I Fall In My Purse Poem by Naveed Akram

I fall in, already in something of a wise call,
Seeds of the mind develop like decades,
Then flowering disputes empty the call,
I watch and listen to the waking of the doors.
I have scent enough to witness the call,
I see starlight with reasons, coppers in my purse.

Then rolling the dice, we watch the astral gate,
It feeds and hears us with the unique talk,
Unique words are exchanged, with bitter glory.
One is fainting if he sees a bloating man,
In the view of the seas and oceans.

To one of those who have been busted,
I did not have much gouging of eyes,
Nor the tepid water, nor the tense muscle.