Meenas Poems
Live it be in the air
that of music to share
keeping the eyes closed
heard the resonating flow
forgetting the sounds around
that be of the vendor in a round
lending no ear to the milkman
who brings home milk in a big can
turning deaf to the chauffeur
who gets paid the most from my coffer
I sit unperturbed and in peace
hearing the music flowing through the trees
sat I for long with eyes closed and hands folded
as though it is an enigma that got slowly rolled.
Out in a stretch
there was a sketch
that was drawn so well
as it revealed a great tell.
It was a lively fetch
that was brought with outstretch
showing the greatness in the beat
that being so lovely and upbeat.
The picture looked beautiful in all
with scenes well designed in a call
it was an embellishment real and great
a source of amazement at a rate.
The exaltation knew no bounds
as it had gone on many rounds
with the mirth booming high
the excitement got caught in a tie.
There is peace
really. you ask
as there is no thing
that much could be seen
with peace and goodwill
as every other place
there is fight and tension
that go with a fusion
with terrorism on the sway
with corruption on to gay
with that of deception all the day
there be peace you say
what sort of peace do you mean ?
ask you bona fide
I do reply in the stride
that there is peace I assure
not found in the political
never found in business
but seen among people
who play it simple
whether there be a fight
it lasts for a day
where there is mirth
it prolongs for months
there I find peace and joy
seamless they are
entwined they look
that be peace and contentment.
this is my answer
the case of satisfaction to the reply
lies on the way you take .
Peace be with you always!
All days seem special to me
there being a ray of hope
there seeming a tinge of joy
there apparently an activity
that dawns with the day
and advances with it
assigning nothing special to every other day
be it birthdays ,anniversaries
assigning no speciality at any cost
that be my approach all these years
I expect none to wish me for any day
as I feel I am born every day
and my sleep is a death every night
waking up as a new-born f
resh
dying like a worn out exhausted
that be my philosophy all through
which none like and accept.
There be a man
who talks irrelevance
thinks he speaks relevance.
He has practised this cult for long 
speaking unnecessary
at the most unwanted time.
He talks about religion
while he could not spell
the very word.
He is a not in-depth
be that anything
talk or act.
He talks all the time
all the way to all people.
irrespective of anybody listening.
That be his genre
a not so matured in mind
not understands the essence.
Having lived so long
he feels he is great
but has become a laughing-stock.
People giggle and sneer at him
saying he is another god-man dubious
clad in robes plain.
Meenas Poems 