Think yourself stronger than the rest,
Rests are also good and worse than before.
Relax into the fantasy of your fight,
Games are like books so much in flighty ways.
The car of the first fit man is also in apologies,
Speeches or conversations are in doubt,
Tires seem to be stretched like death to objects,
Tired of them, tired of them, and tired of them.
Thinking globes are revolving gently,
Little chariots are on fire so greatly now.
Those soldiers seem like licking hungry souls,
Great are the compulsions and tensions.
The world is now in ruins due to godly help,
Feel those glad blades now and then,
Space is a matter of urgency
Now that thoughts seem to walk quivering.
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Comments about this poem (Little Chariots by Naveed Akram )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
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