Of no use in vain words to account for love,
that in largess of some thought
to my decaying form abides,
her lichens of desire in modern electra
of e'ery fig leaf in autumn wind
through studded feelings arise
from out of the blues in still waters;
my feet half-sunk in stony ripples
of what in thy presence most abounds:
the crow's quill beside, hisbiscus that grow in violet hues,
away from out of sight in Hades of a star
against that forfeited dark more bright
than what I write through e'eryday happenings;
oft in precious minutes waste this world of far-off places,
alas, too but less travelled by my untread feet,
moves afoot to eternal bliss in waking hour
than if from a bowl of stars you drink,
that in secret influence comment,
I fain would bring to the page to confide with thee alone.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Tuesday, November 25,2014 1: 57: 58 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem