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Saturday, 30 June 2018

Ghazal of the Ottoman typewriter



 So many black shrouds of carbon interleave our each white faced foolscap
& I, of Thy Night of Strangers, a but blind copy struck
Saved from Ishq's dangers, tho' Sukhan still c.c's me crap,
 By Thy living in Kufic- Know Beauty giving a fuck.


Envoi- 
Caliph! Herzl's thoughful gift has no power, sedition's hand to disguise
Why teach Zion thrift, so our perdition more prodigally arise?



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