Forever Sonnets (Poetry Blog)

I feel a crying chill, I can't work my will, Oh! angry rain drops let me cross the Maggie bridge. Let the lily river hide the moving ridge, Till I reach my dream villa. I do see an angry gale, flying over a frenzy dale, through rosewood into winter's pale. I see a ghost of clouds, not any cheering crowds I see a foreign quail, robbed on road, and crying a loud-- I am a wet fairy, walking hurry hurry, I feel a fever in my liver. green river go with glory, The wild wind made me tremble and shiver, Is it rain or the firestorm? I do naught see a lorry, Mercy, I have my umbrella, and I escape rubella. I sing my way mine own sad story, My days which were best dull and hoary hoary, Fate,  you've got my maiden heart in some unfamiliar territory. © Affaq Naibe

You are fairest in your affairs and this song refers  When first time; you came up to my sight,  You had long hairs shining like the coral heads. Which excites the eyes and are high priced. You are fairest in your affairs and this song refers.... You've faught a long battle against the injustice. In context to liberate your people from the slavery,  And have upheld some of your rustic values, A single lady carried life's mission with bravery. You are fairest in your affairs and this song refers.... A fair shape, fancy wear and  the hair gray,  Selling the flowers on her little barco  Into the shadows of hidden sorrow. O fair Maid!  You are fairest in your affairs and this song refers.... Nobody pass away empity hands by your street,  From strangers we heard your beautiful treat, Aye!  you've costumed your cottage clean and neat,  That guard's it's walls into the oak trees, You are fairest in your affairs and this song refers....

Strange is this story where it begin with,  And where it broke up, could someone,  Recount to me about these heavens ?  Could someone recite to me about this gala- ?  Could someone reveal to me about this Festival of hankering on the heaven- ?  Even I don't learn, even he feels not certain,  I saw a smoke that blow up from a candle,  And then a shortened delight shooke up,  This dream that I'm seeing since I clung to the dream. Rejoice with you emerge to someone's ardent,  Being so close you went away so far and,  Bewitched someone's love,  Though you might set a new universe,  Behold, whenever this melanchlic night  will take a rebound,  And you will summon me up in your mind,  And would kindle a candle of loving... ©Affaq Naibe  .

https://m.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1738607376471193&id=100009658426026&set=a.248300398835239&source=48 Hylana  

Cherry villa  ---------------- While morning sun covered up the chery garden,  The sight swell buzzing, with echo sounds of purple martin,  In early spring it's here fairly common, I laid a cloth in cherry tree, to read John Donnes "Death be not proud"  While green leaves start to lull twigs of red cherry,  And each cherry pair look like ringlet of lady regent...... The purple hue shaped up nearby scenes down,  Each baby flower;embroidery worn, smiled profound--- From the side of glory hill, the flying birds did shrill, And then happy gaotha; hosted a music concert,  A harmony of love drill, in the cherry villa. Amabilia ! the scene become so amusing,  As like a newly wedded lass seated on swinger;  While the shrine bell rang, the starling set forth to sing. And seagull too; cut short his beach sleep, And garden dove sitting brooding on windy walls of cherry Villa. Flung her wing in air to enjoy the cherry festival, Anyway, each f...

The clock stricks, the clock calls, The past is buried and the future calls--- Lilacs came up with primary colours,  Black eyed susan, all the mist has gone--- A throng of abeilles hung upon these,  fairly they carry out their duties--- The clock stricks, the clock calls, Glare spread into fields after the squalls--- Band of birds swing above in rough winds, And rustic filles're harvesting red fresas--- Chanting the chorus of new age of wills. The clock stricks, the clock calls---- No field is safer: the crow calls. to crow, Walk carefully through the hills by plains---- We see the flames into our small grove. The clock stricks, the clock calls--- No one gives thanks to your free gifts, O God of sparks. We are not sincere in our deeds,  Our means, our meals, our dreams,  With peace, submission and love,  all could become ours, The clock stricks, the clock calls--- ©Affaq Naibe