Partridge Poem by Naveed Akram

To assemble a law fitted movements of liars,
Marriage of the percentage that roared,
With the ostrich at the back,
And a house to knock and know;
My pilgrimage is pain and promise,
For I have a pillow for my beds and places,
You are musical and lettered due to God.

My passage is ending this day for some who sense
A real parentage, a flowing damnation is upon us.
There is massage in messages, loose and rigid as well
In the sizes of all manner of objects.

This luggage I forward to the state,
My stations are morose and strict,
My worlds in this world are numbered.

I am like a partridge or warrior,
But both I am not.