Naveed Akram Poems

One result will be a word of relationships and customs,
Another can mean a phrase of strong punishment;
What is the judgement of blessed nature and act?
Where do you listen to these monumental figures?
...

At this beast is a brother who beckons,
This boisterous beast is a frank human being,
These masculine arts are the old ways of this beast,
Their science is a plane of the whole creation.
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The world is a bush, and I am a small bush,
In forward marching, I contain the ideal stance,
Protecting my poetry as it unravels into signs,
Knots are untied, their nature undone and exalted.
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I must stay with adult fire interplaying with the soul,
I must desiccate my fingers in this burning flame;
But why does the hotness of this world be so dim?
The punishment in the afterlife may even be no charm.
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Humane thrusts are foregrounds for better men,
The enticed worlds are sounds for the better men.

Why do you differ from ruptured souls who force?
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I may utter the vain discourses as I write,
But wandering in this plumage is deceit;
For I do not write what is certain, but what
Is right and that commands a sense of betrayal.
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I have a contrast to state, that you are dense,
And I am thin, that you scorn me whilst I am rich.
To be dainty is to be scornful of my reminder,
The strain is aloof you say and state, but it is scare
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My boy is burnt from turning up from the hot sands,
Thick-leaved plants surround him in the shadows;
For he is oldest, proudest of them all as gifts and wars,
Their pistol shots can be summed from afar and away.
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I am stunned by the magic of this vulgar item,
It is lopsided, sentimental for me, rousing
Artistic quality, and being primitive, like a desolate
House that needs ownership, fulfilling wishes.
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Open the door to faithful men and women,
Their doors are a fountain for the young and old;
Open your house of training, in the life-arts,
Fastening the soul onto the divine board
...