Likewise, it has been so
all the more in the go
edgewise it happens to be so
could come with a blow
energise with a flow
could you say no
digitalise with a know
as on with a toe
the device turns on in slow
finally switches on with a glow.
Author: meenas17
A lover of classical Carnatic music.
An avid reader, passionate writer, into stocks and investments for livelihood
It is a different day
that too of all the days
could be today
might be yesterday
a day before yesterday
a day after of all days
as I feel all days
assign to varied ways
they pass with a grace
each one has no trace
they seem to phase
come and strike the face
well, that is how it is in a chase
forces everyone to race
keeps them mostly in a daze
while the nights are in a haze
the sun rises with its bright rays
more or less it happens in all places.
Life seems to be full
roses and dahlias in all
beautiful so far and long
thorns exist no wrong.
Life seems to be full
apples and oranges in all
sweet so far and long
bitterness found no wrong.
Life seems to be full
incidents and happenings in all
genuine so far and long
deceit is seen through nothing wrong.
That be life in full
sweet and sour in all
sincere and insincere so far and long
elusive perhaps nothing wrong.
Life mixes and churns
go on and off without a burn
should we not turn?
nay, let us learn.
Life teaches in a song
the good and bad for long
pay attention with a hope
endurance is the scope.
The reach is too high
perched upon the sky
yet attempt, a try
not with a shy
could see the looks sly
cast around with a pry
ignore says the mind
hesitates the heart in a bind
the mind overcomes with a find
treachery halts one to a grind
shun it and go ahead in the stride.
Five days in a week
I go without a sneak
two more days of the week
make me sneak.
I sniff and smell a lot
nothing much to give a thought
I go about in a sort
casting on the way, not a doubt.
The seven days pass as such
I move about in a stretch
I cross the length and breadth
almost with great strength.
Years have rolled on as well
the clocks continue to strike the bell
noise has rocked like hell
as I look at my life through a shell.
The gender divides
a man from a woman
he is set to be powerful
invasive and extensive
she is designed to be fragile
internally and externally
a ruggedness is seen in him
as many sport with a moustache
a voice so gruff and firm
make him a strong personality
lack all these the woman
with a fairness in skin
soft and small in build
speaks low and with charm
turn her into a weak being in all.
Born as a girl in the Indian families
controlled by the male throughout
initially the father with authority
along with the brothers in force
she crosses her childhood
and girlhood in fear almost
eyes flutter and her heart trembles
if she sees a stranger in front
learns with a diligence
as her brothers flaunt and spoil
achieves a lot academically
excels in extracurricular as well
yet lives in the shadow
where the patriarchal element dominates.
Out of her college she enters life different
seeks a job in all earnest
the family is otherwise busy
hunts for a prospective alliance
soon they check the most competitive
rush her to the wedlock
before she could breathe independently
another tie up being for the whole life
comes into existence quite easily
she succumbs to the new ways
in the milieu loses herself all too quick.
The wedding and after is another milestone
she has to bear the yoke nonchalantly
with patience utmost and endurance exact
her head has to nod up and down
no matter what be the circumstance
as the right to left move is forbidden
lives she like a rock hit by many a tide
rash and harsh most times
pleasant and slow on occasions
her hair grows grey as the years advance
looks she different with a spectacle
that dances on the tip of her nose
her memory goes down the lane
as she wraps the saree around her shoulders.
The woman you see now is emancipated or strong
empowered or employed as could be
this be her version all too much the same
might be with a slight variation
be she a working woman or a household dame
being one of a little care to the apparent appearance
the one with a job has to dress up well
drape a starched saree around and clothes ironed
while her counterpart one who stays at home
pays less attention in her dress
wears anything that comes to her hand
matching or matchless never her concern
she ties her air into a tiny knot
tucks her saree a little up
not to disturb her in the activities
moves about with a mindless stroll
her look out primarily being her children
and to an extent her husband
who incidentally wields a power
with an air of supremacy in square
know not from where it comes.
The case being so even in the latest days
how could a female expect an equality
how could she override the male
be her father, brother, husband
could be her son also in the future
who emerges from her and rises above her
the qualification being a man all the more
nothing other than
could out beat her
could ride past her even in a close shave
intelligence, tact and skill, virtuosity
never could she be outsmarted
but unfortunately, she is bent
and compelled to bite the dust.
“I’m blogging for the India Today Woman Summit 2015 #WomenPower activity at BlogAdda.”
It is a shot
not from the gun
did you imagine so?
nay not, my dear.
It is venom
not from the python
did you imagine so?
nay not, my dear.
It is a terrible bite
not by the dog
did you imagine so?
nay not, my dear.
It is an evil look
almost from the blood-related
did not you imagine so?
why not, my dear?
Looks hurt much
more than the guns
much more than venom
up and above the dog bite.
The scar the eyes inflict
goes deep beyond layers
tears and rips apart, my dear
sucks the life out beyond imagination
Categories
The Migration
Far away from the roots
away from the origin
one finds a desolation
a sort of disillusion
yet man is restless
moves from one place to another
from one region to the other
mindless of his difficulties
the desire to earn is all the more
suppresses the other fancies even so
he migrates across with a will
succeed he might in the course
nevertheless loses his identity
I might sound orthodox on the go
the feel I have towards it is so
might be wrong on the premise
for me it proves to be amiss
well. that be the individual idea
I am too far from the modern world
primitive as a relic all too much in style
nor I propose to impose my ideas
or strike with a force on the convention
each one has his say in the world
my voice is one from the wilderness
mostly goes unheard with no effect
yet I express my feel with a gusto
agnostic 
might be to most.
it is but the truth in real
While man runs for life
fearing war and unrest
the fellow men push him to corners
knows not he where to run
blindfolded he skips and hops
trails and falls down
imperfectly he rises up
not looks back at all
brushes aside his tears
moves on aimlessly
through hills and oceans
against odd weathers
with his children and wife
pulling together his belongings few
very little to eat and drink
he moves on to find a roof
where he could rest his head down
under a shelter in the warmth
his cold hands yearn for mercy
his eyes rove about in a frenzy
at last he espies a kindly face
treads slowly towards the light
not anyway artificial but wholly genuine
clasps the hand that bids him close
nestles over the shoulders in relief
walks behind him like a lamb
docile and demure enfolded securely.
Has he found a safe haven?
God alone knows.
Categories
The German Gesture
Germany throws open the doors
the migrants cross the floors
the compassion shown is touching
the love displayed is refreshing
makes one feel and believe
the German gesture gives a relief
kindness is still alive beyond any limit
well, that in short is the human spirit.
Meenas Poems 