All posts by meenas17

About meenas17

A lover of classical Carnatic music. An avid reader, passionate writer, into stocks and investments for livelihood

Shiva, Micro and Macro

A critic to the end,
Shiva, identifies the flaws
improves, exalts,
rocks royal.

His emphasis,
on the negative part
that being minor,
enlarges the micro. to macro.

Responds with an ego
indulges with a gusto
chuckles with mischief’
as if he is the lord.

Shiva reacts
with a disdai,
Exasperating most times,
annoying as well.









Mona -An Enigma

“God be with me,”
Mona exclaims. A moan rather.

Pensive and sobe,r always
she looks distraught at present.

“What could have gone wrong?”
I wonder.

“Could be anything personal?
could there be an impending danger?”

Looking at her, I could not decide.
Distress engulfs.

I watch every move of her.
She is an enigma.

Mona stares at me.
An empty one!

We sit in silence.



The Truce

The swans, no longer found,
seen in a picture,
the one turns against the other,
one looks north
the other faces the southern,
appear to be in love
but have quarreled of late
need someone to mediate
the ego prevents them to agree
such that a truce is impossible.

They move afar,
each not looking at another
swim in the waters
the cold weather makes them tremble,
require an embrace and a hug
the male looks back
at the same time the female swings
their eyes meet.

They swim towards.




The Socio Economic Being

Living a socio economic life
bound by time and relations
where the self sinks into oblivion-
a task of untold struggle.

Even to smile, one has to be cautious,
needless to say, crying is looked down.
An uncomfortable placement it appears,
a schedule of unheard cynicism.

The better part of existence is governed,
by commitments unknown and unexpected,
well, that way one moves on,
through a scheme of unpredictable agendas.

The life is short, never know when it closes
one has to pull on through vibes and wisdom.
A strange coincidence of favour and inheritance
make you what you are and who you are.


Caterpillar Into A Butterfly

The caterpillar
wriggles,on the ground,
an awkward style.

The stripes on him
look bold and big
not much to the liking.

He grows. Turns
beautiful overnight.
Attractive in ways.

The crawl becomes
a hop, then a fly
He takes on his wings.

The butterfly as seen
sucks the nectar
from the blossoms,

The colours on his wings
fascinate. The grace




The Pages Turn

a flip and a flap
noisy it is.

I press hard.
Keep a weight over them,
heavy as much.

The flutter stops.
I pursue with the task,
concentrating at length.

The door bell rings.
Disturbance again.
I have to answer.

I walk towards the door .
Happy to receive my old friend.


Return to work
Remove the weight,
in a haste. The pages fly.
Rush to gather them.

The iPad crashes.
It shatters
so does my work.




Those of Grace

Scaling the heights,
literal and metaphorical
no wonder, encharm
and enhance.

Honours, excellence ,
make one proud
no wonder, shine
and evolve.

Priced possessions,
treasures, beauty,
no wonder, extend
and exalt.

Over and above
integrity and trust
no wonder, qualify
and glorify.


The Predicament

In certain predicament,
I sit on the pouff,
in a haste. It moves.
I fall flat.

Gather myself, straighten.
Walk in a pace. I stumble.
The right leg stretches.
I am hurt.

Pull myself together,
“Careful” I tell myself.
I climb down the steps.
Something trips. I fly.

Wish I could remain in one place.
Never I could be. A caution,
perhaps.  Significant,
I catch the point.

“Stay where you are”.A voice from behind.

Might be my mother’s,  long, long ago.



The Sojourn

Flying non stop
for fourteen hours,
is a drain and a strain.
legs ache,the hip pleads.

I stand, pause, sit
shift the legs, the cramp
turns unbearable.Ouch!
the muscles stiffen.

I fall asleep, awake as the
plane bumps, my head
knocks against the one who sits nearby.
The pain is beyond.

He frowns and mumbles.
looks daggers. I apoligise.
The eyelids close, whilst
my head wobbles

The annoyed neighbour
pushes the head and I
wake up in the jolt. He screams.

Is it so painful? I dare not ask.

Ashamed I sit tight
in the jam packed row
All eyes are on me,
I feel belittled.

Again sleep overtakes
I try to resist, but slumber
gets the better of me
and I doze.

I open my eyes in the middle,
look at my neighbour.
His head slumps
against my shoulder.

He is tired also, I tell myself.