Meenas PoemsCome summer
the sun rages high
the place burns hot
an interlude is on the way
found in the festivals
that abound and rebound.
To beat the heat
the people indulge in celebrations
seek a relief in the rituals
as mirth and rejoice divert
the strain of the scorching sun.
The festivals are colourful
with people attired in their best
the deities adorned with jewels
move in a procession with illumination
the devotees following the chariots
chanting with piety 
Jack and Jill
went up the hill
goes the rhyme
in all its chime.
The way they went up to fetch a pail of water
tells us there was shortage of water
in those places less hotter
the ancient age faced hardships also 
matters.
Brush not the nursery rhyme as simple
it illustrates with an example
Jack fell down in a tumble
and broke his crown in a fumble.
Water has turned a rare commodity
with the global warming in the vicinity
foretold in the song of infinity
a caution which signifies great curiosity.
The nuts and fruits
the vegetables and milk
the oil and spices
plenty of water in addition
go to make up the diet
one of wholesome
one of healthy
with them equally apportioned
hunger is appeased
thirst is quenched
body is rejuvenated
punctuated with the timely intake
along with a preparation loving
No menu is better than this
no recipe is best
a full circle of all these
and a lively exercise
lend 
a graceful existence
Curious to know about others
not lets out anything of herself
excavates the details from friends
scoops them with aroma
spreads the news with a flavour
then sits back with a complacency.
This is the way she lives
calls every other at odd hours
speaks not of much importance
leaves a bait unobtrusively
pulls the words from the mouth
that is her strength all the day.
She moves about happily
pokes and sneaks
interrogates the near and dear
guards her inner self with care
eavesdrops and spills out
what there is and what there is not.
The undue panic
makes me dull
not wanting to do anything
forces me to sit and contemplate .
What do I contemplate?
I know not
with the mind dormant
not a thought strikes me.
Why has this syndrome developed?
I ponder
Lo! I am again at no start
as I sit there like a stone.
What is the issue?
I struggle to find out.
Oh! I try to deliberate
as I watch the cloudless sky.
Is it that I have nothing to do?
that turns me dull.
I rise up from my seat
and try to catch up with myself.
Will I succeed in my attempt?
I doubt myself
If it had been a few years ago
I would have realised myself in no time.
Unnatural It is of me
a case of losing heart over nothing
never did I experience such a despair
as I am doing all the way now.
A poem is a painting
without colours.
a splash of words
with a throw of rhyme.
The painting is in a canvas
an illustration colourful
The eyes relish the art
while the feel is an experience.
Poetry is a writing
an emotional spontaneity 
The read exalts the soul
a representation of the gifted.
Paint and verse need a skill
a nicety and a touch
those of no ordinary talent
a special flamboyance .
Talk he not relevant
speaks he not truth
curses all the more
swears all the most
foul-mouthed he is
spreads scandals on the go
spills out slanders on the move.
He has lived long so
not bothered about other’s hurt
dwells with pride at his skill
he is an entertainer at first
then comes his second deal
it is sarcasm to the core
a pointed attack severe.
Such men do live
a parasite like entity
glorified by their tongue
relished by the evil
yet they prosper
a life based on others sweat
a creature to be condemned
The vacant land
and the empty mind
lie there dormant
The land appreciates in value
with years in the run
a fortune to the landlord.
The mind that is idle
thinks not of anything
rots and rusts eventually.
That be the difference
the land turns productive in a sense
the mind becomes useless all the way.
A life wasted all through
with nothing to wish 
and none to cherish
The evaluations are intriguing
The poetic appraisal at times are killing
The poem is dissected and torn
the beauty is robbed
the idea is mulled
and the poem loses is identity.
The same goes with the physic as well
The small changes are shown big
the big ones create a scare
the physician pose themselves great
the apprehension creates panic
and the body turns weak.
The evaluation is to be taken
not to accurate form
limited to certain level
it is a factor that guides
it is not the end
as 
there are many options
that couls be considered.
Up in the sky
I see a dove flying high
calm and sober in her try
She cruises up with no effort
She turns down all in a sudden
her white supple body is not a burden
she glides gracefully into the garden
straightens herself with a pose
She walks slowly down the aisle
makes no noise as she passes with a style
swerves her milky white body
perching herself on the tree
Her little ones nestle
close to her when she enters
she places them in a hole
as she wants to build a nest new.
The dove flies up and down
busy in her sojourn
She sets a perfect tone
as a mother in the fore
She embodies purity and love
a sign of peace is the dove
looks like an angel in the grove
moving about with poise 
Meenas Poems 