Meenas PoemsWith rains playing truant
with the sun shining high in a vivant
the place looks deserted and deviant
with no greenery and verdant
as the trees have dried and look scary
leaves have turned yellow and appear weary
people look exhausted and cheerless
sweltering in heat and helpless
perspiring greatly fuming and frothing
well, the global warming
has played the havoc greatly
making the fertile land a desert instantly
and a desert still worse immediately.
Mountains look high and tall
Majestic and towering they recall
Gigantic and awesome they appear.
A fine land mass brisk and elaborate
stretching very extensively
almost touching the sky upwards
at the most rising from the ground
up they go in steep heights
Round and round they climb in great weights.
Lofty and holy they seem from earth
with green trees and plants as wealth.
They being Nature’s rhythmic delight
calli
for a peep and peer from within the light.
The wind is a song pleasing
with a breeze blowing gently
humming into your ears
passing through your face
making your hair fly
and you enjoy the soft blow,
The wind also is a song of anger.
as a storm blowing fiercely
upsetting every other on the way
destroying the ambience
killing a few in its ferocious blow
devastating the lives of many.
The wind blows sad
with the haunting sound
penetrating through the trees
making the leaves rustle in melancholy
more or less echoing like a cry
as though emanating from the wilderness.
The bellows of the instruments
derive their music from the wind
with the flute and harmonica
along with the trumpet and saxophone
with clarinet and the Indian 
that work on the wind’s technique.
