Gonging

Gongs are dropped by the people in black,
They are intrepid because of their colour.

A rich sound is displayed for the wicked in character,
Those who mingle with alien dress and desire.

Such a stupor is a jewel that it believed in noise
To travel through it and give mounds of coins.

Destroy never the wealth of a kingdom,
By selling it for a meagre price.

The richest men are slaves of the jewellery,
The crafty hands of gold and silver, and forever.

Gongs explode from first months
To the levers honest and true.

To be surprised is too absent from the search of clues,
Ones that decide too many lies untrue.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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