Akhtar Jawad

Gold Star - 111,945 Points (8-2-1945 / Gorakhpur)

The Old Watch Dog - Poem by Akhtar Jawad

In comes the dawn with his fore finger,
in the grips of aurora,
and Venus now shining as a morning star,
looking like an old watch dog,
started his fatigue,
frightening the twinkling sheep and goats,
gathered the scattered shining animals.
And the dawn! Holding in his left arms
the aurora now sleeping on his shoulders
played the last tune of life
on the flute of winds,
with all his goats and sheep,
disappeared somewhere in a blue land.
The game of life ended on the blue lands,
and started now on the green lands.
The old watch dog,
having offered the morning prayers,
asked the cute rose buds,
to leave their beds,
and get ready for the game of life,
advised them not to take it as a fatigue,
and to play it till the dusk like a game,
when the old lady brings back the beauty,
with her forefinger in the grips of aurora,
and declares the game of life
at the green lands,
is a passing show,
go back in the nests of green leaves
talk to the shining moon,
and sleep in the thoughts of the moon,
wish you a peaceful sleep,
and a moon that may bring,
sweet dreams for you!
The tired old man
now removes the skin of a watch dog
and asks the old woman,
to be some more pleasant and beautiful,
and inspire him to write a new love poem.

Topic(s) of this poem: watching


Comments about The Old Watch Dog by Akhtar Jawad

  • Kelly Kurt (1/12/2016 12:28:00 AM)


    Flowing, visual, sensory. There are insufficient words to describe the art you share with us (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
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  • Valsa George (1/11/2016 11:32:00 PM)


    The comparison of Venus to a watch dog is quite apt! The poem abounds in a series of beautiful and striking images! Enjoyed reading! (Report) Reply

  • Rajnish Manga (1/11/2016 9:57:00 PM)


    Your expressions linger long after we are through the game of life ends in the blue and enters in the green. Wow! A look at the line I quote will further vouch for my assertion:
    The old watch dog,
    having offered the morning prayers,
    asked the cute rose buds,
    to leave their beds,
    (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »



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Poem Submitted: Monday, January 11, 2016

Poem Edited: Monday, January 11, 2016


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