Meenas PoemsThe sun has set
It is curtains.
A year -2016
has gone to sleep.
Closed are the happy events
along with the sad ones.
They will fade from memory
It is a routine.A monotony.
Another year dawns.
Would hold both mirth and sorrow.
Host celebrations and disaster.
Will then sink into oblivion.
Cries of joy reach the sky.
Crackers explode. An illumination
endears. Hope resumes.
That be with you. Happy 2017
Passing of,
whoever it might be,
whatever it may be,
seems to be seamless.
The old days die
the new era dawns
with an ease
a felicity appealing.
The seniors disappear.
The young take over.
Have no grudge or hesitation
at the brink. A smooth change.
The world revolves.
Tireless in its rotation.
No, stop or fall at the helm.
Moves without prejudice.
It is the Universal Law.
Joy and sorrow are abstract.
The virtual is not to be depended on.
The real that matters.
Anything can happen
under the sun.
Looting is licensed.
Atrocity is official
Power from the unknown source
dominates. Incredible, though.
Called as Politics.
I am in two minds
says Joseph.
Unable to decide
he bemoans
He has two faces
tells Mary.
One that solicits
while the other resists.
Think twice
commands Jesus.
Be patient and tolerant.
Speaks the Lord.
The twos in a row
make up the resolutions.
A strong union of love and kindness
brings forth cheer and grace.
Another year is born.
Hopes abound
Thoughts soar.
Birth is always beautiful.
A stare not friendly
hit me hard
not once but many a time.
Even after many days
I have a feel that the eyes
follow me wherever I go.
They do not disappear
but remain stuck.
Lets me not with ease.
Eyes hit you hard,
strike you with horror. They are
harsher than physical violence
Beware of such evil eyes.
Might sound a superstition.
Virtually they are dangerous.
Saw a community
rather a section of people
who were courteous and affable
with a smile writ large,
The face displayed a cordiality
The eyes did not reflect likewise but,
expressed a scorn and disdain
which lay beneath concealed.
Witnessed their exchanges in keen.
The camouflage was felt intermittent.
The celebration was a mere performance
where the ill will be suppressed by feigned goodwill.
Unable to comprehend I watched the show
with an amusement to an extent but,
with more of a bewilderment.
Perhaps, I am the one different from the crowd.
Sometimes my thoughts go dry.
I write not anything for days.
A momentum picks up for a while
then dies down in an unnatural style.
I write a few poems in the duration
celebrating certain occasions.
My pen loses its power.
I turn pensive under a cover.
So go my days all the more.
I gaze for long from the shore.
Meenas Poems 