A Drum Beat Poem by Naveed Khalid

Of auburn looks this world
beside the oak,
can ne'er illumine e'ery flower
upon a barren heath,
a host of crowd among daffodils,
sticks out his head like a soring
thumb impression,
still wed to my thought of laurel wreath
thy myrtle crown,
against the setting sun at my door
of rosemary garden,
thick dark night of first frost
her falling winter snow,
too soon shall settle on thy brow
of forsaken wit,
such drifting dream amiss
in hilarious intoxication
of the mind;
while musing o'er the dale in silent
hours of soliloquy,
above the mundane, her night-long love,
of way too far a golden clime,
I still behold by the western isle;
a broccoli, beneath the bed of crimson joy,
her cheeks are red; heart of coral-made,
of brittle-clay breaking, breaking
my shipwrecked dreams of ages that are dead
upon the sand dunes, of wrinkled lip
in my spilt words you play a hunch for the parade
in morning's pure serene under the bolt'd sky,
full-fathom five thy battled bones,
not least in favour with the star
of thy most high deserts,
of darkened earth's infernal grove.


(C)Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Wednesday, December 21,2016 3: 04 PM