Constant Tears Poem by Naveed Akram

On the first occasion she took another method,
Immovable and invincible beyond compare,
Like the constant rudder and the continuous bark
Of a pronged tree, which of these constitute the grasp
Of a beggar to his goal, the fatal whisperings of them all?

I am not tired by the constant rubbing,
The vivid impressions, day by day;
Listening to hearing, seeing the trees
For their silver trunks and stale odours
Of such herbaceous tracts.

My demand was bursting into tears
Doing the wrong hours as we spoke.
The bubbling growth instilled fear
In their bleeding hearts,
Worse were the arms around my neck.