a poem by Naveed Khalid, Pakistan

Methinks not so blind of what in deep azure,
Oft I write to the setting sun by the western isle;
That in hurtlings of past woe to the effulgent sky,
The fabric of subtle thought that I deny thee most,
Of age-old love that to my decaying form abides,
More bright to illumine this world ere thine unweird eye:
Than that forfeited dark under the canopy of a hut,
Can e'er hope to arise through e'eryday happenings;
Of whom, they say, like a blind, crooked, old fool,
Keeps staring through the staircase window of the wall;
Alas, but leaves my mind to unhindered scope of light,
A bunch of stars to collect by the sea-ashore,
That in my smooth sailing rhyme, slowly drifting dream amiss,
Of golden tress his hair upon the strand of still waters.

(C) Naveed Khalid

Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.

Date Created: Sunday, October 05,2014 10: 14: 49 PM

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