Meenas PoemsGetting angry for nothing at all
has been his way in all
especially towards me
he speaks with no glee
throws a look unkind
that keeps one in a bind
with others he is benign
smiles with love and shine
this makes me indignant
I try to be defiant
well, that is the way my life goes
where I have to be always in toes.
know not how long it would prolong?
have to endure it with such a subdued song.
Throwing her school bag
the little one rushed to me
pitching herself against me
she made daring gestures.
Know not why she was angry
got her by the frills of her frock
querying the reason for her anger
I got not a lovely smile usually being hers.
Caught in a turmoil and apprehension
thinking how to bring back her to her usual self
I sat silent for a while with patience untold
putting up with her tantrums all the same.
Having been quite some time
she came to me with heads down
saying she had a bad time at school
getting reprimanded by her teacher .
I let her at that level
not bothering her with my curiosity
as I knew it would intensify further
took hold of her and ran my fingers through her hair
Angry she is very angry all through.
knowing not what to do
knowing not why she was so
sat worried all through the day
At dusk went to her slowly
still wild with burning rage
she turned away hastily
not wanting to see me at any stage.
Walked slowly back with eyes down
knowing not how to appease her
thought of what wrong I had done
breaking my head as ow to satisfy her.
Looking at me with a raised head
she said in a voice soft and firm
you have gifted a book to my brother instead
not thinking of me in any term.
Unable to explain my act to the little girl fair
as she is a just a four-year old child
placed her in my lap talked to her with care
saying that her book is on the way my grand
child.
The gangrene is in the foot.
It is ferociously angry .
It resembles a reddish flame.
The sore falls apart.
Blood oozes out.
It glitters unashamed.
It looks horrible and ugly.
Subscribing much towards an abstract gangrene.
It lies deep in the heart.
It is rudely ferocious.
It is soaked in jealousy.
It exhibits animosity.
The abscess bursts with force.
Letting out ill will and venom in one go.
The physical affliction is unbearable.
The wound heals up with care.
The mental agony dispels hope.
The extradition becomes a torture.
The body heals.
The mind suffers.
It is the non existent that truly exists.
It was a beautiful red flower in full bloom.
It was a pleasing red .
It was a lovely red.
It was a cheerful red.
It was not angry red.
It was not fiercely red.
It was not dangerously red.
It beckoned with a grace.
It reckoned with a poise.
It depicted a welcome choice.
It portrayed a smiling face.
The red flower’s charm lasted a day.
The red colour faded the next day.
The next morn it drooped down dead on the ground grey.
Meenas Poems 