Artisan Poem by Naveed Khalid

No! not in autumn of thy book, but flowers fall, leaves wither,
that he who loves him will die in torpid desires of timeless tide;
nor the light that casts a shadow can e'er live without thee in whose company
I stand apart from all the panorama of this world:
look at the sun! it does not go away; and everything
remains fore'er in the eyes of the Lord!
look at the golden ring! it is still a burning bush,
like a moor through hills in many splendid ways
by the stream to eternal bliss, a cypress boat, is sailing away
from heaven's high bower where blushed rose smile;
sing in the fall, our Poet sits brooding o'er the dale,
and down the lane in amberwoods such threads of thought in wild ecstasy
of pure heaven against the windowsill of moon-lit wedded night,
weave a silken satin around his head at summer's prime;
some dry leaves of haystack and straw are closely connected stars in elevator type passages:
a horse on saddle touched the ground upon the sand dunes by the sea unto my shipwrecked dreams;
whence else oft he visits us in silence of half-baked masonry night upon a golden clime:
while he us'd to play castles in the air alone,
but no more! no more his love of this wonderland can be in reality
of the mind every looking glass that shows not half thy part,
beside the oak, his majestic footsteps at my door still to my decaying form abide,
this song of the harplings echoes from thy ancient lyre in the cellar-barn.

(C) Naveed Khalid

Copy Rights (C) 2012.
All Rights Reserved.

*Revised and re-written on: 22: 47 pm
Sunday, September 21,2025.
(C) Naveed Khalid

Copy Rights (C) 2012.
All Rights Reserved.