Naveed Akram

Gold Star - 20,708 Points (15 December 1973 / London, England)

Naveed Akram Poems

5401. Flowers In The Wind 7/2/2009
5402. Rules Of The Game 7/24/2009
5403. To Seek Food 8/21/2009
5404. Return To The Forest 8/18/2009
5405. Food For The Body 10/15/2009
5406. Peace Of Nature 11/21/2009
5407. You Are In Triumph 11/23/2009
5408. Family House 1/7/2010
5409. Real Hearts 1/4/2010
5410. The Trees Of Life 11/29/2009
5411. Outspoken 2/16/2010
5412. Boats On Water 2/28/2010
5413. Wiser, Or More Than A Fire 5/20/2010
5414. Eat A Bagel 3/18/2010
5415. Flowers At Night 7/5/2010
5416. Compass 8/14/2010
5417. Leadership 8/8/2010
5418. Greedy Men 8/30/2010
5419. Never War 9/9/2010
5420. I See A Man 12/29/2010
5421. Two Paths 11/25/2010
5422. Let The Baby Cry 10/26/2010
5423. Our Thatched House 5/5/2011
5424. Blind Horses 4/21/2011
5425. The Meal 6/15/2011
5426. Dark Journey 4/28/2011
5427. Going To The Other Side 2/8/2011
5428. My Feelings With Animals And Birds 1/25/2011
5429. Theory Of Knowledge 11/9/2010
5430. Coffin’s Argument 12/10/2010
5431. Angry Mountain 10/23/2010
5432. My Name That Runs 11/5/2010
5433. Ambitions 7/23/2010
5434. Surfing Today 3/17/2010
5435. Open The Door 2/2/2010
5436. Bravery And Courage 12/23/2009
5437. A Calamitous Situation 2/22/2010
5438. Hit 11/26/2009
5439. Weathers 12/18/2009
5440. A Brave Child 10/17/2009
Best Poem of Naveed Akram

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.

Read the full of For Every Storm

Poor Men Speak

Poverty is hideous and nevermore, its hand creeps
Into the heart of the body that you possess,
Riches bitterly combats your proclamations,
Rich men starve at the feet of their kindred,
But you are awakened by the songs of the birds,
As poetry says power is better than poverty.

Your throat is hunting the words for a poor man,
His rich life vanished, forced by chances and gambling,

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