Hall Of Fame Poem by Naveed Khalid

Methinks not of so rich thy charms bereft of sight
that half-baked masonry's night,
that hides from eternals a wayfarer's clime
on top of the trees my shipwrecked dreams,
of e'ery departed look at my door this world
before the sun of our common affairs,
her stumbled feet upon the sand dunes,
be made new under the bolted sky in the late evening:
of days that are gone by the sea-ashore,
needest not I in nurslings of immortality beside the oak
thy iron car at Matilda's farm in full bright summer
such darling buds of may in my bed of crimson joy
away from high heavens her enchanting slogans of disparity;
ah, in slumbers deep fills me with thy most high deserts
against the wall on high by two lovers dead,
full fathom-five thy battled bones,
of first falling winter snow her night-long love,
much too critic of printing press
some dry leaves of book in autumn,
that day of Christmas eve I still behold under the Archangel's brow.

(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy rights (c) 2016.
All rights reserved.

Date Created: Monday, July 04,2016 10: 54: 01 PM