Dear Lord, let me not, bless with wisdom,
Blessed ones are always weary in tears.
And those who ‘re blessed with the help,
Live their life without any fears.

Dear Lord, help me live within limits,
To be content with what I own.
Wish of having, much, lot and more,
Makes us mad, we always moan.

Make me strong to be much bold,
To be very kind to those who hurt.
If evil entice me to Wrangle and Revenge.
Halt me, help me to avoid and avert.

Help me to help, to those who suffer,
Make me able, to wipe away their Woes.
Enlighten my heart, to be with the truth,
to seek the strength, and forgive my foes.

Chivalry is not to fight in the field,
To **** the crowd and not take shield.

Nor it is to defy the death,
And try to fight till the last breadth.

Fray the foe and stay with strength,
Keeping in the chaos line and length.

It is to subdue, the soul in the plight,
And always be by the side of the right.

We are ashamed, sir dear
We are ashamed.

Neither the earth glistened
In the ray of good time,
Nor we are still
In the way of good time.

Pen is serving, not right
But the mighty lord,
Kneeling bowing bending,
Instead of superseding sword.

Nations still quarrel
To prove them stronger.
Men are being slaughtered
For the sake o f honour.

Men are being burned,
Terror rules the world,
Birth, not the worth
Still fools the world.

War, the monster of iniquity
Has worn different masks.
Somewhere proving pride
Somewhere deadly tasks.

We couldn't bring the good time
The good time once you dreamt.
‘'Let us aid what we can''
We have forgotten what you meant.

You will see no more
Weapons in the world,
If my dream comes true
And the war is hurled.

Weapons ****
And weapons burn.
Weapons are terrible,
They always turn

Man into corpse.
Heaven into hell.
I have seen children
What should I tell?

In the lap of mothers,
With bleeding eyes.
Death over every one
Like a vulture flies.

Play your part,
Come and Awake!
Don't waste time.
Move and make

A weapon free world.
Without any plight
What the world would be
Without any fight.

Where peace prevails
Like a paradise
Come! come! Come!
Reach and rise.

May heaven help me and hail me the height,
So shall my pen be able to write,
In the honour of those whose name when we take,
It makes the mind glow and heavy hearts light.

In the honour of mothers, whom himself Lord praise,
The poor poet tries, but finds not phrase,
They never live their life, they never hesitate,
On the cost of their comforts, they their children raise.

Have they not dreams and have they not need,
Yes indeed, but they always sacrifice,
Working and waking, toiling and training,
For making the life of children nice.

Neither summer nor winter they take into account,
Their charms and choices are linked with the child.
How weary and worn out, tired and troubled,
But always for the child, mellow and mild.

We were feeble and faint, delicate dependent,
Frail in the form, crept and crippled,
Who was there, with us and always took care,
Our soul slumbered, When her love rippled.

He who believes in fate and fall,
Never loses hope at all,
Knows in life there comes time,
When all goes wrong, nothing fine
Remains around, we feel alone,
Our heart hurts and makes us moan,
But our hope pushes us ahead,
Makes us toil, though time bad,
We fall and rise and lump and move,
Finally we find us out of groove.

Measure not the sincerity of friends,
Time will show you worth of all,
Those with you in cheers and delight,
Probably won't, answer to your call,
When you're in trouble or lagging behind,
Most of them'll fly and flee.
Lose not hope and make no mourn,
Let them go and gain their glee.
This is how heaven helps us all,
Showing the faces of foes in friends,
Driving the devious away at all,
Teaching us, training us, the life's trends.