Naveed Khalid


Naveed Khalid Poems

601. Quintessence 11/7/2014
602. Beehive 9/18/2014
603. Starfish 10/5/2014
604. Number 13 9/3/2014
605. Easter 9/3/2014
606. Christmas Eve I 9/3/2014
607. Bonfire 9/3/2014
608. Rhapsody 9/1/2014
609. Cleopatra 6/18/2017
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

Meanderings

This world that leads me on to where no feet hath tread,
Nor no scope of light to my eyes so blind;
And all doors are shut under the bolted sky
Of thy unattended presence with no destiny in sight,
More bright that crimson bed of wanton tapestry at thy throne,
Uneclipsed of looks so fair, my love, from thy fairest brow,
La rose! moves me more so than by thee what I write
Through e'ery pouring shadow ere thine unweird eye:
Some vulgar paper to rehearse, too deep for woe,

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