Beards With Guilt Poem by Naveed Akram

Beating beards are beaming with guilt,
The furnace of the heart is a guilty wart,
One finds in it a spot of distaste as it
Dissolves and reenters the head and heart.
Whining with feasts fitted for the fight,
Grills of the hot wine are consumed,
Drained and drank with such force.
Blow on the hearts of the feeders,
With roads enforced on us.

The beard is a force to fight with the heart,
Friendship gives noises, foes tell tales,
Simultaneously as the message wears
A meaning of the heart, a hot wine is drained
But drinking is the worst lie of horses’ feet.