Smooth Cream Poem by Naveed Akram

The smooth nice ice cream is tall,
The rice of the skinny men is small;
But noisy heads poorly meet their dames,
Like privileged men of such higher names.

This mean queen opposes mastery,
Funny to the bone if always misery.
I sign the document of your grace,
Fetching words and clauses of this race.

My sleep is slept, my old pose is near,
This old pose is poetry of the tear;
My stroll is short, my thin little fingers
Control me when the thought lingers.