Angel Of Louis Poem by Naveed Khalid

While besate upon the stone
of Bohan,
of strangled looks at midnight lease
this world is but woe-betide,
forshadow'd by white foams of wrath
the sea, in dismal shades of age-old grey
beside the bed of oak,
a wreck'd boat, of way too far,
a golden clime;
I still behold e'ery flower upon
a barren heath:
against the setting sun at my door
of rosemary garden,
small minions that arise
from dust cover'd page of
thy book, out spread in leaves
of autumn,
half-way between the carpet upon
her night-long love
under the Archangel's brow!
my shipwrecked dreams of fair weather days
in the mellowing spring,
of darken'd earth's infernal grove,
thy most high deserts forlorn,
still musing o'er the dale in silent
hours of soliloquy,
of first frost her falling winter
snow at clover beach,
clay and wattle-made thistles
upon the sand dunes,
of plucked parsley, hibiscus that grow
and wither in time's waste,
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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All Rights Reserved.

Date Created: Tuesday, January 03,2017 2: 48 PM

* Re-Written on Wednesday, January 04,2017 11: 34: 42