Eagle’s Song Poem by Naveed Akram

On this television called life I am
The King of Swing, gracious at flying
To the other end of the universe.
Let the song be sung across acts
Living in the eagle’s neck,
Lists of eagles are named by their fathers.

The parent of an eagle fixes its
Moving fragments again,
The young are in flight.
Laying eggs becomes mindful one.
A fleeing battery of swinging torture
Accompanies the swing
Of the wing that is tattered.

Rocks are like enrichment,
The rocks batter us down with their
Composition, enlightening the road
With fervour.

I see an eagle in an angle,
Muttering and sparking the threads
That try their meandering on us.
Trees blend, plants are wending their
Way to the other side of the world.
I see an eagle at the other end,
Trees are spoons of such toughness
That they break afterwards.