Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
Die as a man and woman did when they did.
To die I just live and then seem to wander from life’s pathway
Into a loving way of day and night to come.
To come my life feels energetic.
I am loyal, my fancy is great on my Beloved,
The one who did all his simplicities,
The one of right and wrong,
He is perfect, and his bravery is extra special.
Before him is no other perfection, maybe no one.
He died last day.
Comments about this poem (He Died by Naveed Akram )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings