Naveed Akram Poems

Disaster is the sister of horror and noise,
Both calamity and sin concern us, one annoys.

Going to the mountain is disarray and food,
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This is the story of a son who paused
And saw his family drowned in an ocean
He swam also, to shun his people was strong.
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It was impossible to judge distance,
They were professionals, but weird.
But a beard banged on, careers were few,
Never the angers, never the brains of fear.
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The winds retire, the obedience wills,
Commands require access for the hope.
The will of weathers is strong, full,
Like a ghost and its garden, the poltergeist.
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I looked grave, so great was the graveness,
In surprise, behind me were great cracks;
With an old man crying and lying, seeing,
It was his washing day, the day of labour.
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With a crossbow an arrow struck and pierced
The neck so worn by the gentry, for the compensation.
It sent his heart recruitment, delight and then
Resignation, according to knighthood and the kings.
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I wanted to open the drawing-room door,
Looking so ordinary and collected;
Knowing my business, I ran in and collided
Running into clouds forming above the City.
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About the poor, one couldn’t laugh,
Poverty is not profound, it looks ordinary.
A voice is emitted, with business of family,
Why don’t you look at somebody?
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This could only mean living well,
It missed its mark, my hand cut a trail
That was in the ocean of regrets,
This feeling eventually nauseated me.
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To scrape the ground believes in my one soul,
Fatigue and vision saw the real rocks now,
Toys spring entirely, forcing somehow,
My stones exert and exhaust me to coal.
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