A Poet Is Discerning Poem by Naveed Akram

A poet is discerning, he is of sport, he grasps finality,
A poet is distinguished in the extreme, by alacrity.

I have a bone, my poetry has a singular trait, and I laugh
And laugh at obstacles in the stretches of the imagination.

I must reward the authors and the workers of the heaven,
I describe a panopticon, to house my zoo of animals and words.

My bones are my skeleton, housing the bridges and ligaments,
The tendons and sockets, what are my well-thought words?

The poet makes tea for the warm-hearted, his soldier is a pen,
Working rigorously to train the majority into thinking a crying wonder.

My own world submerges and reemerges, to anoint the wealthy one,
His aim is distinction, and red dragons mixed with blue dragons.

My worthy friendship spells these dangerous words of a long time,
In this prison of play, a world of poems is a mark of long life and serenity.