A Blue-Eyed Pigeon

a poem by Naveed Khalid, Pakistan

Love of cruel heart cuts through vein
for smooth sailing,
away from high heavens in whose fell hand
the clock tells no time,
of perisher's dream that pelted grave,
still to my decaying form abides by the shore,
so full of glorious days in autumn
of thy book, the setting sun at my door;
goes soaring high above the dale in silent
hours of soliloquy; her night-long love
of seventy winters have thy November!
capped with snow, of haystack and straw
that old wooden house down the lane
in amberwoods, of wrinkled lip in my spilt words
upon the sand dunes thy most high deserts,
beside the oak, this world of veneral amores
runs in deep sorrows, pricked with soring
thumb impressions at clover-beach,
small minions that arise from off thy ancient lyre;
entombed within e'ery flower upon
a barren heath by the sweat of thy brow of first frost
her falling snow, my shipwrecked dreams:
the boat is slowly drifting away from where
I stood, unabashed lies dead, santa's mini skirt
of a dragon skin under the canopy of a hut,
half-way between the carpet upon a horse-shoe
in the stable lay barefooted, plays a hunch for the parade
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown in my bed of crimson joy,
beneath the sheer taut surface, of wayfarer's clime, a broccoli;
outspread among waded lots of wonton mire that half-baked
masonry's night blows the trumpet horn in the late evening.

(C)Naveed Khalid


Copy Rights (C)2017.
All Rights Reserved.

Date Created: Monday, September 04,2017 6: 47 PM


* Title Revised From: Blessings of Love To A Blue-Eyed Pigeon

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