Friday, June 16, 2017

JH Sayyar's Sonnets

153
You will be stolen one day I fear,
Your eyes dacoit beauty is a thief,
Of pious hearts smiles tell me dear,
A long list of your doings here I brief.
 I call you the parents cut purse,
Steals their meat I know not how,
You perform this I that night curse,
Now forget you my childhood vow.
Like a whore promise my life is short,
I am candlelight burning on a shrine,
Melt by and by like a mourning heart
Or in grave the earthworms may dine.

My fingers may die but the words I write,
Never die but your cheap love might bite.