Shall I but keep posting a star of wallaby hunches
o'er the wall on high,
so to speak of woe-begone days,
my shipwrecked dreams upon the sand dunes,
e'ery passing minute in heaven's high bower;
this world of eclipsed doom to bloody
tyrant time,
that bewailing night asleep:
wide awake from deep inside of unattended looks
no love can hide in waking hour;
of surpassing wit thy brow to eternal bliss,
ah, but to think thee better off my mind,
away from some snowflakes in winter cold
her enchanting slogans of disparity,
a love-sick thought in wattle and daub,
cockerel's crow beside the bed of oak,
of eyes so blind amidst rose-coloured glasses
at sunset of the evening sky,
e'ery flower upon a barren heath,
that to my adversary's most high deserts
shows not half thy part where I
my feet hath tread upon the mundane shell.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Sunday, November 22,2015 6: 10: 45 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem