Naveed Akram Poems

A hero is on the stage,
He lends a hand to the war.
One man to find a weapon,
Infidels manage death on him, the hero.
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English reminds me of a language too bold,
Speaking this tongue is like a magical realm.
In this realm we spoke too audaciously and lovingly,
To be free and caring about the old, the very youngest old,
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The river sways in time with us,
When it is too late the water gets violent;
Angrier, the river aborts the laughter
And fixes the wounds of the mouth.
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Courage overtakes the self when in a rush or anxious struggle;
One fears, one dies and the courage is there to save the soul.

Beautiful courage creates a thought for the wayfarer,
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What is his fascination in ams of love?
They move fast and slow with crawling feet,
Realising the religion of the outlying dove,
That cleaves and grieves for flight of an athlete.
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It is quite uncommon for a friend
To commit many acts of obedience;
Fierce acts comprise the solid alleys
Of the thoughts we lust for and desire.
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Gouge the eyes of feminine lust,
Those dreary men do give a thinker
One good stare, and you compel her to order her
Into a riddance, one of those funny songs
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A cry has awakened by all,
Form of creature known to man.
Itself the feather is like itself,
But this weeping will always be definite.
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Run and see the tree, so fair and ancient,
Jokes of summer enter the fray, as a region of light
Called sunlight beams down on timber and talk.
Many coins barrage the town of owls and ospreys,
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