Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
I seized a coloured handkerchief,
And wept on it for too many rides
Of joy in this life we call the times.
The roads are robberies, and the paths
Are pains, so do not spy on jails
That jealously spend their wealth
Of time of their inmates included.
I sailed for times too different,
My eyes swore to the pen that erased
Itself, and my face wore the stale throat
So as to whine and search, dive and perch
With ever-glistening sight,
The bay of ships and handkerchiefs
Was closed for this fight,
The bay was empty to the tongs of fear,
The tongues fought,
The mouths were more than madness,
These ears sorely missed eerie ease.
The main deluge offered a prize,
And we must proudly devise the blessings,
The tumult has expired with my pen that eases
The head of hearts.
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