Naveed Akram Poems

You forgive and moan if that could be,
It cannot moan that far, look;
And see now, why it glints in the eye
When I saw you speak and forgive.
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This section deals with politics,
And this one economics.
I am a book of longevity,
Inexact and imprecise,
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Only heaven, only mist, my sacred fortune
Is ceasing to be, opening now into good fellowship.
I have meanings, too many friends,
I bless each when they arrive;
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I find an appellation so ruinous
That ruin dictates my ruin.
My appetite for words or names
Is confident and appealing
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I break this brack, a bread of fruit,
A bread too good for the eating.
My wives still make me some sawn ring,
A bagel, or a bangle, or sweet pie so much.
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The conqueror was a script,
I read him like a script;
He invaded my life as if to die,
And later he awarded me with death.
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I compelled my hand-blotch to be a care
On this soul of mine. So far, my cares
Diminished, as bending was difficult for me
And old tables remained like my skin.
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