm

She throws her bag on a chair...

Her shopping bag was on a bench

And you enter...

In the first artery you come across.

Fatima takes off her names..

And he decided with amazing courage

To be my woman..

She takes the earrings out of her ears

She snatches the bracelets from her hands

She throws her rings...

And her hair pins on the floor

And her memory...and her similar days on earth

And it grows like a cocoa tree...

Under my clothes..

Choose the color of my curtains,

And the color of my notebooks,

She imposes on me her taste in food and love

And she murmurs with joy..

Like a Siamese cat...

Fatima Ali enters..

She places her women's magazines on my desk.

And her nightgown is in my closet.

And her hair tweezers are in my drawer...

She puts down her toothbrush,

near my toothbrush,

I realize that she decided to occupy me...

Fatima is bored with the shape of her breasts

And try to draw them again..

She orders her to turn into a bird.

There is nothing more wonderful than Fatima

When you leave the house of obedience

She neighs like a foal..

Under the sun of freedom.

Fatima leads a historic coup against her body.

And you receive power.

It puts its ministers in prison

Qais bin Al-Malawah, and Jamil Buthaina

And all the virgin poets are in prison

And all those who have mastered the art of love

They did not touch a woman’s finger...

And all those who talked about their feminist victories

without getting hurt

With one stab...

Or with one kiss

Or a single heart attack.

And all those who wrote about the hell of sex

They did not sleep with a fly.

Fatima announces to the masses who came to pledge allegiance to her

And in a moment of honesty that Arabs do not know

she is my love..

Fatima rejects all texts whose authenticity is questionable

It starts from the beginning of the line...

All manuscripts written by males are torn up

It begins with the alphabet of femininity.

And you read in the book of my mouth.

Migrating from cities of dust

She follows me barefoot to the cities of water.

Jump off the train of ignorance

You speak to me the language of the sea.

She breaks her hourglass...

She takes me with her out of time...

Fatima thinks

-And Fatima is always right-

The movement of history begins from her eyes.

And that the first man,

He filled his cave between her breasts..

The music has no sound.

Colors have no colour.

And that poetry - if she raises her hand from it -

The door will close on itself,

And he commits suicide...

I admire Fatima's decisions

When you turn from a round stone

To a water fountain in an Andalusian house

It is a poem that is metered and rhymed

To a dove landing on my shoulder

And from a slave girl in Aaron’s court, the sixteenth

I am amazed by Fatima's foolishness..

When you run red lights

What historians have placed around her words,

And about her dreams...

And you shall slaughter them in their tent

One..one..

I am amazed by Fatima's indifference

She appoints me as a guard over her breasts

With an amount of ten thousand kisses

In one night...

I love Fatima

When she drinks her morning coffee,

And you drink me..

And I love her more

When you confirm to me:

that it will occupy the world,

And you occupy me..

She catches red fish

On the shores of my blood..

Fatima arrests me under her wings

I don't know when the night ends

And when does the day start?

At the hands of Fatima

And a good fighter

She also taught me to love her well

And at the hands of Fatima

I learned that liberalism is a woman.

He is an intelligence man...

Who did not know Fatima?

He did not know what the greatest works of God were.

Fatima is devastated

All bottles of Arabic medicine

And all the prisons of Arab love

It takes me out of the stability of the Arabic text

It opens the door to diligence for me.

Fatima

She is the most important woman among the women of the world.

He carried a weapon with her.

Who did not know Fatima?

He did not know what the greatest works of God were.

He did not know what poetry was..

Fatima is devastated

All bottles of Arabic medicine

And all the prisons of Arab love

It takes me out of the stability of the Arabic text

It opens the door to diligence for me.

Fatima

She is the most important woman among the women of the world.

And I, the most important man who loved her

He carried a weapon with her.

O virgins of beauty, love, and dreams

Abu al-Qasim al-Shabi

O virgins of beauty, love, and dreams,

Rather, oh the splendor of this existence

We have seen the hair hanging down

Her beauty was crowned with roses in the morning

We saw the eyelids smiling...or dreaming

With light, with passion, with song

And we saw the cheeks, stained by magic,

Oh, the magic of those cheeks

We saw the lips smiling about this world

Of the roses, a tender blossom

We saw the breasts shaking like flowers

In the ecstasy of happy youth

A temptation that awakens love and inflames it

But what is behind the breasts?

What's behind her current magic?

Drunk, in that distant decision..?

Beautiful souls, like jungle birds

Chanting the magician of Twitter

Pure, like the most beautiful flowers

In the birth of the new spring?

And luminous hearts, like the stars of the night

Lost, like the tenderness of roses?

Or darkness, as if it were the pieces of night,

It is a horror that turns the heart of a newborn grey

And turmoil, rife with sin and shame

R, evil, and long shadows?

