Meenas PoemsI do write .
I try to write.
To let me see the world
not through eyes
but through my write.
I do write.
I try to write
to let me hear things
not through my ears
but through my write.
I do write
I try to write
to make me talk
not through my voice
but through my write.
Well I do write
I try to write
to initiate a feel
not through the physical
but through my write.
Yes that makes me write.
I do write.
I try to write.
Keeping myself to myself
not wanting the people to know me
I keep a low profile and talk very less.
I am not a big shot for everybody to know.
I am a small fry in the sea of humanity
and live almost away from the crowd.
Wishing not to socialize much
and wanting to take the back rows in meetings
I have passed unknown all these years.
A few days back I had to see a circle of people
who are total strangers to me rather I thought so
but who on first seeing me cast a curious glance
I tried to pull my face away quickly
but they did come close to me
and asked me you are so and so
an so and so’s daughter
I myself I think I am old
but now bringing in my parents
I felt a little odd but had to say yes
as I dare not deny my parentage.
Tired of standing for long
sat on a bench nearby.
It was old but looked strong
so without thinking sat on it.
Had a comfortable time for an hour
then unable to bear my weight for long
it started to give way.
It creaked and groaned
unmindful I sat on it in pretty gay.
It gave the next signal with a sound
Still I carried on with my own will.
Not able to tolerate me anymore
it split into two with a bang.
dropping me down on th ground
lay I
still there for few moments
then collected myself together
pulling my legs and feet first
then gathering my hand and head
got up with great strain
and walked off with a visible limp
down the lane to everybody’s view.
Of late I am succumbing to forgetfulness
thinking of something while doing another thing
has become a way of my life nowadays
that keeps me off the memory track now and then.
Once looked upon for strong memory
while my friends dubbed it as very cruel
now I am at the mercy of my memory
trying to recollect with lot of pains
but if I pass anyone who smiles at me
I proceed with a big grin and bigger nod
If some other comes near and talks
i am at a loss as my grin gives out very quickly.
I make up the whole thing pretending to know them
and talk generally about weather and place
thus escaping from the incorrigible forgetfulness
that has seized me in the recent days.
The lovely little pansy
peeps through the daffodils
calling you to see her
reminding you of her presence.
Mostly she goes unnoticed in the garden
as she is surrounded by flowers
which bear 
grandeur and fame
There being a strain of running here and there
driving up in the morn
coming down in the evening
with a light lunch in between
walking through the whole area
while the sun is shining bright
right over the head letting out a scorch
engaging in picking up loose fruits
then counting the bigger ones
overseeing that they be loaded without any miss
going behind the lorry to the weigh bridge
getting the fruits weighed properly
returning to follow the same routine.
Well, this has been happening for the past few years
sapping the energy and draining the health
leaving me a faint fatigued being
I am now a ghost of what I had been earlier
looking tired and sun burnt with lifeless eyes
Living in a land of tradition
where orthodoxy is adamant
where now there is a mild diffusion
encumbering the values and culture
invigorating the beliefs and faith
proves to be anything suffocating.
The land is going through a transition
where there is going to be a confrontation
leading to a definite collision
which would cause a pandemonium
and loss that would escape calculation
making the land bereft of heritage.
Meenas Poems 