Thus, so spake I in silent hours
of soliloquy,
not far from the backdoor
of rosemary garden,
of cut-out trees in the rainforest,
such darling insights from nowhere
arise, arise!
against e'ery flower upon a barren heath
this world of thy most high deserts,
of woe-begone days my shipwrecked dreams,
I could have a clear view of that man
in the moon,
that in obliviion of a host still musing o'er the dale,
heaven-ward bent thy iron car at matilda's farm,
of eyes so blind in haystack of woods,
agaes that are dead upon the sand dunes,
of plucked parsley beside the oak,
our little john of harplings in the late evening,
of fealty's Apollo under the Archangel's brow.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2016.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Saturday, January 30,2016 12: 10: 13 PM
Saturday, January 30,2016 12: 13: 31 PM
Saturday, January 30,2016 12: 13: 55 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem