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#Poetry ‘Season Of The Morning Star’ by Fiza Pathan

February 15, 2014

Season Of The Morning Star

By Fiza Pathan

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The storm breaks and the rain wets

The atmosphere in bliss.

The peacock is awakened from his slumber

And he dances with the thunder

All feathers spread to show off

A myriad of beautiful colours.

Im Vogelpark bei Detmold

I’m not a poet of the rain

As I need it to hide my tears.

I hide my crying in the rain

And my screams in the lightning’s thunder.

I’m not a poet

And I never knew what love was like.

But ever since I’ve seen you

My sweet intellectual lover

Since then have I penned

Verses of amour so lovingly

As if the parchment were your face.

The rain breathes in the storm

With a gurgle in its throat.

The landscape which was parched

Is now drenched with the richness

Of heavenly holy water.

I walk in the rain to hide

What the world wishes to see.

You are kind dear intellectual lover

So you do not probe into

The misery of my rainy days.

I hear a moan when I walk in the rain

The sound of raindrops pelting my umbrella

As I look towards the grey sky

With pain in my gaze.

Dearest intellectual lover

You also are a poet,

A poet of profound thought.

Pray dance with my aura

In the sunlight which I adore.

Keep away the rain from my balcony

When you come to call me out to play

In the season of the brightest morning star.

Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan

SONY DSC

Image courtesy:

http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/80675

112467002635.jpgBy ameins

http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/619656

Rainy_Day_0909 (8).JPGBy Alvimann

http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/187446

Jb-DSC05964.JPGBy Jusben

From → Poetry

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