Ploughman Ii Poem by Naveed Khalid

No! not least I know thee in tweak and twirl
of what by a feathered pen hath writ thrice,
a whorl wind of autumn beside the oak,
hath e'ery skipped beat to count I my shipwrecked dreams,
of unnerved blood in vein at midnight lease, my love,
a laurel wreath thy myrtle crown of thy most high deserts
against peace offering under the Archangel's brow!
this world in foams of wrath hath rent a falling star;
of fealty's Apollo at my door white swan's ethereal Wing,
shall break lose their oars to some rivulet blue:
needest not that man-in-the-moon, above the mundane,
a hedgerow of a cottage-tree at makatea,
paradisaical injunctions in haystack of woods,
where a picture hangs by the wall in the late evening,
of snow-capped myrtle at Minerva's golden bough,
along the pavement of cow parsley her furrowed fields,
away from morning's pure serene her departed looks,
our little john upon the sand dunes with pen-pricked angels,
opes a garden unto my unweird eyen, sweet maid.


(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Friday, February 12,2016 11: 45: 04 AM
Friday, February 12,2016 2: 44: 57 PM