Menu
Monday, March 16, 2009

Stones Of Death

I gather the stones of death,
My options are few and a breath;
This I design with my hands
And the feet may be from badlands.

The stones I picked deceived me,
Their large amount was ivory;
I wanted a little pebble or parable
To consist of the wisdom not horrible.

The horror I concerned myself with
Was loved by demons and the gunsmith;
Shooting carried disorder like stones,
Pebbles called bullets fired at bones.
Naveed Akram
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

1/23/2021 5:28:57 AM # 1.0.0.425