A little of myself
I see around
in my garden.
Wane and weary.
The lush lawn
resembles a muddy patch
with thorns and thistles.
The Coconut trees
resemble a barren woman,
So much about the mangoes,
gooseberries, jamuns
even the curry leaves
reflect the pallor.
Thirstily my trees and I
wait for the monsoon,
dry mouthed.
Sense a chill
when I think of the
rains last season.
They poured heavy
inundating the fields
made way into the
dwellings.Thousands
marooned, rendered
homeless and
few hundreds died.
Destruction of all means.
being double edged,
both from excess
and from inadequacy.
Fire chars.Water gobbles
Incensing nature
by our mindless means.
Ponds and water bodies
are plotted sold, where
houses stand majestic.
Canals and Channels
are closed, creating
severe blockages.
Whom to blame?
Should we welcome
monsoon? I ask
My exasperated trees
condescend an answer
after long deliberation.
not verbally as I thought
by pouting, turn a sarcasm.
mocking humanity.
Meenas Poems 