Nature's wings

Crow mothers

Cuckoo sings

Human wanders

In nature's wings

Of war and peace

Scarecrow is to birds

As war is to peace

At cross purposes

Scarecrows

Bird-watch

Crops hatch

Starving grows

Of flowers

Lotus appears in ponds

Rose comes with thorns

Same stories from same stalks

Mere flowers

They know little of words

But to exist and perish, for lovers

Here's to the Peoples of the World

Weapons rain,

Intelligence cries.

Wars refrain,

Destruction lies.

The world floods

With obliging bloods.

Drop the guns, the world says

But arms everyone buys and sells.

Power with arms, a primitive style

Thoughts crucified, in history’s file.

233 countries? 6 continents! Such a small number

Yet unable to wake up, from their condemned slumber.

When People would be up with their peaceful power

In an hour they’d ruin, the need to kill and war.

Leaders will follow the Peoples of the World,

Intelligence will smile, glowing and kind

Weapons will rust until they're blurred 

Until they drain and wither from the minds.

Being wrong

Two counties fight.

Two faiths rage war.

Each has a reason sound and strong,

Both think they are in the right

And probably, they most certainly are

To think that war is not wrong.

Is then being right the poisonous germ,

That kills and destroys our rightful peace?

Of what use then is this delinquent sperm,

That grays our right to infinite bliss!

If being right pollutes and corrupts the air,

Being wrong then is correct and fair.

It’d null the weapons, denounce the war

To deliver history’s most insistent scar.

Ways

For an untrained world,

wealth and sex

breed war.

For a trained world,

peace

Frills

Clouds

Have come down to my neck and my knees,

Like frills

I see my frozen brain in them, once heavy and loud

Now floating, relaxed

In them I see my world, covered.

Soon it will rain,

To celebrate my last tear dance,

And then

All monotonous beginnings

Will end

Every bit of my world,

With a new and fresh focus

Will plough and reap

Harvests of love.

Golden theories will wither,

Metal pages will vanish clear,

Lifelessness in the broken mud will disappear

And I will rejoice in the leap.

I will marry my world,

I know the world will kneel

For love, with my misty eyes

Let me enjoy the frills.

World is the only country

World is the only country,

earth, the only nation,

rest can rest, in space

for a change.

Change, a challenge

Zeal to win over self ushers in peace,

Yearning to win over others results in war.

Competition, a weapon insecure, ill at ease,

In the guise of excellence, to bring out expertise

Is a virus that spreads in the veins, corrupts; a disease

that overcasts the mind, too deep, too far.

Competition knows no pollution, poverty,

Misery and chicanery it hears and sees everywhere.

It fills our organs with stress, violence, anxiety

From work to the world, it propels to destroy fraternity.

A delinquent machine that connives camaraderie into monstrosity

Spreading an insipid, insolent, and a deadly scare.

Winning over others is a defocused conviction

Winning over self, a charming, a mature engagement.

This shift in the mind needs to be brought into fruition

A real change, when work gets done in its own volition

Wealth reaps, the hungry germ dinosaurs into extinction,

World bequeaths peace, beneath the same blue firmament.