Prickle Poem by Naveed Khalid

The wall on high that carries no burden
of sinless souls,
at the pedestal of thy throne;
pasta of well kneaded chocs and chums,
be my bread day and night;
some will dine the table, others will stand,
a cloth spread across the matted floor,
of untread feet upon the mundane shell,
half-way between lip and desire:
measured by a distance of the world
that meeting place of love-sick thought on thee,
I still hold dear to my shipwrecked dreams,
serves the menu of sweet-heart's memories,
from past woes made new
some dry leaves of book in autumn,
pulpy enough mud-salt upon the sand dunes;
full moon o'er the horizon in deep azure,
that boat decked ashore, slowly drifting
away from the golden banks of silken satin.

(C) Naveed Khalid

Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.

Date Created: Thursday, December 17,2015 3: 54: 40 PM