Meenas Poems
Straight goes the line.
Straight goes the road.
Straight grows the plant.
Straight grows the crop.
Straight stands the man.
Straight stands the animal.
Straight goes the majority.
Straight goes not all .
It is straight everywhere.
What goes not straight?.
It is mind.
Deities sparkle with diamond crowns.
The dazzling finds itself in all rounds.
The spectacular delight knows no bounds.
The galaxy of crowns and outfits win over.
The eyes of the devotees make a splendid rover.
Feeding on the exciting ostentation with a devour.
The golden and silver outfits are heavy.
Decking the deities with them is not easy.
They pressurize the idols inflicting marks sticky.
Adorning the idols causes damage to them.
Flowery crowns and garlands charm them.
Dressing them with colourful silk adds grace to them.
The deities in their expensive dresses look different.
They appear as images with features indifferent.
The created shine robs the glow in the affront.
Well the rich indulge in such dear fanaticism.
Showing to the world their wealthy enthusiasm.
They wantonly plunder the temples of their divine realism.
The deities in temples are divine.
They are made of stones fine.
They elucidate a lovely shine.
Deities have sculptural beauty.
The artisans carve it with duty.
Giving them a lofty credibility.
Bringing out a design of chastity.
Deities are now decked with outfits in gold
They make the deities appear bold.
The shine extols the charm people are told.
Gold deduces the divinity to a mere metallic hold.
Silver too competes with the metal yellow.
The mercurial dazzle dims the glow.
Grace is dimmed by the silvery flow.
Money overtakes purity in a slow.
Temples are no longer place of prayer.
They indulge in display of wealthy layer.
We hear no songs sung with fervour.
We listen to talks of self praise all over.
Temples no longer exude warmth.
They detract every one by exposing wealth.
Instigating a feeling of stealth.
Sealing the mind with ill-health.
Quarter has lots of shelter
It shows in fours as an alter.
Quarterly results have volumes to infer.
The quarters are lovely decipher.
The quarter of the world is land.
The rest is water in eternal grand.
One quarter of the world has light in hand.
The next quarter has night in brand.
The first quarter of the year takes rapid stride.
Mild set back settles in the next quarter’s ride.
Followed by fatigue in the third quarter’s side.
Finally the last quarter seeks a hide.
Quarter professes a sluggish 
demeanour.
It induces a slight intoxication in the behaviour.
This specific fraction is bereft of grandeur.
As it has no gusto in the life’s reservoir.
Full has a lovely gloss.
So it is always a full toss.
Full leads across.
As it shows up in gross.
The flowers enchant in full bloom.
They instantly dispel gloom.
They look beautiful in a zoom.
Activating a fertile boom.
The nightingale sings in full-throated ease.
Releasing melody from the cluster of trees.
The voice glides through as if it is a breeze.
Capturing everyone with a solemn appease.
The full moon shines bright over the night.
Illuminating the darkness with a white light.
The full moon in the black sky is a glorious sight.
Enticing all with a charm bright.
Full size of anything is amazing.
The fullness is at times alarming.
Letting a feeling that is terrifying.
Endearing a crazy note that is mystifying.
The conspiracy hatched is half way through.
The dealing is a half-hearted attempt in view.
The discussion seems to be half over without a clue.
The outcome is dead, half dead , true.
He enters the scene with half a mind
He seems to be half awake not totally blind.
He looks half mad without a slightest bind.
He is partially half dumbfounded delivering nothing kind.
Half of anything looks good.
Half of anything appears bad too.
Half of all things describes plenty.
Half of all things depict a frugality too
The price quoted is only half the value.
Proposing an arbitrary half pursue.
The fixation would bring half the revenue.
Recording an unproductive reconciliation all through.
The lips curve half denoting a weary smile.
The eyes cast a half look expressing a guile.
The speech is half-baked exposing a frivolous pile.
The gait is half strained illustrating a peevish style.
The idea half usurps the feasibility most often.
The thought half pitches every now and then.
The outcome half delineates an uneasiness in turn.
The plausibility of half directs an unsure enthusiasm solemn.
Expenses are too many.
They cause an agony.
They implicate an irony.
They are as oppressive as tyranny.
Expenses give worry.
They bring about a hurry.
They instigate a fury.
Allowing a deep bury.
Expenses speedily go ahead.
As they take away the bread.
They demand a sizeable shred.
Cutting short the thread.
Expenses are never expected.
They come at the moment unwanted.
Casting a shadow most followed .
Finally succumbing to a fall out.
Expenses get on the saddle.
They carry on with a paddle.
Pressurizing the entity with a rattle.
Releasing an incessant prattle.
Expenses are obtrusive.
They are mostly intrusive.
Often they are incisive.
Enforcing a trend decisive.
Expenses are to be met.
As they are inordinately set.
They usher a fret.
Leading to a bet.
Expenses are always alarming.
They are more or less unnerving.
They elicit a fear threatening.
Leaving a passionate decrying.
It is a half crescent.
It looks nascent.
It tends to be stringent.
It has a status regent.
It grows with pleasure.
It wanes in measure.
It succumbs to pressure.
In a lethargic leisure.
Indeed it is a covetous treasure.
Every fortnight it grows in size.
Every other fortnight it demurely lies.
Its expansion has a phenomenal rise.
Its contraction has defeated ties.
Irresistbly it has a fascinating prize.
It shines in the night.
Emitting a cool light.
Expressing no flight.
Empowering a rational plight.
Indeed it delivers a lovely sight.
Does it not exhibit an analogue?
Does it not record a dialogue?
Does it not appear as a prologue?
Does it not sound like an epilogue?
Curiously it is not in thetreasure, leisure, ressure, pleasure, sight, catalogue.
Lost is days of youth.
Lost is days of mirth.
Lost is days of joy.
Lost is days of toy.
Lost is days of evolution.
Lost is days of the revolution.
Lost is days of enthusiasm.
Lost is days of experiences awesome.
Lost is days of adaptability.
Lost is days of flexibility.
Lost is days of attraction.
Lost is days of distractions.
Lost is days and years.
As we lose ourselves in tears.
Equality is the word most pronounced these days.
Men and women are equal in all ways.
This in reality is only a say.
Men still rule high though with a prolapse.
They set aside their ominous lapse.
They walk with pride even in a collapse.
Women still toil in profound silence.
They brush aside every offence.
They are expected not to raise their voice in defence.
Men are not any better than the women.
In truth women fare well than men.
The fact which provokes all men.
Women strive for excellence.
Perfection is their preference.
They interact with lot of sense.
Women rule with an iron hand.
Their executions are always grand.
They add the charm to the band.
There is slipshod in their stance.
There are breaks and falls by chance.
That do not disqualify them from our glance.
Appreciation is what they require.
Scathing criticism they do not desire.
Their enthusiasm is a lovely fire.
Men and women are entwined in life.
They go ahead together in strife.
Living graciously as man and wife.
Meenas Poems 