Lapis Lazuli I

I am an amateur poet:
I've been doing poetry in my head
since childhood,
but know not if it's e'er going to end,
not as long as the babe lies
in a cup-shelled flower,
for his lady would inspire,
her name is Lapis Lazuli,
the JEWEL of October's wintry night,
still hangs to the mast-shaft at north
in heaven's high bower,
the autumn wind that blows,
of wrinkled lip in my spilt words,
too deep for woe,
turns syllables upside down;
or with the re-post tell us
what she first shared with him in infancy,
those thin violet vapours, blow them too!
'til poetry flows through him,
like early morning dew,
as if he resists to grow
in the light of the sun;
the old man watches him
from the corner of his eye;
his clips of winged poesy,
twice by far removed from thee,
upon the page is printed, printed.

(C) Naveed Khalid

Copy Rights (C) 2012.
All Rights Reserved.

Date Created: Thursday, February 02,2012 5: 42: 33 PM

by Naveed Khalid

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