While musing o'er the dale in silent hours
of soliloquy,
down the lane in amber woods,
full of granary in haystack and straw,
some dry leaves of book in autumn;
of wrinkled lip in my spilt words beside the oak,
too shall fade e'ery flower upon a barren heath,
in half-measured looks from afar I still behold
my shipwrecked dreams in rosemary garden;
of fealty's Apollo at my door this world,
darkly lit in thy abode under the Archangel's brow!
opes a walk-through gate of untread places far off
beyond the sunrise where blue-bells hang
by the wall on high, her enchanting slogans of disparity,
needest not thy iron car at Matilda's farm
heaven-ward bent that soldier's grave unknown,
away from what to my mind still in subtle reality
less defined by time, the music of her anklets I hear
still wed to my thoughta tapping noise o'er my head,
some shadow fell from myrtle in my bed of crimson joy,
rest content be oblivion of a host among daffodils,
of golden tress his hair upon the sand dunes
in full bright summer of days that are gone,
pricked with a furr coat in the cellar-barn,
her stumbled feet stampeded the throne,
of darkened earth's infernal grove thy most high deserts,
apart from where you tread the mundane shell,
I my secret hath kept at the gallows of thy feet.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2016.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Thursday,01 September,2016 7: 23 PM
Title Revised: From A Shoe Horse To A Horse Shoe To A Shoe Horse
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem