Naveed Akram Poems

I thought, and I thought the moves ahead,
Spoiling surprises for my mind in turmoil,
Then my face winced like the cool energy
Of a winter day in union with the role of the soul.
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The design of a day is against the spring,
Sign your mine with a bullet that met it;
The weapons of a day that summer has won
Is a conclusion of the focussed parts.
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What is the truth in love
When the mountain air is complete?
My interest is my intellect, sudden
And abrupt like follies and findings.
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I do some wonder in that I sign a paper
And erase a letter to instrumentally design
A folded envelope that presents itself too early.
I go to the lovers of the rhapsodes,
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The reputation of the troubles is huge,
So then the fifth age gains a partner
Who hugely hugs me with passes of heat.
The caresses of a day are unique
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From the beginning of the book
A stray dog barked, walls hid it in splendour.
One evening, it worked its way to hard
Ways, feeling like gods of the dogs and joys.
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I ride wrongly and accuse the believer,
He has sacked me and called me godly,
For my twitches are sacred and the art
Of the soul is finished in the forms of death.
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To see the wildness in a man is sacred,
Offering him news confounds the truth,
But an anatomical picture of a destiny is unique
So that we are physicians of our destinies.
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Your bitter, twisted heads are like foes,
Rolling in dust with the wind of joy,
Instigating a trouble for the foes at hardness,
Beset with gloom are the foes.
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The rock’s crafty protuberances spoiled the wars
When breathing surrounded the circumstances,
A march to a son was towards the home of choice;
But sons were sons, daughters were daughters,
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