Naveed Akram Poems

The scene inside the scenes of our masters is wilful,
And actual sin has elated returning trainees,
From these hearts have the boats been.
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Reason saw me fit to fly into controversy,
Flights of passion and wit surrounded my soul.
The enigma stole my feelings away like dreams
Of a makeshift place, ethereal place, joined place.
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When a prince enters a room,
Flowers bloom in full professing,
The engine starts non-foolishly,
As returning to heaven catches light.
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A beneficial attachment becomes the screen
Of vast emptiness and authority;
You have a half of hearts, the minuscule oven
To burn thoughts coming from blood-wounds.
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To shake a cake we wade in the grass
Of lovely cream, a game of evil sweetness;
The stick is held by its statue offering us,
A lion’s head is a premise to behold.
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On this rainbow an arrow has been released
By the flowers that grow on grass, passing their tests
As rain does, within the spring and summer meanings,
Seeds are seen according to bleeding veins of light.
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My arms are a base for my torture,
The chains swept by disease are harnessed
And change comes over me as I reach
Into the bag of crowns and jewels;
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The presents of a sleigh are numerous
Just so that ruinous stars die for being;
One April night a little stag is driven
To its death by the claws of a man strange in himself.
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To be a quest of such effortless tasks
Is to clasp the reins and be a weather
Of toil and suffering as the pains request.
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Areas are slight actions, with solving to do,
Their emissions are like bombs of balls,
Flattened on the quests of our minds.
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