My Pen Poem by Mandeep Singh 13

I see the world flooded with atrocities and tribulations
Drought of courage and spirits going barren,
The light of hope dimming, getting sucked into a den.
No way I can help suffering women and men,
And I am all but sure, it’s beyond my ken.
I stop, I think and then look for my pen.

Somewhere folks are crying and dying of hunger and starvation.
At some corner, food will be thrown as flavor wasn’t a sensation.
Thank God for every bite, wasting food is a crime,
Remember the message divine,
I am putting across through a rigmarole of mine.
Mightier than sword they say, is this gem,
You sure are a true friend, my dear pen!

The guns, the blood and the nuclear races.
The injustice, inequality and the colorful races.
Why are people obsessed with these trashes?
Thank God I have one haven,
When I find myself weak and craven,
I am yearning for the company of the pen.

Let’s hope for a world of happy and elated,
No war widows and no child neglected.
Sitting overwhelmed with the greatness of a pen,
The useless Mandeep prays for it, amen.