Meenas PoemsZeal turns into passion
passion into ambition
while ambition overwhelms
be a wish to rule the realm
the aspiration takes over
transforms into an obsession all over
while there deep into the center
the appetite becomes ravenous in genre
it takes over in a massive usurp
justifies itself in a strange deserve
the means is not important as found
the end surfaces in an abound.
The impertinence I find around
the lies I hear around
the snorts I hear around
the scorn I see around
the vengeance I see around
the foul- mouthed I hear around
the slander I hear around
the filth I see around
make me not to see anything 
around
force me not to hear anything around
An uneasy calm
could be a qualm
can be after a storm
might be before a warm
may seem to be a norm
well, the uneasiness lies
found not in all cries
seen not in all buys
explicit in all lies
could be a trial in a way
a struggle all through the days.
Absolute can it be
fulfill it has to be
overwhelming it would be
over and above it should be
the phrases and their usages
the idioms and their range
the epithets on the verge
the alliteration in a surge
all enhance the language
there be a no difference
the reading leads to an inference
could be a subtle reference
throw light on interpretations
emanate a suspicion
could it be that in terms?
would it be that in forms?
should it be in a firm? 
It is silence all the way
no noise in the day
there could be a play
without a scream in stay
there could be a celebration
without a bustle all day
there could be a study
without a hassle in a say
there could be a travel
without a fanfare in a way
there could be a meal
without a ostentation in play
there could be an action
without grief being one of gay
there could be a living
without a hiccup in a stay
there 
be the beautiful ray
which lasts all through the day.
It is a trance
be it a chance
a priest in a dance
his eyes gleam red
he seems to be dead
then his eyelids close and shut
his words resemble a fret
the audience light the camphor
he wriggles his body in a vigour
the sambrani burns into fumes
a pleasant odour looms
the spectators put forth their queries
he answers them in a reverie
they listen to him with utmost reverence
as he is equal to the almighty in a reference
I sit there with a thought all the while
suspicion gathers in me in a strange style
could this man have such capacity?
not at all my mind warns me with a reliability
how could I make my friends understand?
they are neverthe
less blind in their stand.
Like to view
thousands of things in queue
without a cue
has been long overdue
keeps me in blue.
The role of a house wife
being a task in real life
hundreds of chores
keep her on toes
the children call her
the husband behind her
the tasks force her
not a moment for her
being very much explicit
whatever be the deficit
be it money or material
she has to travel arterial
the mind full of a load
she attaches to a board
being that one of memory
an absolute makes her merry
a slip puts her in a quarry
she walks on a tight rope
manages well on the slopes
a house wife efficient she be
a fittest acclaimed she be 
Thread inserted in a powdered rice ball
specially prepared for the festival
could sound a peculiar call
celebrated by a community not trivial
remarkable for their philanthropy .
The avaram flower yellow and bright
the paddy stalk green and white
along with mango leaves in a fasten tight
altogether to an one foot stick straight
placed on either side of the God Pillayar.
The cereals ellu, kambu in quantity small
puffed rice ,paddy and aval in similar measure
the kolam sketched on the floor and on the wall
punctuated with the community’s distinct flavour
karuppatti paniyaram, velllai paniyaram in call
adorn with the coconut, betel leaves and betel nuts.
The prayer being all set with not a fanfare
the head of the family lights up the threaded rice ball
dipped in ghee to the blowing of conch with great care
the members take it with a joyous call
the ritual being an honour of God Pillayar.
it is a beautiful celebration with faith intense
the togetherness eventfully depicted
being celebrated on the day of concurrence
of sashti and satyam as indicated
known as “Pillayar Nonbu”.
It is an up and down
as the swing goes
a moment it is joy
the next it is grief
a jubilation all through
could have been very true
but a setback sudden and quick
pushes one into the corner
this could be the life’s play
like the swing as I say
a rise up and up
a fall down and down
be the stride as seen
nothing could be foreseen.
Meenas Poems 