Meenas PoemsFascination depends on each
could be different in a reach
a child loves toys
they are his joy
a girl likes a beautiful dress
it must be her press
you might like money
makes you sunny
I might love to write
puts me in the path right
each one likes and lives
that renders them an allow
Too much obsessed with worldly matters
I am very much tired and in tatters
the politics has its own image
one of greed and cheat at all stage.
the business goes with a motto
profit and profit all the more
the family tries to sweep
with the wants and wishes deep
unable to come to terms either way
I stand deposed from my stay
could a close of my life
bring tranquility to my soul
I would be more than pleased
it should come to me fast I implead
would it come soon to me all the more?
The season comes to my land
not any way with Nature
a way it goes with a brand
being that of admission of stature
right from play school to professional
a rush and fuss altogether
the former by those who seek in general
the latter by those who give rather
what a demand! I look with aghast
learning has become an obsession in the east
the clamour for seats in schools best
no matter how high the fees are in least
the aspiration to become educated is not for love
it depends on the earnings in total
money is the magical word that persuades
an achievement in the monetary sense
never for wisdom as many consider it a nonsense.
I had seen many things in life
I had seen good things to an extent
bad things exceed in number and strength
I am being relative though
good things correspond to kindness on whole
the kinder you are the nobler you be
kindness is awesome without any dole
bad things take me beyond the norms
evil be the only word I could find to denote
decries and howls at you with a fierceness
supersedes you in no time without a note
you become a victim and a player in oneness
a vulnerability settles with a strangeness
the little good you have disappears
you become evil, think evil and talk evil
that be the destiny of badness
possessed they are of evil in darkness
.
Fortunate in all sense
I am the one insensible
my heart turns heavy and dense
it is the most possible
nothing else works as I wish
my heart too flounders and beats
I cry and shout only with a hiss
my organs drive me round the beats
I sit and gaze a the sky
I often do that to be in tune
I look at the stars high
twinkle as well in a fine tune
ask the stars in a voice soft
were you not ever cheated?
the stars let out a twinkle fast
could it mean they too were cheated
I drag the stars to my side in fast
it looks to me that they say
it is not you and me in the world
it is all those who are quiet through the days
would be deprived and deceived in acts and word.
A letter forwarded
came as a surprise
long back, I have read
a similar one of a type
the art of writing I know
calls for simplicity in a flow
where words are like flowers
soft and delicate in a course
this letter I read
had high strung words
not one was beautiful
all were rugged and incomprehensible
know not the writer would himself know
for a stupid is referred as a nincompoop
writes he, the descendants are in existence
none so far has departed, a redundancy
he writes like this from times long ago
thinks he is the best writer in terms
never would I vouch for him in terms.
It is a carelessness
dodges me now and then
Could it be of thickness
or could it be in the dense
both the mind and memory
leave me now for a break
I do not know what to do
without them in the take
I turn irrelevant in a show.
Well they ask with impertinence
how long could we serve you?
you have to practice diligence
and revert your due
please allow us to rest alone
without your intimacy
we would be better off in tone
away from your dependency.
I have become a despondent
not physical in an abrupt sense
not have a stick to support
nor an aid to alert my senses
my eyes are not with glasses
my abstract undergoes turns and twists
memory has deserted me long ago
the mind tries to wander around
with not a stick I stick to a logo.
The logo tells of the delirium
feverish in the mind and thought
what would be the optimum?
unknowingly I hasten to the slot
where I do not recognise myself
I sit there in the amiss for long
my eyes hover not with a focus
soon I would merge into a song.
Mother’s day special it is
a wish and a gift with a thought
would lead to a bliss
allow it to prosper in all slots
A wish could keep you going
a thought from far and near
a gift also a buoying
that one from the dear.
Mothers all over the world
relish this day with a joy
an appreciation in words
worth a million in an enjoy.
A concept much new now
not known during my days
never wished my mother in a know
while she remained in stay.
Good to remember the one who begot you
I would vouchsafe even more not a wish alone
a day is insufficient in a clue
as she still holds you without a frown.
Every day is Mother’s Day
as she is the best of all 
that belongs
call her anyway
wish her with a happy song.
Here rain pours
the sun shines with strength
an equatorial Malaysia 
A theorem gives you a hypothesis
with that you come out with a thesis
it is a research in a kind
leading to a lot of finds.
A theorem is a proved fact
leads you to results intact
it is a geometrical one basically
be an approval intrinsically.
A theorem is an interpretation
the proofs are an exposition
that would happen if it is so
a general application in a flow.
A theorem could be a proposition
not only in geometrical disposition
they are altered to lifestyle
a modification in the trial.
The theorem of life in proposition
covers all the perceptions
not alienating the rise and fall
inclusive of all.
Meenas Poems 