Naveed Akram Poems
|5602.||Taste Of Food||11/27/2009|
|5603.||“ghosts Are For The Telling”||6/14/2008|
|5605.||For Every Storm||6/29/2008|
Comments about 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.
A Pencil Hits The Floor
A pencil hit the floor with suddenness as flicking occurred,
I have found a nation of ruin in the thumb of brilliance;
This paper we have inspires me further, pushing me far,
Seeking the nightmare is like seeing the words unfold.
My pencil obeys me, obedient is my pencil of lead and wood;
But where is the engineer who aspired to it, who claimed?
The paper is on the wall, feeling good internally, like an item
Of lead for Rutherford or his colleague, radiation exists
Farther than the