Of clay and wattle-made sweet little beauty
that walked around the hall,
her stumbled feet beyond the sunrise,
makes beauteous my nights,
by day's toil too bright in the late evening,
of snow-capped myrtle to my shipwrecked dreams
such darling insights besmeared with time,
hath rent at midnight lease e'ery flower upon a barren heath;
o'er the horizon in deep azure on wings, on wings,
beside the bed of oak a mundane shell,
this world of foul fawning bay at my door with pen-pricked angels,
no dark can e'er illumine under the Archangel's brow,
that crow in whose ruffled feathers,
a horse-on-saddle at his knee touched the ground,
all dressed up in your thought my mind,
where I my secret hath kept in a gift box of chocolates,
sugar-coated candies of apple tarts,
unto the stars in secret influence comment,
against many a departed looks, our little john,
I could see upon the sand dunes sit still musing o'er the dale.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy RIghts (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Saturday, January 23,2016 6: 09: 51 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem