Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
Two candles and an old oil lamp
Shed a dim light on the house of blood.
This manufacture folds and entwines
Towards the horizon and seeing is old.
My respiration folds and causes us to halt,
Dismay and connect.
In these days of the dreary life
We observe the station that life
Has to offer,
Internal worries brought a liking.
Often the light is blamed
As it turned tonight.
The real candlewick enlightens us
Returning to the episode of doubt.
My thick days are thinner still,
With ten and elegant ten nights.
The roasting of skin cancels the pleasure
Of a brief winter.
Comments about this poem (Two Candles by Naveed Akram )
People who read Naveed Akram also read
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley