Ashraf Gohar Goreja

Stem Of Blue Rose

In a black winter storm,
Roaring winds.
Devilish, steering
And there
Hundreds of ancient graves.
Some with open parapet,
Some filed with infant snow.

Behind the wild marshes
There was mud,
And rotten grass.
At the edge of frozen river,
There stood,
High above an old
Burial ground,
Surrounded by
Dispelled walls of a
Timeworn church.

Appeared there
In a far distance;
Young and beautiful Elisa,
Lovely looking and seemingly,
Anguish she was in a black frock.
Consoling her broken heart.
But fearless, calm and prudent;
Enchantingly attractive, and
Hardly repelling.
She was.

While she walked,
Along side the
Dead and graves.
She was never afraid.

Beside a marble grave
With a colossal tombstone,
She first stood stoutly,
Determined and bold.
Then humbly
She laid upon it,
A lush, exuberant
A stem of blue flower.
As a symbol of
True but sorrow love.

She then burst into tears,
Concealing and wiping them first,
But cried thereafter.
Making her blue eyes scarlet.
Slowly she sobbed,
Gestured and quivered.
Finally affray, and
Helplessly shivered.

Being then still in the chilling cold.
With her chattering
Teeth she told;
To the heartless,
And stunningly devoted grave.

'Peace be with you! O my darling,
I remain loyal and changed nothing
For thousands of years if ever live
Will praise your love,
Please for give.
Away you are from my sight,
Yet you dwell
At my right.
In this dome of
Light and darkness.
I imagine you fluttering, and
Dancing with bliss.
Tender touch of your heavenly kiss,
I'M my darling, how much I miss.
The lure behind
The days by gone.
Almighty God,
What have You done.
Where do I find now
Wonders of love;
Affectionate and charming,
Loveliest beloved.

The world around me
Is full of sufferings;
Sorrow and distress,
Each day it brings.
Rendered with hoarer,
Rebelliously perceive
Mysterious are
The children of Eve.

O' my love!
How dearly I think of you.
Living in pain,
Grievance and solitude.
You still
Process my heart,
My passion,
and my soul.
What else should I say;
Have nothing
In my control.

Come darling, let us go home!
Here I come
Not just to roam'.

In a mourn and sorrowful tone.
She pledged again
Her solemnly promise,
And her heart,
Became light as
Blue flower.

Gray sky above her,
Then suddenly cleared.
Horrific storm had long been passed.
Winds had surrendered
To the prevailing calm.
Casted dismay,
Over the wilderness, and
The haunted valley of the dead
Was looking as pellucid.
Splashed with subdued quietness,
Stem of blue rose,
Remained as fresh as
It was.

Copyright January 7,1988.
By Ashraf Gohar Goreja
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