A Ghazal Poem by Mushtaque B Barq

Ghazal

From the curls of hanging locks, the goblets two robbed the dew, how nice
This season in tattered hem, I shall have harvested a new, how nice

From the unkempt hair of the Harmukh shall cascade powder of joy
In dale from a window, an orphan can avail a view, how nice


Oriole on a limb, shall its string hold to let me write a song
Ah! This spring, daffodils and jasmine will add to my crew, how nice

The sword of petals shall keep piercing my cosy thorns and bushes
Haze of jealousy shall keep the rosy rush continue, how nice

From a fallen edifice of yore, a broken door and bone sighed
A residence of angels toss their heads from residue; how nice

Between the dual winds, a world of wonder calls for submission
A limping crow and blind dove for love but only argue, how nice

Let the strings not rely on loose grip and gamble with the nails
A song of love needs a gut dry and proper avenue, how nice.