Naveed Khalid


Naveed Khalid Poems

241. Algebra 7/14/2016
242. Cidar-Tree 7/17/2016
243. A Lily On His Brow 7/17/2016
244. Chameleon 7/20/2016
245. Aborigine 7/25/2016
246. Almanac 7/27/2016
247. Adam's Apple 7/30/2016
248. Boar 8/4/2016
249. Sanorita 8/9/2016
250. Alumni 8/15/2016
251. Torrential Rain 8/20/2016
252. A Kettle Drum 8/23/2016
253. Carpe Diem 9/12/2016
254. Cowslip 9/12/2016
255. A Martyr 9/21/2016
256. Abracadabra 10/1/2016
257. A Procession Of Horse-Riders 10/3/2016
258. Albino 10/9/2016
259. Ascent Of Sap 10/10/2016
260. A Boy 10/12/2016
261. A Tribute To Mother 10/12/2016
262. A Room Mate 10/17/2016
263. Poison Ivy 10/19/2016
264. A Gift Box 10/23/2016
265. Machete 10/24/2016
266. Macho 10/24/2016
267. Master 10/24/2016
268. Kabbalah 10/24/2016
269. A Youngman From Verona To The Library Archives 11/1/2016
270. A White Swan 11/1/2016
271. Stigmata 11/1/2016
272. Annelids 11/5/2016
273. Arbitrator 11/7/2016
274. Bowtie 11/9/2016
275. Bataclan 11/9/2016
276. A Squirrel's Song 11/9/2016
277. A Bend Too Deep For Woe 11/11/2016
278. A Global Village 11/17/2016
279. Fair 11/24/2016
280. A Compassed Ark 11/25/2016

Comments about Naveed Khalid

  • Nadia Umber Lodhi (5/12/2018 6:11:00 AM)

    Nice poetry beautiful words

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
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

Summer's Eve I

You're but the presager of mine eye, more eloquent!
Of timeless tide her love of burning gold;
And in words, too, hath served the painter's art,
What oft by ghastly night is marked by thee,
That grows by e'ery passing minute a star!
Has nothing than this fedora of your dream:
All roses fade, withered from their cheeks all red,
The desert in my eyes with salt of seven seas,
From afar by world's wit to prove my bride,

[Report Error]