Meenas PoemsNot having seen my own country
wish to travel the world
having seen the major countries
have in my list London
that could be done shortly
my wait is to go to Varanasi
where every Hindu has to go
before he or she dies.
Reblogged from poesyon.blogspot.com
A cry heard
could be from a herd
never to be deferred.
An ache felt
could be from the belt
always to be dealt.
An illness might be
due to a fall as be
unmanageable indeed.
It is a long road
winding and steep
away from the main
secluded and broad.
None prefers to go through
being far and away
the road being different
aloof and undulating in true.
The road less traversed
lies unused for long
a day comes to the play
when it tops up the cross.
The lonely road is full of buzz
vehicles go up and down
incessant in their plight
has become a famed one in a plus.
Being the path of life as seen
the one which lies low
suddenly rises up to prominence
that be the choice in a deem.
The remains of anything
the reminiscent of anything
the retrospection of anything
the regurgitation of anything
the resurgence of anything
the renovation of anything
the rehabilitation of anything
the rejuvenation of anything
could be a task not simple
modification not easy
a hard one being laborious
being done in a manner religious
a discipline in a purview
needs a skill and a mind
as broad as a canvas
willing to hold any views
an expression of boldness
great and tall in a call.
The fusion as it is
the combination of two
an amalgamation of much more
could be a bliss all the more.
The fusion of music
instrumental one
the flute, violin, and veena
a musical delight in real.
The flute in high octaves
the violin, a medium note
veena plays the base
the union extends a melody.
The fine tunes that arise
fuse together seamlessly
the notes blend beautifully
we hear a music divine.
Nothing is out of tempo
everything under control
being one of a great combination
commands a lovely deliverance.
The three-hour recital as such
held the audience spellbound
pin drop silence marked the event
followed by a standing ovation.
No way to escape
fastened by a rope
gagged by a towel
strangled as well
hands knotted together
eyes tied tightly
legs bound by iron
the body pinned to a stake
a piteous context
the dagger over the head
a dire consequence
a hideous move
horrendous it looks
no way to escape.
Forever I see the goal
forever I do not reach it
forever I try to grasp it.
forever I miss the goal.
Elusive is the goal
unreachable it is
unattainable it is
unachievable is the goal.
I gaze at the goal
deliberate to catch it
not once but many a time
never able to reach the goal.
Setting a target as a goal
a trial
is to attain
relax the target a little
easy to reach the goal
There are prayers
wishing both good and bad
positive and negative
An eye reflects
animosity and love as well
the human mirror
A noise loud
could be from anything bound
towards or outwards.
Meenas Poems 