My Honourable Ones Poem by Naveed Akram

My father hovered over the food attached,
Strongly uttering words of payment and conquest;
I was ringing the words so sought after by the rich,
Giving food and butter to the poor everyday.
Love is a talker and a taker of the highest strength,
Refuse it and you have refused to listen,
So leave those being dead and live according to rules.
Take your arms and stay away from death,
A lonely person finds freedom next,
And the poor man shall see why he is rich.
For the going and the bustling of a grave guy
Looks at the blackness of a plant as it watches.
My mother watches me every night and
Believes in my life, as it has to exist.