Portly Man

Even when I portray a portly man
My instincts have begotten further ways;
His portion is over time a calamity,
In portraits, into porridges, and soups.
He is positive with the popery,
But never does he sermonize us with delight.
Instead the resources munch him,
Respire then and squint fatherhood.
Munching is a sin, but negligent,
A sin too small, a transgression of slight nature.
This portly man surprises with confusion,
The liquids of time abase him now.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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