I The Petals

I named my humbleness long ago
On earth scratching names of love
Like a medal on your chest to know
What beauty shall it look on my door
I puffed the petals on the cold breeze
Where it blows through The Groove

II Dried Flowers

Dried flowers lie on the papers
With dust in books for the day
To the soil like seeds of love
My songs were muted that night
I felt having been sculpted in stone

III Mystique

I feared the day when deafness
Numb as I am I cannot create
A masterpiece from memory alone
Like great Beethoven in his age
Those books told me something
About myself when the mystique
Feminine in love all encompassing

IV The Deadliest Weapon

They thought I carry the deadliest weapon
When my secrecy was broken it was
Scent of spices from the pouch so deep
Waiting to be put on the evening when
Festival in spring shall bring autumn
Close to hearts like green of grapes
8/7/2009

From: The Groove

Sadiqullah Khan

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/like-green-of-grapes/