Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
Old food has spoken by the names offered to them,
This person spoke of religion on the highest ground,
The black is avoided by the grey and white,
Over a sacred land so great and bright,
Of a land too right, too excited by the sun and might.
We keep warmth and lorries of food, old food is polite,
How we understand the contamination.
Greetings must be hard to the ancient ones,
Who live and feed themselves so late.
Comments about this poem (Old Food by Naveed Akram )
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