He Drew The Portrait Poem by Naveed Akram

He drew portraits becoming the second,
Five years were like the servants of art.
In his apartment a lying man was subdued
And the art was subdued by the losers.
Lighting the way of the wax, a candle
Summed up the scene that entranced men.
Women must remix the air with paints,
Women damage the sense of applause.
But he drew portraits of the incidents,
Men and women were perfectly welcome in the dust
Of the days we drank the wine of inner strength.

He damaged the picture according to the races
Dwelt in, the race of an artist was called beauty
For the battering of the paint was absolute,
Like little pieces of wet health, wet wheels
Too many in number, the artists were better
Than the other artists now that you began a light.