Meenas PoemsIt is not a story
nor a tale fairy
a dedicated life
of a devoted wife
silent into the spree
never was free
always under the husband
never thought of any refund
with him in his achievements
quiet was her involvement
the man rode to success
she was away from access
honoured he in his life time
remained she unseen
died she unknown
into the glory all too soon.
I sit a long way away
my children in continents
not the same but different
not in the same hemisphere
one in the north up above
the other in the south down below
the third one in the center
and I a little further towards east
all of us thrown all over the world
seems interesting in a way
never too easy to move about
pangs of separation haunts most
should have visa to see each other
what a life I am into in a stroke
I bemoan and curse myself
the world has become global
the travel still holds tight
regulations takes the toll
commercials find their way
humanity remains stranded.
The dull weather around
little sun and little warmth
very sultry at times
humid all through
calls for a walk around
Walk to the aisle
stand there for a moment
look across the garden
that seems duller still
leaves droop and grass dry.
Return to the patio
sit there with a book
peruse the pages
they appear dullest of all
push the book away .
Lie down on the bed
eyes stuck to the roof
a picture traverses the mind
very prosaic and uninteresting
slumber escapes in a way.
The dull I say
abounds and overwhelms
sadness descends slowly
know not why it happens?
an uneasiness prevails all day.
The coconuts from the garden
small they have become
gone without water be the reason
rains have deceived in all seasons
the nuts look dry and parched
exceed in numbers though
starved they seem 
on the exterior
the inside looks great with cheer
butter like slippery substance
lies there almost in most
hold little water sweet
the tender sleeves are tasty
lovely to bite with ease
like to say like Keats
all things small are beautiful
Planned a day out
the thought was out
came there a fall out
at home throughout.
It has been a long time
my tree yielded fruits
they be yellow in a way
not very bright nor dull
a chaste colour on the skin
round they were in shape
neither too big nor too small
a pictorial effect they released
the yellow on the green background
the tree not so tall and big
modest and stylish on the twig
the lemon has such fragrance
filled the air with a flair
reluctant to pluck them asunder
stood there almost in a trance
if left on the tree all the more
would dry up and fall down
there be no use whatsoever
took them in the basket
caressed them with love altogether
soon they would be squeezes for juice
cut into halves and fours for pickle
the skin would lay in the trash
years ago the cut pieces of the skin
lay in the sun for days together.
powdered and sieved by my mother
used in daily bath instead of soap
a nourisher to skin lending a glow
a cleanser to the hair
turning it bright and glowing
Well, I have strayed away
from the tree to the powder
that be my way all these days
from one to other I jump
not focused and never attentive
to the script and to the points
What, a being I am !
A delayed pause
proposes a difficulty to pass
called as menopause.
The heart turns heavy
the head revolves in a kind
tears flow down freely
as news of death came at noon
a woman of great strength
stored everything in mind
no word drops out in a hurry
that be her forte
lived so long so
with tempers under control
spoke a few times when necessary
silence most of the period
a lady of great capability
not on to university
a scholar by experience
sober and sullen she lived
quiet and dignified she passed away
this day of the month at early morn
daughters all around her in togetherness
hope her mandate would go down
to her progeny without a break
would 
raise her flag with pride
though her breath has sunk down
her spirit lives all around
a kindly light has taken its flight
God be with her always!
A crash there be
all in a sudden it be
the flight from Netherlands
crossed the alien land
would that be Ukraine
where turbulence reigns
the passengers all on board
been on flight not bored
the hope of many a one
a wish of mostly none
the want to see places
the thought of those in gazes
never dreamt of the missile fire
sealed them into the pyre
young and old altogether
of any nationality together
fell from the skies as embers
could this be a day worthy to remember
A little away from the world
a small distance from the people
a break from the relations
a flight from the friends
has been a lovely status
keeps the peace in mind
the mind is at rest
the physic is in the flow
thoughts run not slow
there transcends a bliss
know not how to explain.
Meenas Poems 