I don't know, maybe it's a delicious flower

He fought despite his well-known reputation

May God protect you from the darkness of the soul

And from the error of the willing conscience

The night for souls is a terrible night

Eternal sorrow, hideous immortality

The heart is filled with bitter pain,

He is miserable living a poor life

And the spring of youth is withered by time,

And he proceeds with his worshipful goodness

There is nothing left in the universe except beauty

The soul is blinded by eternal time

White woman's water

marginal student

The white woman

The same silence and listening...

Her pink beauty is spread out on the face of the stream

It was near the morning spring

She fills her silver cup with boiling water

Her transparent heart beats like a wave

Clear flowing water in the sunset.

The sun of its pure white dissolves

A female (white) drunken dia

In sight,

And the pomegranates rain down intoxicating drops

From the slaughter of my milky sweetness and perfume

I wish I had a woman

The fragrance is cultivated among the femininity of the flowers in the pots of the morning

Her pink face bathed in the fragrant music

Like a vase, hearts desire water!

To see the reflection of the purity of eye color in the flowers

Transparent as myrtle water

And the kisses that are not desired

Except in the sight of the sunrise

It melts between her sugared lips.

To smell like mint, the scent of basil breezes

Or the coma of teenage perfume

In hair falling down to the waist

In the processing of apples before picking them from their green mother, Al-Zahra

When the water spreads its fragrance over the steppes.

I wish I had a woman

To water it with the lavender of the cup and mint

To tell the story of the soul

Or to have my poison to drink upon death

The feminine light in the bloom of the summer night sky

Towards the paths of lovers

Where the full moon is wounded by its lust

He is guarded by his star brothers

A milky night embraces him

And wash it with the light water of the evening mistresses.

Where churches are high in sadness

Her silence floats in the night like secrets

Its light, born from the remorse of the suns, rises

To the refineries of sadness to cry for Jesus who was lost

And praise under the touch of bells

It wakes the bereaved Maryam to all the crying!

Where poems are intoxicants of return

The secrets of sweet metaphor raise it to miraculousness

You raise it to the heaven of lovers

Qaysiat Laila Al-Amiriyya

So that you may become the virgin’s word in his secret conversations

And the little bits of beauty of sound

She climbs the ladder of chanting in her Sufi aura

Ya after ya.

The white woman

Calling softness small bathrooms,

The morning drops with their transparent cooing

Calling the sweetness of visions, and the sensitivity of the spectra

With the light that splits the water of femininity

Naked as a daisy,

Clear like the crescent moon.

It is our love for the clouds before they fall into the pool of desires.

The thread of sadness is tied to the string of bitter nostalgia,

Our soul's desire to die in the feminine homeland

To become a blind ripple on the face of the sand.

It is our longing to sleep in the fresh water stream

Like children

We return to the womb of the beginning, swimming

So that we can wander in the sky of color in spectra

Imagination creates it.

Hunching over the stream

Like the trunk of an old willow with tears

I see in the mirrors of water the shadows of women,

I see the flow of their desired beauty

rising above the sight of absolute whiteness,

And the snow that melts from their bodies

Like a blind questioner

Let femininity become a stream and flow...

Away to ponds that the deer will drink.

And I see the lustful woman being bathed in the pouring rain,

I see a girl bathed in the sun with soap

In the water of the clouds

To become the bride of lovers

When pomegranates appear in the trees in the morning...

I see apple-fresh breasts

A fragrant nectar emerges from her desires

Albumin in the water.

If only I, O River, were given childhood

I do not lean on the banks of the water like a willow

I hear his voice flowing through the ears like bells

And the cradle over which the branches shake over its newborn

Mahdi !

If only I, O river, were given tranquility

I would have leaned on the milk of the spring like a weaned child

The thirsty person sighed

From my heat and my cold!

As if the line of water was under the inkwells of the willow

The thread of pleasure stolen from the light of black eyes

The thread of our nostalgia connected to the distant mother

Before life becomes a view from the balcony of the past

To the regret of heaven.

As if the white woman is the last thing we like among women

Description of nature

Some of the greatest nature poets are the poets of Andalusia who were fascinated by its enchanting nature, and we do not forget Abu Tammam, who excelled in this type of poetic themes, and the following are some of these poems.

