Not a word, not a word they speak so fervently
of what in thy argument too dear to weigh the air,
most vehemently her amorous cries in secret influence comment;
deaf to the ear one more time in sweet-scented letters,
that in silent hours of soliloquy, my love
away from departed look to my shipwrecked dreams,
full glorious sun of our common affairs in rosemary garden!
conspires against the stony Arabia of thy most high deserts:
that shows not half thy part of woe-begone days beyond the sunrise,
I still am warbling o'er thy song of songs with pen-pricked angels,
that in rhyming footsteps by the sea-ashore, heaven-ward bent
such darlings insights of thy graceful ease beside the oak;
e'ery skipped beat in the late evening, of eyes so blind,
from off thy graceful ease this fedora of yore dream;
of untamed heart and cold that merry-weather day
holler! holler! until nothing stirrs the mind,
that in silent hours of soliloquy sits still musing o'er the dale,
our little john upon the sand dunes, slowly drifting away
from e'ery flower upon a barren heath ere thine unweird eyen.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Thursday, January 21,2016 8: 47: 35 PM
Thursday, January 21,2016 8: 48: 38 PM
Thursday, January 21,2016 8: 53: 17 PM
Thursday, January 21,2016 8: 54: 35 PM
Thursday, January 21,2016 9: 19: 43 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem