Me not myself to claim
of such presences that stirr the mind
against false pretense to vague impressions,
the reality of yore dappled things
bespeaks of love her enchanting slogans of disparity,
this world beside that crow's quill
of my shipwrecked dreams,
I most my heart hath fed
in nurslings of immortality,
of eyes so blind that day of unaltered eye,
goes soaring high above the dale
with pen-pricked angels at sunset of the evening sky.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Saturday, September 26,2015 1: 35: 33 PM
Titled revised with 'A'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem