Naveed Khalid


Naveed Khalid Poems

601. I Am A Spoil 11/26/2014
602. Quintessence 11/7/2014
603. Beehive 9/18/2014
604. Starfish 10/5/2014
605. Number 13 9/3/2014
606. Easter 9/3/2014
607. Christmas Eve I 9/3/2014
608. Bonfire 9/3/2014
609. Rhapsody 9/1/2014
610. Catapult 9/1/2014
611. Laissez Faire 9/1/2014
612. Vineyard 9/1/2014
613. Blindman's Buff 9/16/2014
614. Sunburnt 9/3/2014
615. Opera 9/2/2014
616. Epitaph Ii 9/17/2014
617. My First Love 10/20/2014
618. Michael Angelo's Fresco: The Creation Of Adam 11/7/2014
619. Dovetail 12/5/2014
620. Hypnosis 12/19/2014
621. Archer Of Golden Bow 2/24/2015
622. Monty Python 10/7/2014
623. Wickerman 12/5/2014
624. Meanderings 8/20/2014
625. Autumn Leaf 9/2/2014
626. The Emerald Isle 8/24/2014
627. Hyperbole 9/19/2014
628. Esprit De Corps 1/31/2015
629. Diorama 3/11/2015
630. Coral Reeves 3/17/2015
631. Leaves Of Autumn Ii 2/3/2015
632. Song Of A Village Girl 9/18/2014
633. Last Night Blues Of Countryside 3/27/2015
634. Dead Poet's Society I 3/19/2015
635. Crow's Nest 2/16/2015
636. Nightshade 3/4/2015
637. Femme Fatale 9/2/2014
638. Cornfield 3/10/2015
639. Ode To Love I 9/2/2014

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Best Poem of Naveed Khalid

Ode To Love I

I'll not show thee, love, in summer's prime,
That by the sun before your eyes,
Hath fled as well in ethereal wings,
What in beauty's look you still behold;
And by a worthier pen is writ alone,
Against time's e'er changing face:
A shadow from the tree of wilderness,
Of May morning in the mellowing year,
Full ripe gourd of some hazel nuts,
Which to my decaying form abides,
The world of your sickening desires,
a bag of bones with two lovers dead;
Oft rich in colour more scope of things abound:
Eternity! shall have no place in heaven,
Or else...

Read the full of Ode To Love I

The Emerald Isle

What needest I this mirror that shows not half thy part,
Of ages that are dead under the Archangel's brow?
That through emerald eyes of titanic visions afar,
You paint me the picture of thy most high deserts,
Some unreflected Being, hid away from out of sight,
Hath beset many a maiden garden ere thine unweird eye:
Uneclipsed of looks so fair, my mind, by what I write,
Oft illumines more bright where least I find my love, abides by thee alone;
To fill the emptiness of e'ery fallin

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