A writer without reader

Letters forms words,
Words make sentences,
Sentences become paragraphs,
Paragraphs turn into stories,
Without readers,
stories remains hidden,
and don’t turn into sagas , tales and inspiration

Have you imagined
singers without listeners,
artists without viewers,
dancers without audience?
Same is the case
of writer without reader.

Myths remain secrets,
Truth remain lie,
Dreams remain hidden,
without no one to read

A writer remains complete
not only with pen in hand,
not only with words on paper,
but with readers.

The Dying World

Thin breeze blows

across the only green fields,

towards the urban jungle,

sprinkling the seeds,

of negativity everywhere

Love is killed,

families are destroyed,

once thriving cities crumbled down,

by wars of weak heart,

masked by powerful might

Selfish intentions replaced,

the selfless deeds,

Hatred and violence replaced 

the peace and loving souls

Killings and outbreaks 

are common thing,

Love and togetherness 

are the words of false men 

Innocents targeted,

violated and tortured 

in the name of God 

and words of pretentious ‘wise men’

World is dying,

for love,

for  peace,

for joy

My Husky afterall

His blue eyes
sometimes naughty,
sometimes needy.
Love is what he asks for,
Attention what he needs.

His white and grey fur,
smooth and fluffy,
lovely and amazing.
He does zoomies
at the name of park.

He is stubborn
for walks and treats.
He acts naive,
when I find his sinful deeds.

He sings to tunes
of my favorite songs.
He howls to times
when I say no.

He hates bath,
but likes mud and poop bath.
He loves my overly love,
but hates me patting other poodle.

He is husky after all ,
He is my companion,
till the death pull us apart.