"The Poetry is another way to Life"

Poem Title: The Winter's Moon My wounds were parched and it was late winter, When the belief in me like the clouds went fainter, It wasn’t the freezing cold anymore, It was just hurt wounds and little sore. The clouds were clear, but there was no moon, I waited whole winter that it will come soon. The wounds were not on the skin it were on the soul,  It wanted the moon that hid behind the knoll. Like every alone wolf; I cried so much, For the love “Moon”, I will never ever touch. A poet will never be satisfied with love unless somebody loves the way he love the moon. Every writer or poet have a very poignant bond with the  moon when it comes to write about it. The moon is far away yet affects deeply. It might reminds the beauty that to be embraced just by never touching it. The moon has its own seasonal moods and winter's moon is just more than a subject to write on it. The alone and dull lonely moon covered by the dusty white clouds with a little twilight...

Article Title : The gift "Life" Our lives are mounted on the blips of the time. It goes on, stops nowhere.  We often find our worries big, but they are mere spots on the canvas of our life, they too fades with time. Entire mankind is bounded in the cycle of nature to nurture ourselves. Life has its own way to teach us. The winds, the clouds don’t just simply stay there, it passes. They are not just the clouds and wind they are a lesson to teach us that everything flows, flatters; the winds, the clouds, the waves, the time and our sorrows too, if we don’t cling to it.  We have been gifted with the perception that made us what we are, that shown us what other can’t, that let us understood what other ignored. The only thing we can payback is the gratitude. The perceptivity matters, we are the product of our own perception. Perceptivity determines the sky and creativity measures the sky. We don’t see the life, we feel it. Life is not the sequences of action; it is t...