A verse great
does not have a rate
commends beyond date.
Author: meenas17
A lover of classical Carnatic music.
An avid reader, passionate writer, into stocks and investments for livelihood
Categories
Grandma Calls.
Slept I like a log
a while forgot my blog
a peaceful sleep it was
nothing to disturb at any cause
hours went by in length
came a call with strength
was about to wake up
when a hand-held me .
I saw a woman in her mid fifties
smiled she with love
caressed my hair with care
felt she had a piece to share.
She called me by name
I looked so tame
wondered how did she know
a woman from many decades ago.
With a graceful move in all sides
asked what made me talk about her
more frequent these couple of days
is there any reference of case?
I blinked all the more in a quandary
said she with poise she is my grandmother
who passed away sixty-seven years back
few months before my mother’s wedding.
Startled I sat up with a shock
said she not to panic at all
in a very soft tone told me her life
when she was a devoted wife
a mother of five children
sacrificed everything for their welfare
yet not remembered by any of them
during their life time all the more.
They became the shadow of their father
great was he in his achievements rather
they knew that she was the woman behind
yet not commemorated her in trend
she did not bother about fame in life
she yearned for a reciprocal slight
Is it an unusual demand? she interrogated.
not at all grandma, I meekly replied.
My children are dead and gone
your mother was the last to go
You sing about me very late
I read your poems about me
they made me happy and sad
wanted to pay a visit to you
to offer a big thank-you.
I held her hands with reverence
apologiz
ed for my late impasse
somehow I told her these two days
her memory crossed me all the way
set the recollections in a canvas
the best one would be in my blog
the private area where I log.
Well, this would circulate through
let my cousins read through
my nieces and nephews understand
the woman who was both pleasant and stoic
realize the suffering she endured all her life
physical ailment was not well attended to
leave alone the agony of the mind .
Where are you? I whimper
I am to my place you answer
say you with a shine in your eyes
at least I remain vague in your memory
you who have not seen me at all
retain a trace of my memory
with that satisfaction I fly back
my blessings always unto you.
Categories
The Way It Goes.
Obsessed by thoughts
mostly of my ancestors
more of my grandmother
on the maternal side
these two days I dwell
gathering the anecdotes
told by mother in my teenage
a kind woman she was
short in stature
tall in thoughts
patient and stoic was she
been so quick in handling with tact.
The time of the inauguration
of her husband’s first spinning mill
which was the seed of his industrial empire
her two –
year old son died
she kept it within herself
never cried or broke down
lest her husband would be distracted
held the child in her arms
close to her bosom tight
the man came home stood there she sullen
with a warm smile all the more
relaxed he with a cup of tea
shared her grief with him
on one side was his commercial gain
on the other was his personal loss
prosperity and tragedy coincided
the wife who stood the test of times
did not stay long on earth
to see his rise and wealth
Well, that be the irony of the day
a paradox of the nuptials in stroke
comes to my mind the words
they also serve who stand and wait.
Categories
Honour her
Unnoticed she lived
Undermined was her gentle nobility
unsung she died.
Quiet she was
Quizzed not she with buoyancy
Quarreled with none.
Lived beyond era
Lively and wise in tone
Legend not known.
Mother of five
modest and pragmatic in approach
mercenary never in thoughts.
Raised the five
rendered all bounties she could
restricted them not.
Liberty she granted
liberal she was with all
languish she not.
Husband so tall
heights he reached with struggle
her hands behind.
A humble soul
alienated by the life’s toll
away she went .
Her life tells
hinder not anybody even for play
heinous would it be.
Sung none about her
Strong she was all the more
Sense dominated her.
Categories
My Grandmother
It is not a story
nor a tale fairy
a dedicated life
of a devoted wife
silent into the spree
never was free
always under the husband
never thought of any refund
with him in his achievements
quiet was her involvement
the man rode to success
she was away from access
honoured he in his life time
remained she unseen
died she unknown
into the glory all too soon.
Categories
Thrown Away
I sit a long way away
my children in continents
not the same but different
not in the same hemisphere
one in the north up above
the other in the south down below
the third one in the center
and I a little further towards east
all of us thrown all over the world
seems interesting in a way
never too easy to move about
pangs of separation haunts most
should have visa to see each other
what a life I am into in a stroke
I bemoan and curse myself
the world has become global
the travel still holds tight
regulations takes the toll
commercials find their way
humanity remains stranded.
The dull weather around
little sun and little warmth
very sultry at times
humid all through
calls for a walk around
Walk to the aisle
stand there for a moment
look across the garden
that seems duller still
leaves droop and grass dry.
Return to the patio
sit there with a book
peruse the pages
they appear dullest of all
push the book away .
Lie down on the bed
eyes stuck to the roof
a picture traverses the mind
very prosaic and uninteresting
slumber escapes in a way.
The dull I say
abounds and overwhelms
sadness descends slowly
know not why it happens?
an uneasiness prevails all day.
Categories
The Coconut.
The coconuts from the garden
small they have become
gone without water be the reason
rains have deceived in all seasons
the nuts look dry and parched
exceed in numbers though
starved they seem 
on the exterior
the inside looks great with cheer
butter like slippery substance
lies there almost in most
hold little water sweet
the tender sleeves are tasty
lovely to bite with ease
like to say like Keats
all things small are beautiful
Categories
A Fall Out.
Planned a day out
the thought was out
came there a fall out
at home throughout.
It has been a long time
my tree yielded fruits
they be yellow in a way
not very bright nor dull
a chaste colour on the skin
round they were in shape
neither too big nor too small
a pictorial effect they released
the yellow on the green background
the tree not so tall and big
modest and stylish on the twig
the lemon has such fragrance
filled the air with a flair
reluctant to pluck them asunder
stood there almost in a trance
if left on the tree all the more
would dry up and fall down
there be no use whatsoever
took them in the basket
caressed them with love altogether
soon they would be squeezes for juice
cut into halves and fours for pickle
the skin would lay in the trash
years ago the cut pieces of the skin
lay in the sun for days together.
powdered and sieved by my mother
used in daily bath instead of soap
a nourisher to skin lending a glow
a cleanser to the hair
turning it bright and glowing
Well, I have strayed away
from the tree to the powder
that be my way all these days
from one to other I jump
not focused and never attentive
to the script and to the points
What, a being I am !
Meenas Poems 