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a poem by Naveed Khalid, Pakistan

Have I not come this far where nothing stirrs
the mind,
of e'ery departed look in the late evening,
still wed to my thought her night-long love,
of snow-capped myrtle in white swan's ethereal Wing,
at midnight lease this world all woe
in subtle reality of yore dappled things,
much too critic of printing press
her muse still in argument with thee:
small minions that arise from slumbers deep in rosemary garden
against e'ery flower upon a barren heath,
much too dearth of thy most high deserts,
drive me crazy down the lane in amber woods,
half-way between the carpet upon the sun of our common affairs,
walk a mile back home, while musing o'er the dale,
ask me questions of existence those stars you'd them beaker full,
beside the oak, such darling buds of may
under the Archangel's brow!
awake me but in dumb despair this darkly drowned
enigma of yore dream, my age-old love,
oft leaves me in dismay her enchanting slogans
of disparity, too shall fade away from high heavens
my shipwrecked dreams in full glorious days that are gone

(C) Naveed Khalid

Copy Rights (C) 2016.
All Rights Reserved.

Date Created: August 15,2016.4: 25 PM

* write
* 5363 3656: 19
* sisisisisisisisisisis
* 15 NG- 77 53

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