Diorama Poem by Naveed Khalid

See! how this world too but barred of such looks,
that in silent hours of the night,
half-dumb, half-poisoned to the ear in ill-omen;
hath rendered numb my novice feeling
to fill my heart with love of thy most high deserts:
That wavering hand in sea of troubles,
so porous as the eyes far beyond the scope of sunrise,
that in darkling inkpot of ruffled feathers, too deep for woe;
oft I bring to the page in waste of words so blind,
so sickening to the bones, my love, at sunset of the evening sky,
of snow-capped myrtle at Minerva's golden brow:
against the turret of thy gracious muse in Hades of a star,
goes soaring high above the dale in my bed of crimson joy,
away from out of sight awhile but to think on thee
of e'ery fig leaf in autumn wind with pen-pricked angels,
hung aloft the ghastly night that crow's quill by the grove,
much too rendered in age-old grey, my mind,
lost in the twilight through e'ery pouring shadow,
pours forth in e'erything to that day of unaltered eye.

(C) Naveed Khalid


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Date Created: Wednesday, February 18,2015 5: 56: 32 PM