Ovation
Ovations are outworn on me, outwardly, out rightly,
Entire stretches of swordplay dictate my rage;
This lacrosse is kosher, I mean this faith is mine,
Then the loss of distinguished knotty points is benign.
Lactation of others survives knowledge, knuckled by some,
Kicked by some, known by some, and stained forcibly.
Festive points are payments, on the ridge of heavens,
For the applause is far too strange and deplorable.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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