Archangel's Wing Poem by Naveed Khalid

See! how I my days hath spent away
from high heavens,
far more be looked upon with such
awe and wonder,
that her muse still in argument with thee,
of days that are gone in vague impressions
of poetry,
against all odds, all vicissitudes of the sky
thy most high deserts:
floundering flies of unfathomable sea
in reality of the mind at midnight lease this world
all woe to my shipwrecked dreams;
the boat is slowly drifting from the sand dunes,
of clay and wattle-made thistles by the stream,
e'ery flower upon a barren heath
under the Archangel's brow;
indeed! by thatch-eaves is run half-way
between the carpet upon her stumbled feet,
like to the lark at break of day arise,
the sun of our common affairs at Christmas eve,
first frost of falling winter snow with pen-pricked angels,
tolls the bell at my door of rosemary garden.

(C)Naveed Khalid

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All Rights Reserved.

Date Created: Wednesday, September 21,2016 5: 21 PM

Title Revised From A Martyr To A Salute To The Martyr To Archangel's Wing