Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
Avenue Of Love
The modern and broad avenue of love
Creates a prison for the rectangles of hate.
Invented by the holder of pencils
I hate all of the worse points and
Am no enemy to the insane people of doubt.
A craft has been a wallet or purse,
Fluffy pockets hold perfect stones
That curdle the blood for what it connives.
The heart is a fountain of intellect
Wondering in the breezy country
Called life and existence of the many.
I am in front of a scrawny tree
That bulges and delivers the babies
We see in the news this little time.
My maze is solved by the absolute
Maker of proud warfare and charms.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.