A Burn Poem by Naveed Akram

A Burn



My spender rinses me as I have spent,
The real ferocity makes me cement;
The deed has done my face, has seen me last,
I cast a spell, and be somewhat aghast.

My buying and this lying can concern,
But this time that design does spend a burn;
The cavern dozes and deserves music,
Unmet, unworked, like sport and metallic.

Saturday, April 16, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: music
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Naveed Akram

Naveed Akram

London, England
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