Naveed Khalid Poems

I'll not speak to thee by what I write,
Of eyes so blind to my mind still unawares;
More blessed by what I know not,
Nor need to know what can ne'er be,
...

The fabric of that subtle thought I deny,
which to mind's eye still
holds perfect ceremony of words
to unending line, oft so blurred;
...

When at about time two we twain parted unawares,
Whilst all the panorama of this world beside,
Save I to beweep my outcast state forlorn;
That to a land of fairies abides by thee alone,
...

Methinks not in vain of what to my mind still,
I am warbling o'er his e'erlasting song,
that in thy graceful ease is more blessed
than in miseries to count I my reckoning days
...

When all the better part of me to account for love
of thy most high deserts,
that by beauty more to my eyes so blind;
of virgin mother born,
...

While where I stood alone amidst the debris of ruined ashes,
brimming with applause of some stray thoughts,
of furrowed fields against the harvest moon;
oft marked by what I write upon the strand of still waters,
...

What needest I in dark hours of the night,
That by day's toil but weary of such looks
To full bright summer at midnight waking;
While I stood at the door of million years from hence,
...

Not least by what you think of his same old facade,
That by writing more I'll but lose sight of thee;
When on Sunday morning I could see you from the gallery,
All wrapped in love of her golden thread of thought,
...

Thus, by night to remain confounded by thee alone,
Unmoved by what in beateous form in need of an eye;
That this world brings forth to my sightless view,
Soon as I depart from a hundred shadows by thy grave;
...

What it matters if not in words I write,
And nothing more against light
Than what by love to thee suffice;
Which if spread by Muse's wing,
...