Canvas Poem by Naveed Khalid

No more, no more of what I hath writ in vain
be worthy of thy perusal
against e'ery stealing charm that fades away;
of departed looks in fair form this world,
heaven-ward bent in the late evening,
where I my feet hath tread upon the mundane shell,
rest content be oblivion in the backyard
of my garden:
e'ery flower upon a barren heath
along the pavement of cow parsley,
my love of seventy winters have thy November,
a mistletoe on his back with pen-pricked angels,
squirrels make hoards in haystack of woods,
no dark can e'er illumine under the Archangel's brow,
freaked out of proportion in matter or substance,
e'ery falling star beweaps my outcast state forlorn,
a host of crowd among daffodils,
not least beyond a thought of zephyr wings
that by love-sick thought on thee,
I still behold that day of unaltered eye
upon the sand dunes,
a burning goblet in the rainforest
of some such snowflakes to e'er melting snow.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Sunday, November 29,2015 7: 24: 22 PM