Last Night Blues I Poem by Naveed Khalid

This that you know not by what cruel hand or eye,
that in age-old love of worn-out time,
sticks out his head through the staircase window
of a wall on high, above the archway;
a little mermaid sat on the stone of Bohan,
of golden tress her hair beside the clover beach,
like some soring thumb impressions,
oft marked by heavy daubs of colour in oily skin
to e'ery passer-by in dusty feet
from the corner of a street forty seven;
barefooted you tread the mundane shell
upon the strand of still waters:
not in all eternity of my country rhymes,
of what in vain words I seek to write
e'ery flower upon a barren heath;
more bright to illumine ere thine unweird eye
than that forfeited dark in hurtlings of past woe,
a youngman from Verona in nurslings of immortality,
I could see hung aloft the ghastly night.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Wednesday, October 15,2014 8: 49: 39 PM