Naveed Akram

Gold Star - 25,154 Points (15 December 1973 / London, England)

Naveed Akram Poems

2441. Face 5/10/2011
2442. Skinny Limbs With Fire 5/10/2011
2443. Hundred Marchers 5/10/2011
2444. You Are Right 5/10/2011
2445. Fighter Left 5/10/2011
2446. The Time For Words 5/20/2011
2447. Acute Sayings 5/20/2011
2448. Extreme Values 5/20/2011
2449. Being Nearby 5/20/2011
2450. Pure Gazes 5/20/2011
2451. The Wild Leaves 5/20/2011
2452. Sinking Sun 5/21/2011
2453. Days Glide 5/22/2011
2454. Say To Me 5/22/2011
2455. Ignition 5/22/2011
2456. I Was Alive 4/21/2011
2457. All In This World 4/20/2011
2458. The Heavens And Earth 5/24/2011
2459. Addicted To Thoughts 5/25/2011
2460. Poor In Health 5/26/2011
2461. Intellectuality 5/26/2011
2462. Rolling The Eyes 5/26/2011
2463. Invading The Hills 5/26/2011
2464. Crude Ladder 5/26/2011
2465. Roughly On The Ground 5/26/2011
2466. Among Servants 5/27/2011
2467. Useful Troops 5/28/2011
2468. Modes 5/29/2011
2469. Perhaps My Father 5/29/2011
2470. I Served 5/30/2011
2471. To The Funeral 5/31/2011
2472. Berserk 5/31/2011
2473. Sitting There 5/31/2011
2474. Steel Against Stone 6/1/2011
2475. Sinning Arrows 6/1/2011
2476. Horrible Snap 6/3/2011
2477. Beady 6/3/2011
2478. Quite Happy 6/3/2011
2479. Happy With The World 6/3/2011
2480. Very Praiseworthy 6/3/2011

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

Needles In The Feet

Needles in the feet fear us as we ask the questions,
A little pain is there, hearing me as I speak,
Jostling with rage and pain of the ever sweet.
My neck is ambushed, an array is at my joyous right,
Opening doors to yellow strangeness of stars.

My suffering, my suffering is unique, as big as bleak,
Full of grim speak, I see as I touch the stars at conspiracy;
Points merge, we disperse, after the soldiers of my lesson.

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