Naveed Akram Poems

I have a scrutiny of meticulous books,
I wage war on the sensibilities and hooks,
By the jeopardy of the soul, and benevolence
Too cold, so kind are they all, so kind.
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You linger and fall, songs are spun,
Then the singing is paramount in time.
Over the hill, is a heron that tumbles,
Over its back the world is of feathers.
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The mountain is washed by the clouds,
The mounted beast is ridden at last;
But adventure is the solution to the sky
And the dangers lurking in the chambers.
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I have a joy with reasoning,
As reasoning is my toy;
Fun objects poise and stammer,
Defeating the edges of the knife.
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On Thor I rest my bones,
On his throat is an emblem,
On my tongue there is burden,
And my malice is strong and forced.
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He sent his letter through the box,
It grew larger as it progressed,
Fulfilling the only pleasure of paper,
For paper warns paper, paper is pious.
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The road is longer than a small continent,
It purges and crashes with dutiful sounds,
Enigmas go unnoticed with sudden design,
Endeavours are uprooted by their necks.
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They have hit my hard head,
Ideals of the skin are not permanent;
They frighten the being of bothers,
Ideally a sanction must arrive by asking.
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The dishonesty is a disloyalty, one is liar,
One is famous, and one-eyed,
But when do papers amount to clarity?
Where is the proof of a forbidden prince?
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The night is longer than a day,
But these days are full of light,
The mouth is used to eat that
Delicious substance of desire.
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