Meenas PoemsIt is love
a true and great love
a love genuine
It is love
an erotic and passionate love
a love infatuated.
It is love
an affectionate and unrequited love
a love motherly.
It is love
well accepted and looked up
a love great.
So be love
different and different in love
altogether is love.
It is a temple festival
there is a carnival
year after year, it takes place
people from around race to see
the God with a personal plea
kavadis and paal kudams abound
the breaking of coconuts in the ground
has grown from hundreds to thousands
all along the procession route
their bhakthi bears fruit
the town council makes money
with the shops in makeshift funny
an amount of few hundred thousand
all from the rentals of hundred shops
a fairly good revenue each year
the council does nothing much to cheer
the management spends from their pocket
run the show without any brackets
the main aim is to honour the Lord
that they do without any fraud
nobility needs to be recognised
has to be honoured too.
A call just now
a friend of mine spoke
so innocent in a row
feigned innocence in hold
she never looks bold
certainly a character to watch
you could never catch
she is so slippery and pleasant
moves about in a manner decent
what is in her mind no one knows
as she makes no foes
goes on with an ease in all
very careful not to tread and fall
intrudes stealthily into others
straightens herself from their curse
I, for one, got carried away
I have seen through the play
hereinafter I should be awry
as she is a being very scary.
The transitoriness bewilders
happen to see a procession
one of a wedding on the north
another of a death on the south
the one so happy and merry
the other sad and sullen
distracted I stand with eyes hovering
what to make out of the incidents?
birth and death happen day in and day out
rejoice and pain occur one after another
the way life revolves with fun and frolic
the way it rotates with melancholy and sadness
nothing is there for years together
nothing is constant all along
I stand there with an understanding
the old has to give way to the young
the dry leaves fall as new ones shoot
this be the course of the life cycle
the dead and the fresh alternate
they could be the punctuations
a pause, a forward, a straight walk
all seen in the experience it unfolds.
It is the I
that comes to my eye
whenever I g to buy
it is the I
as well as the eye.
whatever I try to tie
it is the I
as well as the eye
whenever I go in a shy
it is the I
as well as the eye.
however I try to utter a lie
it is the I
as well as the eye
the I in me
and the eyes of me
give me out.
The thoughts keep me in a cross
I have to, now and then, pause
they bind me and put me to a toss
hope holds me in its claws.
The languish and lethargy I undergo
is enough tp press me to a bow
I advance in measured time and slow
hope holds me in a flow.
The life I live is meaningless
has no significance and is senseless
I live so as to live in a less
hope share with me its bless.
If not for hope I would have gone long back
packed my bags and left it back
I sustain all these for a pack
that hope promises to extend to me on the track
The earth shakes
it quakes,caves and gobbles
a furious danseuse.
It was a bright sunshine
the sun in a glorious shine
all in a moment came the rains
it poured a while in a feign
then came back the sun in bright
again the rains drizzled in a light
this became the order of the day
with the sun and rain in a way
perhaps they indicated a variance
that being one of dissidence
bright and dark alternated
warmth and pleasant moderated
could be taken as a premonition
life has the ups and downs in motion
a surge and a fall back is how you go
be in short the life’s mode.
I
t is a custom
could be seen as a wisdom
hospitality is a word
keeps together the world
seen as a rare quality
not found in quantity
a beautiful strain
wonderful than rain
blesses the giver
bestows the taker
with two fold opportunities
that be the service
and one of acceptance
a great flexibility in the way
that keeps you all through the day.
M
y mother comes to mind often
could it be for fun
nay, she was sober and thoughtful
thinking of the next and next successful.
Firm and resolved she lived
a performer ever, never timid
strict mother and a stern administrator
set her goals far above the greater.
If at all she had been resolute until the end
had she not given away in a bend
sure she would have retained the heights
from where she fell in dire straits.
How did she stoop down? I cry
A question set across with a buy
never could I find out the reason
could that be the reason
why my mother comes to my mind often.
Meenas Poems 