Naveed Akram Poems

Over hatred a hurt is spoken,
Those demons lurk anointed,
With cherished horns of antelopes,
Washing iron with irate arts.
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The soldier of success is a summer,
Of decibels flying into spring of summers,
Kisses are to the previous sins,
Caresses begged are caresses captured.
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I flew down to the world of trouble,
A myth waved me when I observed the rights.
Grave innards react with the reduced mountain,
The fire for the rock ignited to loosen the crags.
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The friend is the dwarf, nowhere is the man with stripes,
For his superior officer died with his rights and rules,
Acts came to use the official guise, with elves to prepare
The food.
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Awful burns have divided us in the crashes of the bright,
A coma has been attached to our words of much lift.
The uniform has appeared to be abhorrent, to the senses,
It is completely comfortable and unique, forever this way.
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That will best be read by the best is certain,
That which hurt me will be the constant blessing,
One of us shall dry the one’s choice today,
Let only me now.
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I have been approached by a volunteer who criticises,
Do you understand the wolf’s side of this righteousness?
The advanced yoga of this palace called Beauty is resolute,
For the encroachment is an act too unfavourable.
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The date of libraries in heaven is fixed,
The treasures within shall be asked,
Words filter, worlds complain and adjust
To the divine splendours.
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To loom always dazzles the mind,
Electric thoughts reside in the heavens,
With each passing moment the currents
Run deeper than the rivers of strangeness.
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The beach and butterfly flew along the sky,
Feeding loneliness into the light that took
A slight edge with the act of existence,
Little do people know the height of nature and its contents.
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