Naveed Akram Poems

The headdress of a person is shown,
Maniac is he, the helmet worn shall concern;
A hated element of his mind is confirmed,
Jolliness is not his spirit, nor his face.
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Xylophones keep the music simple,
Whereas sound produced actual
Music. Music is like dance,
And dancing is so like the devils;
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Fantasy hastens its wings over long hours of play,
Whenever you roll dice probably spells disaster.
Fantasy occupies the soul from a new position;
A solid hope has spun a discord, a funny spell,
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Seeing again must be prize worthy,
It commands a sanctuary, worthy;
This felt like eye and nose,
Then those eyes turned like eyes
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Fancy a jelly-like idealist, a manly felonious criminal
Of ill-repute; He does all that pain for your summary
And these poets carry pots of words on their heads,
Telling or reporting, murmuring or completing,
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My mind was pure when I was nothing,
The house of my soul carried everything;
And so selflessness extracted a meaning,
And so doubt never entered the spirit;
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My favourite height gains splendour;
Onto the tower we climb, for our splendour.
This is the love of my time,
Your guardian felt stubborn on this day;
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Hymns are like the hands of a priest,
The life carried songs for the dance.
Don’t look at beauty delivered
For the guise of its form is eternal
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So go ahead, and change the laughs,
There are only probabilities;
It is much happier to laugh and be merry,
This relative of mine wants a peace.
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