Caged Poem by Naveed Akram

Caged



Inside the game of cages hangs a prize
To uplift your heart and mind.
The prize murders the body with violent help,
This will be no prize but a calamity.
If prizes swoon on the player of sport
He or she weans and swears to object
For they are disasters, accidents of the very kind.
A game encases splendid rumours of winning
Like that found in discoveries and contests-
The sick will never conform to cages,
But a prize is enough reward to be called a calamity.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Naveed Akram

Naveed Akram

London, England
Close
Error Success