Strong Words from a Pen

People call me a writing instrument, but I call myself a living power. As and when I get utilised by the poets, the novelists, the essayists, and so on and so forth, my heart leaps up in utmost satisfaction, happiness and self-dignity. It feels really gratifying to think that I am the reason of the act of expressing the inevitable truths of human life. The education system in this entire world depends on me a lot. I am associated in giving birth to thousands of brainchildren. That is to say, I pride myself on this notion of creation. Still, how can I overlook the cons or the injustice in this society, in which I am used as well? In spite of all such positive aspects, I must admit, I must say that I don’t want to be, though I have to be used by the Judge in a court. Indeed, I never ever do desire, I never ever do even think in any of my wildest dreams and my nightmares that the Judge will use me in giving capital punishment to the convict. Moreover, such acts happen frequently. I cannot stay sane; I lose my mind thinking of the ill effects derived from me. My only question is—“Is a convict a born criminal or a product of the society, who is sentenced to death?”

You may like to read my other blogs:

https://mirandamemmi.blogspot.com/

https://somaliomnibus.blogspot.com/

https://childrenblogbysomali.blogspot.com/

https://somalimukherjee.blogspot.com/

A Few Words from a Bird

I twitter, I chirp and I sing to welcome every new morning. I add sweetness to the entire atmosphere when it is dawn. I fly in the sky. The sky is sometimes blue, sometimes cloudy, sometimes golden and sometimes gloomy. However, I have to stay happy always to add musical effect to the new day in order to keep the day free from blemish. Of late, people usually gaze at the flying aeroplanes and the helicopters, but most of them usually find almost no time even to look at me. Still, I carry on singing with a sorrowful and gloomy heart sometimes. The poachers are always ready to hunt me, to kill my all and to ruin my family. They laugh a lot; yes, they treat me cruelly in full swing. Still, I need to say that I, too, have my own life, my own family, my own language, my own world and my own future. Many writers used my quills as their pens in the bygone days. It makes my cup of gladness overflow through and through. I try to live optimistically always. Hence, I try to keep in my mind that a great number of poets, after all, have dignified me in their creative pieces. I feel glad indeed to be the reason of their smile, of their happiness and of their state of being spellbound, captivated and motivated.

You may like to read my other blogs:

https://mirandamemmi.blogspot.com/

https://somaliomnibus.blogspot.com/

https://childrenblogbysomali.blogspot.com/

https://somalimukherjee.blogspot.com/