Alhambra Poem by Naveed Khalid

Thus, of parting words in much too
wreckage of a nerve,
beside the oak, of wayfarer's clime,
a broccoli, beneath the sheer
taut surface, outspread in leaves
of autumn,
against the setting sun at my door
to count I my shipwrecked dreams!
of e'ery skipped beat down the lane
in amber woods,
no heart can afford to play a hunch
for the parade,
of plucked parsley, e'ery flower upon
a barren heath,
led me to rosemary garden;
while musing o'er the dale in silent hours
of soliloquy,
her night-long love needest not
in nurslings of immortality,
so fairly lost scope of days that are gone
in my bed of crimson joy,
a burning goblet in the rainforest
shook off his head like a soring
thumb impression,
of paradisiacal injunctions this world
of darken'd earth's infernal grove
under the hedgerow of a cottage-hill,
heaven hath her golden bough in the tree,
of clay and wattle-made thistles
by the stream, flow to eternal bliss
in waking hour first frost of falling
winter snow in rosemary garden.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Friday, December 30,2016.3: 30 PM