Elusive Nymph by Shamsud Ahmed - HTML preview

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PORTRAIT

A Portrait first made,

Shed tears for breath,

Maker, your smile,

Lost somehow now betrayed.

A portrait just dressed,

Coloured hard and fresh,

Maker you know the soul,

And the layout behind that;

Haggard and blown,

In that weary robe,

A steed, never she rode,

What’s inside the abode?

Cry out – your tears,

Mixed with colours, a maze,

A salty vision,

I know the taste,

The horse now stabled,

And the picture framed,

Somehow clipped to the doors,

Lay behind three or four;

Would you bargain me the right?

To kiss her brows,

And more on her toes,

And more on her horse;

Shamsud Ahmed 39

Would you let me to the door?

Slammed behind,

With fertile blood,

And blended folks;

Oh! I am lost

Again at the sight,

Few more nights,

Day makes only lights.

Oh! I am for the light,

If not that,

A portrait in my flight,

Peaceful and glowing bright;

What you longed for,

Now stripped to pieces,

Lifeless – beats no more,

Plugged in the whirlpool of saddle;

Would you swallow?

Passersby once more,

The broken portrait,

Retailed to your fortune;

Spoiled brat, you smile,

Through the frame,

But who is your bearer?

A darkness flowed and no names,

The soothsayer now cries,

And plays with my time;

The glory of a sigh portrait,

Brushed throughout and divine.

Elusive Nymph by Shamsud Ahmed - HTML preview

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