Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
It was raining and the wooden staff conquered
My daily meals for its veracity was stronger than before.
All the greens and golds and clouds of stairs
Came finding me with brilliant items of clothing.
The wooden staff made summer rain,
Washed out the heads from the bodies
And thoraxes that glimmered in the heat of the day.
Summer rains, once began when the soaking housed us,
The wooden staff came to my door.
It dampened the spirits, leaving the High Peak walk
Mapped out by the steep climbers.
This day the wooden staff fought for its glory,
It was a thunderstorm that made my blazer go red,
Blood had arisen and warmed the transformed union,
Offering me the blades to outperform a few people of warmth,
Keeping the wheels at bay with the stare of camels.
It rained hard that day to be delighted in platforms of the snow,
Transforming one shape, deciding one day, and creeping on another day.
The summer rain arrived.
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