It is weird
absolutely weird
a man well reared
having a beard
sneered
with contempt
made an attempt
and tried to pre-empt
dumped
his possessions
with an assumption
they have a valuation
illusion
that is how it turned
lay there spurned
finally got burnt
a stunt.
Month: December 2014
It is a wedding
where two people unite
take the vow of marriage
well, at a reasonable age
arranged as in India
love as in other parts
the occasion is historic
not to all but to the family
then why such a noise?
why such an ostentation?
why such an expenditure?
above all why such a fuss?
I sit behind and ponder
many think I am foolish
term me as an eccentric
call me a crack
Am I any of the one?
Oh! gracious, let me know.
December reigns supreme
always looks like a dream
with snow all over like a cream
taking a shape of a lovely beam
high and low in a deem
with a freeze in the stream
it’s a glittering gleam
like a white angel in a redeem
being 
a loveliness all out there in a seam.
A little away into the street
hear a sound of a drum beat
so loud and upbeat
that being in a narrow lane
could see nothing from the glass pane
louder and louder the noise gains
seemed to strike the heart fiercely
the ears go deaf and lose their capacity
wondered what for it is?
with difficulty went past the crowd
saw to my dismay it was death out in the house
an old woman had died a few hours or close
the mourners engaged the drummers to beat wild
an attempt to scare off the devils in hide
got out fast unable to accept the claim
Is that a way to mourn a death? I acclaim
Well, superstition is in a flame
Stand aghast with a question who should be blamed?
it was thirty minutes past four
well into the early morning
between dark and dawn quite cold
with none of the humans up and around
the world was busy otherwise in a get up
the birds were ready for their fare
their cackle and chirp bustling in a bound
there were the others insects moving up and down
enjoying the beauty and serenity together
a wonderful thoroughfare was in the hub
an orchestral music being played with interest
without the interference of man’s artificial signs
hoots and honks, fumes and dust all prevalent
it is the nature in all wholly at its best.
Nevertheless they say.
None the less it goes
More or less it matters
Little less they play.
The less is found in all
Hopeless they fall
Useless they call
Ruthless they behave.
The less you are the great you feel
The less you talk the more you achieve.
The less you weigh the most agile you feel.
The less anger doubles your joy.
That be a song on less.
Please do not value it less.
I thought in a way of less.
I wrote in a way different about less
Soft she was in her talk
smile she did at any task
a tenderness not shown to all
she could also hurt in a call.
Soft she was with her children always
never did she restrict their ways
wayward they went as times passed
uncontrollable they became very fast.
Just like that she made spiteful remarks
easily she passed such in a flowing embark
never once felt she had hurt so many others
that was her character in short rather.
Her children brought her ignominy
she kept aside all those as a testimony
the failure in not chastising her kids
got compensated in all her other bids.
That way she lived and passed
never thought she has trespassed
her darker side was veiled
bright side of her face failed.
Not that I want to say anything ill of her
the stab she unwittingly inflicted on others
leaves a dismay and disappointment in a tell
a stigma she has left behind her in a shell.
it was a day of fortune
the events were in tune
the day dawned 
bright
the activities started right
a quick walk around
a stroll in the surround
a leisurely bath very soothing
and a quiet breakfast reviving
stream of phone calls in the line
not one but all in nine
one by one they disclose
desirable transactions in force
eyes light up with astonishment
iit is hard to believe, an amazemen
Well, the day has begun well
as my heart enlarges with a swell
The pictures of me when young
looking very robust and strong
smiling with no worries at all
cherubic and chubby in all
eyes glittering with a twinkle
the skin showing no wrinkles
the thoughts very much clear
the outlook was none of fear
moving with ease all around
spreading happiness in rounds
was an apple of my mother’s eye
though a little reserved and a bit shy
I lived like a princess in the household
which now looks dilapidated and is 
in many folds.
Categories
The Child Folds
The child with tired eyes
sits there with no choice
goes about in endless tries
folds the leaves in speed
knows not its end-use and need
the tenderness of the hand is lost indeed.
wrinkled the tiny fingers look
mangled they seem almost hooked
yet the tiny hands manipulate without brook
with tears in the eyes welling 
and pain in the face pricking
a meagre amount in the pocket filling
the innocent eight-year-old turns responsible.
Meenas Poems 