Cauldron I Poem by Naveed Khalid

A bout of sea-sickness that tolls the bell
at my door,
cowslip her parted hair upon the sand dunes,
of eyes so blind beyond the sunrise,
that in a bunch of stars too but stirrs the mind;
of ages that are dead to my shipwrecked dreams,
a broccoli, beneath the bed of crimson joy
along the pavement of clay and wattle-made thistles by the stream;
of fealty's Apollo this world of thy most high deserts:
shows not half thy part at Minerva's golden brow!
e'ery flower upon a barren heath beside the oak,
my woe-begone days in the backyard of rosemary garden,
some shadow fell from myrtle in the late evening,
of untread places far-off upon the mundane shell,
my love of seventy winters have thy November
unto the stars in secret influence comment,
our little john of harplings with pen-pricked angels
opes a garden unto my unweird eyen, sweet maid.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Sunday, January 24,2016 11: 56: 37 PM
Sunday, January 24,2016 11: 58: 48 PM
Monday, January 25,2016 12: 06: 14 AM