Meenas PoemsIn the world of greed
there is no breed
or ain’t be no creed
that speaks of good read
boasts of taking a lead
be it in any feed
goes down in the deed
not fulfilling anything with the seed
but making it to terribly bleed
extinguishing it as it is not in need
down the drain it goes without any heed
and that be the end of all greed.
Grace be with you
called a voice
startled by the call
rushed to see
who it would be?
Seeing none out there
turned back with a fear
as none would call out so loud
crossed the door with a thought
heavy and full of despair .
There again called the voice
Grace be with you
holding the heart
that jumped out
I moved forward.
Seeing none again there
closed the door firmly
wishing not to hear once more
but the voice again rose up
with the Grace be with you.
I sat tightly on my chair
feeling that this is but a mischief
played well by my grandson
who thinks I am his playmate
wanting to make a fool out of me.
Th economy is fast growing
with a speculation of great growth
which says that inflation is under control
the buying capacity has increased
and with that goes the vibration
wherein we see a stimulus
that has accelerated the growth
with the manufacturing on the increase
and jobs growing more
leading to a dwindle of the job seekers claim
heralding a growth of ultimate production
with the banks looking cheerful
and their deposits increasing
their rates still the same
the productivity all around
foresees a great turn around
growing not with pain
but with beautiful content 
.
Writing a diary
has never been my practice
as such recording the events
chronologically with own views
gets me on the nerves
as I
feel incidents that happen
if vital would get registered firmly in the mind
and if not serious enough
would diffuse and get forgotten
that being my attitude
I tried once and the lat
writing the days happenings
but could not go further
as my hand did not move
knowing fully well
that my mind is not for it
being half way through
it refused to move
with that I closed my diary
and then never thought of writing any more.
The acceleration of the swings
that be from one end to other
with the westerlies picking up force
the rains playing truant all the while
perceiving a big violence all over
with the trees going to and fro
as if in their speed the roots would come up
that being a situation alarming
the land seemed to shake with a shiver
where everything else looks imbalanced
the cries of animals go
unheard
as they say the animals know
and predict the vagaries of weather
man in his closeted privacy
does not pay heed to the sounds of these animals
who get a premonition
that something distraught is on the way.
I could hear no noise
it is damn still
silence is itself a sound 
that has no voice
but imposes a terrible feel
it also lends out a great deal
a scenario of tenseness
where there arises a fear
that of being with no one
sometimes it is very inviting
most times it takes us away
creating an awe and scare
awesome it is to be in silence
might be for a temperate
on the long run it is not entertained
as silence and darkness
get going with hand altogether
the plausibility of being alive
has to be equated with life
the breathing has to be juxtaposed
the nerves and veins have to have a let out
for that we need company
not that of human entirely
but that of sound mostly
not jarring but pleasant
that be of music pleasing
that be of talk enlightening
that be of a cackle enlivening
that be of a chuckle invigorating
a company of like mindedness
would become a gracious treasure.
