Naveed Akram Poems
For Every Storm
For every storm there is a room
And find the palace now,
From deserts are a tomb and gloom,
Where clothes must just allow.
The clothing kisses us on cheek,
When effort made us worse,
The cloth we wear is rather chic,
And worry is a curse.
The storm shall grow at all the speed
That problems make us mad,
You did not follow, or then bleed
As madness is your dad.
One Feels His Friend
One feels the drums beating in the sound of the air,
Ears are popping, pulling the ropes of an eternal tension.
Let go of friendship, for all friends will die before birth,
The one who is Friend is indeed the one most beloved.
He hears you, He sees you and the vastness of His domain
Impairs the human speech, much like danger or death.
The greatest calamity is a foolish mountain-trek, a worthy
Satan, a worldly combatant, the fool of the fools.
Those with degrees of the highest damage r