Meenas PoemsThe red ribbon
flies at a height unsurpassable
potential danger.
The blue ribbon
is seen at a moderate level
plausible goodwill.
The yellow ribbon
waves with a warmth
brings in happiness
The white ribbon
flutters in a mild manner
proposes peace.
The twenty-five coconut trees in my garden
have grown so tall looks as though they reach the sky
bear twenty to 30 coconuts every 40 days
a great joy to watch the harvest.
The kothanar (mason) as the harvester is addressed
climbs with perfection and style
he falters not in any way
reaches the top in no time.
He tucks the aruval (sickle) in his waist
cleans the web that surrounds 
cuts the dried fronds that hamper growth
releases the tree from unwanted entanglements.
He knocks on the cluster of coconuts
finds out the appropriate ones
slashes the one which holds
the coconuts fall down in tens.
A fascination to watch
eloquent and awesome
my eyes stay fixed to the trees
while I count 1,2,3
As a man dies
the spirited soul flies
the body remains.
While on mourn one hears
talks of his achievements
whispers of his faults.
Days pass a reversal is found
contempt spreads at large
tales of his defects abound.
The tongue wags
waxes many a story
wanes even more.
A sound unheard
khe, khe, ko.
A step so loud
thud, thud.
A breath heavy
whiz,whiz
caused a fear
as the heart jumped out
and the eyes protruded
a sensitive theme
one of unknown horror
thought to let it go
impossible it seemed
a mysterious experience
unable to unravel.
Through the skin
sweat percolates
as dew
Back and forth
movement is
proportionate.
Dehydration
initiates
invalidity.
A recovery
is seen
on the anvil.
Death stares
through
the hedge.
Tuft of grass
dances merrily in the breeze
initiates a liveliness
Workshopping the poems
destroys the originality
the flow is thwarted
a strained read
never be the best poem.
The incessant
message tone
the only sound
heard at times
in the night
feel a shudder
unwilling to stop
it continues
with a vibration
at intervals
has become
a constant
companion
through
daylight and
darkness.
The one chugs
regurgitates,heaves and sighs
age old train.
No water in the ground.
No fertility in the ground.
No cultivation in the ground.
No produce from the ground.
No taste in the produce.
No strength in the body.
No resistance anymore
No prosperity in the town.
No peace in the world.
Meenas Poems 