Noisy Birds

A cluster of noisy birds had their nests in my neighborhood,
Creating sound and complaining to one another, in a lyre fascinating mood,
Living in their nests, ex-halted and accumulated from dusts and disuse,
Feather and feather all around, growing like a feeble fuse,
In a bad conviction, not worthy was their dilapidated condition,
In a pathetic condition, their beautiful edifice was became a dirt creation,
With a coin of compassion in a merciful winter, finally ready for renounce reformation,
And they stringed some ventures of repair and transformation,
Yearning was passionate, full of foggy faith, but failed,
Because, in the mean time, their stupidity prevailed,
In the process of transformation, to get ephemeral joy and strive,
They tossed their nests, in a possession to thrive,
Despite their deep exertion of working in a profound,
One morning, they toppled their beautiful edifice in the ground, left me broken hearted,
For reasons, i have sympathy in my discerning heart with deep disgrace that halted, 
Why did they pulled the whole edifice in the ground?
Why did they not cleared restored and get their home self-absorbed?
Why did they not seek for permanence, and establishment?
What was reform, really meant to them?
Was that the desolating, separating from the old soiled frame?
It is still haunting and surprising me silently with fussiness,
Does reformation transit to renovation to partial perfection or demolishing to freshness?

Arch for Evolution

Eminence crudely overcast a hindrance,
Can it thicken a voluminous grace?
What makes an appetite silent insensate?
Why is hope the only companion to compensate?
How are doldrums diabolically dwells in between?
Queries in arch for evolution are perplexedly keen:
To knowledge, kindled by candle within fence,
To Learning, as average aviator has no frame,
To mistakes, merely a favourite complain,
When not scarcely seemed, otherwise a vain,
A philosopher peace could not be depicted,
Until, redundancy radically in-tempted,
Yet, dream apprises to forward faith like envoy, 
Whatever would come, joy or envy.

A Tiger's Tale

A very fairy tale of a tiger terror's tail,
At young boyhood age he had long hopeful nail,
In eternal hues, unknown of strife,
Living happily in vivid colors of life,
Awakened his spirit on other wilds,
Remain still and composed, he was really mild,
Getting gladness, upon the entropy of echoing earth,
Strong, calm, monotonous,since his birth,
He had a philosophy, 'chaous will definitely bring the morrow',
And deep passion fitted him, with nomadic sorrow,
From fierce foes, fleeting into peace to hustle,
He decided to wander the nearby jungle,
But, some old skin tigers were already there,
Giving him a local gesture, looked out when saw the peer,
In their happiest day of happiest hour,
He asked them of their residential pride and power,
As the first glance assured, definitely had ever seen,
The old knew him, offered the red meat they had been,
He stood and asked in an astonishing chilled voice,
Where they had come, if they knew him ancestor-wise,
They greeted mutely, in old reserved speech,
Surfacing all glance, brightening all breeze,
And replied so silently, in a cross questioning grace,
If he knew lifeless stands, that they were actually ghosts,
He had not interpreted them convincingly,in truest,
That seemed very jocular, he laughed while breathing air,
Taking it false and low, transcendent in consciousness pair,
Throwing back to the old, that was not possible in real,
In very circumstances he was not acquainted with that rill,
The old were self sprinkled, bounced it back,
Depicted his woodland bounds, coursing his gaiety trait,
Dialed all moral round, Interpreted indifference, and quoted,
In a carol wild,"then, you are a ghost".