Beauty Is Cherished

Beauty is the commencement of pleasure of the soul,
Beautiful men and women pertain to the outright majesty.
Everything is a star, and something else sparkles with lusts,
Every man in this world is on the worst world, and fortune.

The riches flow in, the resources are expended victoriously,
For nobody complains of the water cycle, passions of our time.
Beautiful raindrops are the immensity of this whole spell and weather,
Magical dreams are falling on the heart due to the sustenance.

My beautiful soldiers fall into the clouds, fixing their toes and fingers,
Feeding the bottle-worshippers, with alcohol of the highest qualms.
Froth has happened like fire-worship, rifles are strung to the tree,
As bullets are explicit and implicit, reading is the behaviour of a man.

Beauteous men and women keep castles cherished as cream,
Anointed men spill the milk of their highness, castles are visible
From eyes of the great great work, a full heart is heard and healed,
A whole organisation is cosy and comforted, like the religions.

by Naveed Akram

Comments (4)

Scarlett, the title reminded me of an old song I used to like by the same name. This beautiful poem made it ring in my ear again. Although loved ones are gone so long as their memory lives within us they are not truly gone. They only pass when there is no memory of them. A very poignant piece here. Top marks and thanks for sharing it my friend. David
Lovely poem Scarlett. I feel the same sometimes, as both my parents have gone and of course, also, Anthony. I do have my Sister still and of course the children and grandchildren, but somehow the links with the old days have gone now. Sad but one can only go forward now and treasure the memories. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
that is a brillant wise piece Scarlett......the first read makes you think how sad your are for the lose of both parents......but you end it with a hopeful vision: O)
I like this a lot, Scarlett, for its pure sentiment. I would lose the last 'Nobody's child' - I think it's redundant, IMO. Maybe rework that last verse so it's more powerful and clearly stated. Also...check your dictionary regarding 'wither'. Otherwise, your poem made me miss my dad...and made me feel lucky that I still have Mama around to bug me. Thanks for sharing.