Treasure Island

Naveed Akram

(15 December 1973 / London, England)

Caught In The Wind


Caught in the wind a relic stays,
Underneath the bush of real values,
One of the leaves sheds its life
To be a ghost for the real man.
Causes of intelligence are few,
Relics matter and mutter their praise
For the owner of roads and rides,
His life is hers and her life is his,
A religion resides in reality
Forming the guardian to be.

My winds are caught in the rain,
It swings to the marching sound,
Living among the beautiful people
As water munches away and
Resistance is so abject an act
That writing is too punctual a manner
For the ones who adore
And the ones to surprise.

Resting happens so fast,
My winds are lately in the shell
Of doubt, filling it with love and hearts
Beating like the windy waters
Of the sea, a sea so beauteous with
Some frown.

Submitted: Wednesday, January 15, 2014
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