Of A Wound and its Tale

I limp alone, with a hand on my breast
content I tried for the one I loved best,
clasping my cloak, tight in my hand
rushing to flee, from this dying land,
for since you have left, so has the red,
from the roses left rotting, rest of them dead,
the dirt in my wake, rising so lofty,
reminds me of the grass, once growing so softly
And now that I reminisce, I do of your hair,
a curtain of black silk, in the arid air,
your sunburned arms, and Apollo the cruel,
yet visage non dusky, myself but a fool
held no shade, but silence so dear,
awaited the sunset, the vanquisher of fear,
but the only twilight, the omen of dark,
came therein, ushered a truth so stark,
it imprecated patience, and cursed my being,
blind is a man, whom with eyes unseeing,
looks to the horizon, for the end of the night
but dares not invoke, the sun from shear fright,
A moon it was, that seemed never to wane,
red and rising, to the sky in disdain,
the only hope, was the coming of dawn,
but the sun would be yours, forever and anon,
and Lo! it came, casting a sullenly light,
drowning my world in its melancholy sight,
Drying the wells and wilting the leaves,
Filling the air with my woeful heaves,
That was the time, first when I knew,
price of my bliss, was the memory of you,
but everything fades, and dreams are a part
of losing the ones we hold in our hearts,
let it be known, you did not leave alone,
and left but a wound, to call but my own,
Today in the noon of this undying sun,
no place to hide, and no place to run,
and although it glows now furious still,
it follows what seems her obstinate will,
to make me repent for the heart that I lost,
by burning my own, with the light in accost,
for I left you O woman, to an uncaring lover,
and the hole in my heart, is the one I now cover

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63 thoughts on “Of A Wound and its Tale

  1. Hello P&P…loved your poem…so poetically done…it was fun to read the rhythm you played, so joyously won! Thank you for stopping by and being a follower too, I appreciate your thoughts of kindness. All the best.

  2. you have a beautiful gift that you use beautifully….
    one who has lost a dream, had there heart broken….
    can relate even if words don’t say it aloud….
    Take care…
    I will enjoy following your thoughts….
    )0(
    ladyblue

    1. Although blogging is a wonderful experience in itself but it becomes all the more refreshing when I see writers from my own country sharing their work on this platform. Regardless, I look forward to reading your work Hira.
      Regards,
      Osama Iftikhar

  3. I know this feeling. It is really great to know if any of the fellow, from own country, is sharing in the wide sea of syllables. Thank you, for the kind words.
    I hope to read from your side, now and then. Glad to have stumbled across your this exquisite end.

    Bless you!

  4. What a beauty!Loved the flow & specially loved the lines ,”hat was the time, first when I knew,
    price of my bliss, was the memory of you,
    but everything fades, and dreams are a part
    of losing the ones we hold in our hearts,
    let it be known, you did not leave alone,
    and left but a wound, to call but my own.”

  5. A piece worth copying in my diary.. Beautiful. What’s remarkable is the fact that every person who’ll ever read this will get a glimpse of his/her own feelings in it.. There are times when people like me think ‘No, what we feel can never be expressed!’ and then people like prove us wrong with such a piece, which to me is like ‘see! i expressed it’.. The poem when stated these lines: “That was the time, first when I knew,……”, it was then that i felt indebted and had to leave a reply. Well done.

    1. Thank you so much Qandeel, your appraisal has truly flattered me, for which I can not help but feel embarrassed. You see, these words are as much the reader’s as they are mine, and that is why you can relate.
      Regards.

  6. Unworthy? I think not Sir. Thank you for following me and I look forward to reading your future posts.

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