A God Poem by Naveed Akram
A God
A god was about, fully moving,
Leaning on a stick for the movement one day.
Tonight He worked, higher than anyone,
With a mind to reset, to accumulate acumen.
May the gods all be damned for their work,
The real manner of our young lings is grave,
Their very graves spat on, fought on by the gods.
The movement is splendid, futures are blessed,
Forcing our real manners forever and ever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/9/2024 1:04:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
lovely thoughts to share forth with us...Thanks! ! ! 10