We Negotiate
Electric as the wind in sizzling mode,
The sweat of the train is at best and bliss;
I cleanly arrive supported by statesmen,
The friendly haste is suspense,
These wars are fought from the ground.
Let discussion be swift in speed and scale,
After destination is the result of suspense,
We are clever as the weasel at news and sorts,
Our trains deplore the destinations of conversations.
My wind has forced my arrival,
The chief accuses the abusers,
The debate has turned into a riot
Of single gongs, awful wrongful talk.
Electric is the wind from house of importance,
The house of the offices and officialdom.
We greatly offend on solid words
The retraction and invasion of words.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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