Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
A paper is an apple to bite,
Inheriting the container that is airtight;
An athlete belongs to the alight,
His paper is his book with his appetite.
To be running must be animosity,
Labelling the places creates curiosity,
And the paper runs like monstrosity
In the head, in the head running with velocity.
The athlete keeps a status of anger,
One of his fingers delights longer,
To keep the pages of his hunger,
Living a lie is mostly full of the younger.
Comments about this poem (The Running by Naveed Akram )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings