Naveed Akram Poems

Under the sea is a bedroom for me to exist,
In it I lie and commit eating and to insist.
My waters are pure in the heaven,
Causing widespread damage to notation.
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My swords are for killing,
In my own way of willing;
Mighty grass surrounds our heads,
Like those famous threads
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Foretell himself by words and pictures dreamt,
To call the understanding isn’t fair;
We damage them who frighten that affair
With wounds so dreaded as those with contempt.
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When do cries bleed from diseases?
Where are the destinies and denizens?
My illness carried magic, little ones,
The little one will answer us suddenly.
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My avenue is bleeding and crazy
With my French nation.
This neighbour is like the island on course
For another land.
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Having a brewing cup for coffee is fine,
Facing weather too hot, too much iron.
This strong iron is too late in taste,
Much of the flavours are inside.
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Mountains of words congregate to form an eruption,
Sentences let the sword of destruction have expansion.
Five words are written: luck, patience, wealth, modesty and adventure;
These five contain the pleasures offered by him - they are familiar.
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I free the minds of those who sleep
In a trance for all time, the very weep.
Weeping tears are falling on the horizon
Affecting my train of thought like magic gold.
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They remark on the statements that satisfy,
Perfecting the questions to amplify;
My reasoning is to experience by most,
My hat is worn from stone and to boast.
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