Of the blue moon, crescent like,
An arrow head, hanging over me.
The landscaped night was once,
A waterfall of desire on a clenched soul.
The sun rays were cutting through,
The stones; this time, none is master,
None a disciple either, none in love.
The black clad women, a wish though,
None to judge, and nothing of fortune.
The coming was not unlike going.
No other thought either to think.
Nothing has gone ripened like fruit.
The dry faces, and wet eyes,
All look askance for some happening.
Making the Invisible Visible: artist not known
Topic of this poem: love and art
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Comments about this poem (Some Happening by Sadiqullah Khan )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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