Meenas PoemsA laboured write
written word by word
includes a search
could I call it a hunt
for a proper word
a watch over repetition
a scratch here and there
a scroll over the sequence
a to and fro verification
all would end up in a write
apparently beautiful and flawless
would lack the tempo and the flow
comes naturally with the spontaneous
the rhythm would seem interrupted
not all can write on the spot
a gift found in a chosen few.
Being a bait
knew not how to disassociate
tried to negotiate.
The sky looks strange
exhibits an orange hue
seeing from a range
I get no clue .
It is late in the evening
the sun is about to sink
it looks like a big ring
going down through the brink.
The bluish sky almost looks dull
grey tone has settled in fast
the sun looks like a circle full
gleaming in a peculiar cast.
The orange tinge overwhelms
the variance in hue exalts
the mild ball like float in the realm
makes the dusk gleam without a fault.
As all features need a resilient status
the orange ball resumes its descent
it goes down into the blue sea in focus
the colours portray themselves in the crescent.
A straight hit
damaging not even a bit
called strategic hit
Heard of a governance
which presses in no skill
lacks all the required reference
always ready with the bill
execution is at the least
go about with their collections
accomplish none without a cheat
had been the way of administration
mostly power reigns in exactness
while money is into the participation
the work falls into the wilderness
the machinery is geared up all the more
while a show up of implications go
the governance enters with a force
the expenditure is drawn from below
a strategic way to hide up the accounts
thus runs the governance in my country
doing nothing but accounting everything 
A write with an intention
a write with a passion
differs in proportion
intention is ruled by the mind in general
passion is controlled by the heart in general
I am not writing anything new
just penning what all of you knew
what all of us know
any attempt with a wish becomes narrow
the thoughts would circle around gains
could be an attempt of feign
one of passion would be spontaneous
would reflect a contemplation vigorous
would turn out to be in faith
a projection of loveliness and sensibility.
Sitting upright
I feel alright
I stretch back
I feel the pain in the back
I lie down
I am totally down
I might sound unfamiliar
that be the most similar
as I suffer likewise
all these days otherwise
I would be asleep most of the day
all robust and gay.
A School in a residential area
set up in a tiny house
has no facility whatsoever
the children pass the hours
with no outlet whatever
a little open space in the back
serves as a place for eating and playing
restrooms are not in condition
the school is run for years together
earns a lot of revenue to the founders
the civic authorities pay no attention
that be the colossal situation
the residents find no peace in the afternoon
the Indian way of doing things ,be this one of schools.
The morning is sunny
the afternoon is lazy
the evening is rainy
the night is chilly
this had been the routine
all through these days
a comfort in many ways
a disturbance in a chase 
I see silver oil lamps
small and artistic
not fitted to a clamp
placed on a small pedestal
burning with a glow
not very bright as of being harsh
soft with a light yellow
steady and steadfast they burn for a while
the divine grace seems to descend
the lamps send out a flame in style
the mellowed gleam invigorates.
Meenas Poems 