Naveed Akram Poems

The library is a public moment,
In it ruins are tombs and stars of gold;
The gold flashes, a star relaxes the mind
Of ease and compassion, that bends
...

Beating beards are beaming with guilt,
The furnace of the heart is a guilty wart,
One finds in it a spot of distaste as it
Dissolves and reenters the head and heart.
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Succeed and write of monsters,
Wanting them close to your body
That wishes to dispel their rage.
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In my tomb I relax and enjoy
The delights of an evening too long.
It is my veritable and venerable grave,
The land of engraved words,
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Now return to a life of the straight zone,
Return to the powerful region when people
Acted like their ghosts, watching, waiting,
Speaking and feeling with emotion.
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I see the melting crowds in sympathy,
I mean my words resounding in space;
Have I any wonder remaining in my muscles?
Will my breathing ones be my children?
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The declaration has a word of rejection,
But I conceive of the differences and award
A man who chooses, signs and forfeits.
I include a focus, a passion, and bravado,
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The buzz of bees outlives the books,
Our art is your loving mighty message
In print and united speech of poets.
The buzzes of the axe grinding the air
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Poems enter the area of squares,
The squares are computers of the circus,
But buttons melt in odd shapes,
As the family of the now returning
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Life has attained the sport of messages,
Their stay is permanent due to old age;
The range of the way and how we arrange,
That is the target of tragedy and comedy.
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