It is a harp
played so sharp
the music flows
the face glows
lights up the singer
brightens up the listener
a lovely melody significant
a relaxation different
with closed eyes I hear
soft and soothing brings tears
I forgets the environment around
as the song takes me in a round
am I happy all the way?
am I sad in a sway?
I myself wonder for a moment
the song elevates my soul
enthralled I am on the whole.
Day: December 3, 2015
It is ashtami
not good to me
she says all sad
why ? it is bad
I ask her with concern
she could not discern
she nods her head this way
then her head goes the other way
I stare at her for quite some time
she went on with her rhymes
ashtami is not good for me
being the one in a plea
superstition has gone deep
it has risen up steep
hard to shake her of the belief
being immersed into it without relief
I find my way out of it i in haste
as her thoughts are not to my taste.
Categories
She being An Entertainment.
She is out of her mind
speaks somewhat in a kind
a little astray perhaps
she is but a mishap
talks big of her all the same
great of her husband not to name
thinks she is beautiful all the more
mother of her likewise being four
walks now and then at random
paces up and down in tandem
dresses up in the most ill fitting attire
well, have to prop up her in a satire
as she behaves funny and quixotic
one could dub her as an eccentric
I would not address her so
as she is a way down that in the go
her gait being very peculiar
her forehead sees her nose all clear
her nose watches her mouth all foul
she speaks with a grunt and a howl
all being so in the real status as seen
she blinks and stares without a gleam
that be her in her late sixties
imagine her at the teens
a nice way to picture her with a feel
could you find a more entertaining deal.
Categories
Macbeth —- Haiku
He being Macbeth
walks mostly without any breath
fears the death.
Categories
The Eventuality
Likewise the chaos happens
fieldwise the commotion strikes
streetwise the disturbance takes place
housewise the confusion occurs
otherwise the revolt would disappear
a revise of the eventuality on the edge.
Meenas Poems 