Paint Looms Poem by Naveed Akram

Paint looms on me with balance,
It always shivers as writing sensibly implodes.
My actions resolve, my thoughts blow the wind
As an image glides, a picture dies, and folly
Is denied once again.

Paint will blow on the wind to add colours of custom,
Purple skies, happy compositions and stories.
Painters reside here, like innocent children,
Whose fighting freezes, easy are the fighters;
Their lulling is a decision from the head and heart.

One wilderness is like a skyscraper of the highest city,
Until the days and nights dissolve in the solvent made
By painters, managing the alert and the alarm.
Paints of different hues mix, pulps are grown from the
Pen that drives the pages of whistling and sounds.