Sadiqullah Khan


@ Long After


All the more spoiled
My lines,
Getting longer
Stream of consciousness
No more concise
From monosyllabic
Becoming
Trochaic,
A spondee would either
Taught master Coleridge:
The foot
Is a stride,
My aleatoric experiment
A jumble of words.
Neither a classicist
Nor a neo-
A romantic or absurd
The Voices alas
Scribbles though
Much richer in thought
The Chaos
Without punctuation
Straight from heart,
From a mystic’s
Tutorship.
A maze of songs
Am neither a pupil
Nor a teacher.
The Waste Land
Proved
A collage asking
Critic’s apologies,
Having been written
By T.S. Eliot:
For Ezra Pound.
The bard’s verse
Something to reckon.
Your tresses in gold
An art to sculpt,
Nothing thus happens
After the happenings’
Happening, long after.

Submitted: Saturday, August 03, 2013
Edited: Friday, August 30, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
July 25,2013.
Photography: Walking A Line, by Richard Long @ Stacey Carey blog

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