“ghosts Are For The Telling”

Poem By Naveed Akram

Dreadful Drawer,
Careless Carver,
Unskilled Sketcher,
Poor Painter,
Second-rate Sculptor,
Apathetic Artist.


Almost Author,
Sanguine Scribe,
Willing Wordsmith,
Loving Lyricist,
Relentless Writer,
Permanent Poet.

Comments about “ghosts Are For The Telling”

thats so creative and innovative of you.i admire you stance in poetry

4,8 out of 5
3 total ratings

Other poems of AKRAM

A Frozen Flower Thaws

Delicate flower, you have been growing alone for too long.
The soil round your feet was frozen by winter,
Your petals were brittle, their colour near gone.

Home Is Where

These bricks, this stone... this isn't my home.
The fire is here, and faces I know,
I live here, can't sleep here, it's here that I've grown,
But absent is heart: this isn't my home.

Secret Sun

Our eyes are deep in conversation,
Our mouths say not a word.
We each know what the other means,
Though voices lie unheard.

Proudest Scar

With dragging feet,
And heavy heart,
I turn to leave
(The hardest part)

Of These Things I Am Sure

I do not love you by comparison.
It isn't borne of desperation, pride, or pain.
I do not need you for counsel, release.
I do not dream of you to alter you or your words.

Only Journey

No music, no distraction,
Just a step, a step, again replayed
Through lanes I could walk down blinded.
Familiar is this solitary tread,