A Honey Comb Poem by Naveed Khalid

Then, a straw hat on knees
in ruffled feathers,
some dry leaves of book
in autumn,
so vainly put in my bed
of crimson joy,
a table, a chair not least can move
me more against the setting sun:
such vague impressions of poetry
from nowhere arise, arise,
the music of her anklets I hear,
deaf and dumb to the ear
one more time
her night-long love,
of woebegone days under
the canopy of a hut,
sticks out his head like a soring thumb;
full ripe gourd of hazel nuts
in my account,
where squirrels make hoards
in haystack of woods,
first frost of falling winter snow
at christmas eve,
tinged with star of old,
clay and wattle-made thistles
by the western isle,
flow to eternal bliss in waking hour,
pebbles and stones in the ocean sink
this darkly drowned enigma of yore
drifting dream amiss,
o'er a timeless tide by the sea-ashore,
of eclipsed doom this earth's infernal grove.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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All Rights Reserved.

Date Created: Tuesday, November 01,2016.4: 18 PM

Title Revised: A Honey Bee