Minutes Of Play - Poem by Naveed Akram
Minutes of play were exact remembrances of honesty,
Forgetting was starting to start the ends of the earth;
My hours of flying were over like the dresses of soil,
The turf we whitened was overtaken by the ground of electricity.
My minute play was small enough to adapt to roses;
Promises, and more promises barged in like roses,
My play was over when we began to over recite,
Like the layman in his flute of life we call to address.
Comments about Minutes Of Play by Naveed Akram
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You