Musings of A Troubadour

ACROSTIC
 
 An angel upholds an ample umbrella
 'Neath which many multitudes of the songsters thrive
 Novice in the arts and the erudite both
 Enter that haven of flourishing glory
 Together they pour their various hearts out
 Tuning the lyres to melodic symphonies
 Engaging in contests win recognition
 
 Nature smiles at the nobility of deed
 Altruistic heart of happy angel shines
 Singing praise of the absolute creator
 Such the luminous star of soulful glitter
 Essence of humanity haloes her soul
 Refinement delights to adorn her person
 
 © SAFDAR BHATTI
 

 A SONNET TO SETTING SUN
 
 When Helios dwindles from here away
 On the selfsame hour it shines on Britain
 Within me starts raging sombre foray
 Of nostalgic throes, of heavier pain
 
 My longing heart you waft away with thee
 My eyes, the poorest exiles, gaze for long
 Now bright now dim with dreaming ecstasy
 And weltering hopes within bosom throng
 
 Darker shades of eventide sadly fall
 Pelting heavily on the sullen breast
 And cardiac effusions crying call
 "O when their hankered sightings eyes be blest?"
 
 Abruptly heaves the bosom colder sighs
 And briny dew glistens in yearning eyes.
 © SAFDAR BHATTI
 

 EVENTIDE MUSING
 
 There dwelt a man of much learning
 From the poets of longer yore,
 In a small village turning into town
 
 He was born to a farmer
 Rough and crude
 Despite whose father's trying
 He couldn't attain to high school
 
 And the man of much learning
 The farmer's eldest son,
 Took a very fond fancy
 Of being himself the same one or a day
 As were his friends of the buried past
 
 He had a flitting soul once
 In the days he hitherto had worked,
 He dreamt and dreamt a lot
 Both day and night, a pervert Joseph,
 
 Love in all its purity was all
 He longed for whole of his life
 But attain to it he could never
 Except in the mildewed leaves
 Had been quilled centuries ago
 
 Only there he found what truth was
 Only there he found the most truthful one
 It proved relieving in the mercenary hustle
 Hissing around on every side
 
 He couldn't help sailing along the stream
 Through many a windy by paths
 In the deserted woods, all moss and hay,
 
 He saw there, Saturn, sullen and sad
 Expelled by his own blood, he saw
 The aspiring youth driving sun's cart
 All along the bluer camouflaging
 
 And bold Ixion put to hold a wheeling rock
 And the stalwart Mars trapped in a net
 And the shameless hussy smiling by
 
 There saw he, Hesione picked by boaters
 And the Ilion burnt in a night
 Helen sailing with the jilted king again
 And many myriad, other of the kind
 
 He had quite surfeited until then
 When a new dawn appeared suddenly
 Kindling in his teemed head
 A fortunate ray of glistening sparkle
 Showing him on to a garden
 
 The garden of delight you may it call
 For there nothing lack of aught and ever
 The rushy streams of milk, of honey
 And very translucent rills of eternity
 
 The joyous lawns of verdure neatly trimmed
 Tall trees on all sides fresh and green
 Hymning night and day the glorious praise
 Attract the hearts of a royal descent
 
 A youthful host of meekly port
 Bright in faces, in the eyes bashful
 And none so royal in the worlds you find
 Like the youths, the dearest divine guests
 Reclining on the couches embroidered
 With burnished gold and silver
 
 And the young stewards in richest attires
 Tending them round and round
 With whatever food they desire
 Flesh of fowls of every genre
 And whatsoever elixir they like to drink
 It's present forthwith in a wink
 And it's not a mere fanciful brooding
 The truth is what I'm striving to report
 
 And the weather is always spring there
 Flowers of sundry kinds glowing in bliss
 Breathing such the richest odors
 No one ever smelled all the air around
 
 There is no revel not the least
 But peace and pious delight
 Cradling the life everywhere.
 © SAFDAR BHATTI
 

 SAFDAR BHATTI is a published poet who has been writing whole poetry since 1994.
 'PHILOGYNY' is the title of his book published from the UK. His verses have been
 commended by the various dignitaries including Queen Elizabeth, University of
 Manchester, Chief of the Air Staff, Pakistan Air Force, National University of Modern
 Languages Pakistan and many more individuals. He is also a member of The Poetry
 Society London. He has an M. A. in English Literature. A widely read scholar in almost
 all the major English poets from Langland and Chaucer to Thomas Hardy along with
 Poets and tragedians of Ancient Greek and Rome. He lives in a small village called
 Marri, in district Sargodha of Pakistan. Besides poetry, he is also working on short
 stories and verse plays. He intends to publish his poetry in Urdu within a short time.