Naveed Akram

Gold Star - 24,839 Points (15 December 1973 / London, England)

Naveed Akram Poems

1281. Pastureland 10/1/2009
1282. Drinking Glass 10/1/2009
1283. Fowl 10/2/2009
1284. A Comma 10/2/2009
1285. A Return To Clowning 10/2/2009
1286. Ran He? 10/2/2009
1287. Car Vision 10/2/2009
1288. Book In Bed 10/2/2009
1289. Sleepy 10/2/2009
1290. Partying 10/2/2009
1291. A Just State 10/3/2009
1292. Statements About 10/3/2009
1293. Tickets 10/3/2009
1294. The Higher Wisdom 10/3/2009
1295. Thief’s Soul 10/3/2009
1296. Crown 10/3/2009
1297. Worshipper 10/3/2009
1298. Dragon At The Top 10/3/2009
1299. Mirror-Room 10/3/2009
1300. Fraudulent Offence 10/3/2009
1301. Scoring Goals 10/4/2009
1302. Song-Days 10/5/2009
1303. The Battling Of A Nation 9/30/2009
1304. Memories Of Youth 9/30/2009
1305. Seeing My Acting 9/30/2009
1306. She Shrieked Outside 9/30/2009
1307. Wearing A Shirt 9/30/2009
1308. Infinite Nightmares 9/30/2009
1309. Ill Humour 9/30/2009
1310. To Abhor The War 10/1/2009
1311. A Distressing Bedtime 10/1/2009
1312. Perils On Skin 10/1/2009
1313. To Combat 10/1/2009
1314. Wrestling A Foe 10/1/2009
1315. Don’t Disturb 10/1/2009
1316. Peace Is Uncertain 7/24/2009
1317. Toilsome Exercise 10/7/2009
1318. Slave 10/17/2009
1319. Crawl In And Out 10/18/2009
1320. Scourge 10/18/2009

Comments about Naveed Akram

  • Kaitlyn McKenna (1/16/2008 7:00:00 PM)

    Naveed is a free human. Free to believe, Free to fight, Free to want, free to need.

    Way to go Naveed!

    5 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
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

The Sleep Before Death

Die in a state of bliss until you are blessed springing from flesh,
In coffins of hard wood, and entrails of blood and desire.
I learned lately of mortals in innocence and primordials in distaste,
For the taste of death is on all souls and malefactors in the flesh.
I die horribly when everyone gazes significantly on the night,
My fear is outspoken, sufis just laugh and astound their peers,
The death is nearer every day that my counsel is bitter and just.
The course of death is lingeri

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