In describing Medina Al-Zahra

Ibn Shakhis

These are the buildings of the Commander of the Faithful

He makes the end of the world worse than the beginning

In the same way, we found the sun to be the largest

A certain amount, even if it falls short of Saturn’s height

Al-Zahraa factory has been wiped out

The One who unites the destiny according to a similarity and from a similarity

Its virtues escaped the effort of its describer

Speaking is like being silent, and being brief is like making a mistake

Rather, its merit is among the buildings of the entire earth

Like the superiority of the state that built it over other countries

Al-Hanaya's bows almost rivaled her

The crescent of happiness, were it not for the stigma of evil

It was composed, and its deficiency became complete

Perhaps things become less complete

Its fullest teeth are at its highest point

From the pearls of creation during holidays

How many bird lovers have been

In it they go from prairie to prairie

If the pelvis stagnates, encourage them

On moving from one source to another

As if his alabaster tablets had been emptied

From afternoon water that has neither frozen nor flowed

Or drove from the pages of the atmosphere on the day of clear

Paper because the sun is in Aries

He gently touched his cheeks and ran

The water of modesty in the hour of shame

If the blossoms of stars meet above it, it becomes

It erupts from its water without a flame

And if the breeze of the wind blows it, you will think it

The sword plate was shaken by the hero's hand

The edges of eternity have softened and are passing away

Abu Tammam

The edges of eternity have softened and are passing away

And the dust began to disintegrate in its jewels

The beginning of the summer camp descended in praise

And the hand of winter is new and does not deny

If it were not for the one who planted winter with his palm

The summer camp found fruitless shoots

How many nights he grieved the country himself

Therein is a day and his blood is mutilated

Rain that melts the day after it

It's almost clear, it's raining

Rain, for the skies are clear rain

You have his face, and wakefulness is full of rain

Dew, when applied to the earth

The clouds came to him and he was excused

Our spring was in nineteen Hajj

Indeed, here is the blooming spring

The days were not robbed of joy

If only a well-trained garden would last long

First you see things if they have changed

It was smooth and beautiful when the earth changed

My friends, look closely

You will see the faces of the earth how they are depicted

You see a sunny day that has turned gray

The flower of usury is as if it were moonlit

The world is a pension for the next, even if

The spring is clear, but it is a sight

She began to shape her stomach to match her appearance

A light that almost illuminates hearts

From every flower dripping with dew

It was as if an eye was descending upon him

It appears and is veiled by the clouds as if it were

A virgin who appears at times hidden

Until her guidance and help became apparent

Two categories in spring dressing strut

Yellowish and reddish, as if it were

Right nerve in the jugular nerve is damaged

From the green leaf of the plant, as if it were

A pearl that is split before then saffron

Or shining in red, as if

He approaches him from the yellow air

He made what had not been for the marvels of his making

It is no longer yellow, it is green anymore

A creation emerging from spring as if

The character of the Imam and his available guidance

On earth is due to the justice of the Imam and his presence

And from the young plant there are lamps that blossom

Riyadh and what is tamed to do are forgotten

Never mentioned throughout the nights

When the caliph becomes dark, something happens

Ain al-Huda and his caliphate is a quarry

Her movements increased and were noticeable

For a while, she seemed to be thinking

I still know that the knot of her matter

In his palm since you made a choice

Time has passed, there is no blameworthy hand

For accidents, and no one is afraid of evil

He organized the country and it became as if it were

A contract that has justice as its essence

There was nothing left of a desolate place that had not dried up

Whoever mentions it, it is as if it is present

A king who is always proud in his days

Its whiffs are few and many

Let it be difficult for the nights after that

To be afflicted with hardship with their expenses

In the land of Andalusia

Ibn Safar Al-Marini

In the land of Andalusia, Amaa enjoys happiness

And the heart does not part with happiness

Its rivers are silver and its soil is musk

And the prick is its meadow, and the pearl is pebbles

And the air has a kindness that pleases

He who does not feel compassion and whims appear from him

The breeze that blows it is not magic

There is no spread of the deer’s mechanisms

But I hope the peer is aroused by it

In rose water, so it was good around

Where does it reach what I classify?

How does what you obtained contain statistics?

It was distinguished from the sides of the earth when it appeared

Unique and distinguished by the water

It circled a broader scale that flickered

They found her beautiful when she appeared

That is why the flower smiles in it out of mirth

And the birds sing and the branches listen

In it, virgins were taken off, and there was no substitute for it

It is Riyadh and all the land is desert

Spring has arrived

Al-Bahturi

Spring has come to you, strutting around laughing

So good that they almost spoke

Nowruz alerted in the dark

The first words were yesterday, they were asleep

hail of dew cracks it, as if

He utters a hadith that was concealed before

And from the trees spring restores its clothing

upon it, as you have published a miniature

Resolve, so show the eyes a screen,

It was an eyesore, as it was forbidden.

And the breeze of the wind, until I counted it

He brings the breath of loved ones, yes

What detains the breath that you are in,

And what prevents the strings from singing?

And you are still vinegar for the regretful when they get high,

And they went around looking for stars

You deigned to pour cups upon them,

But they were not able to express any respect towards you

Didn't the bird speak loudly?

Ibn Khafaja

Didn't the bird speak loudly, until it spoke?

The branch weakened for him until he was disturbed

So he filled with joy between a faint shadow

Moist and water there snaked

Walk in the garden, Mona's sister

Come closer to Madama, the mother of rapture

And a pregnant woman from the daughters of Qena

Amalida bears fresh greens

fir, leafy, virgin,

And she laughs, brightly, about Shanab

And he calls her in the wind of youth

An aquamarine that yielded gold

Sometimes her breath hitches,

And sometimes you flirt with her closely

She smiled in a state of satisfaction

And she looks on with anger