Bong Tree Poem by Naveed Khalid

No raptures wild shall I make thee
of a drab note,
her stumbled feet unawares
that by love-sick thought on two lovers dead,
came out of bed but of late,
a hang-o'er or something,
of her beauty's looks to my mind still
that star in secret influence comment,
of ages that are dead in my bed of crimson joy;
that crow's quill beside my shipwrecked dreams,
full glorious sun of our common affairs,
ah, goes blind of his own shadow at sunset of the evening sky,
some dry leaves of book in autumn beyond the sunrise,
oft through studded feelings arise, arise,
under the hedgerow of a cottage-tree,
a-going, a-going to that day of unaltered eye.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Wednesday, October 21,2015 12: 09: 32 AM