Meenas Poems
Heard a shriek across the road,
A girl was knocked down by a car,
The driver dashed her down,
Then sped like a whirlwind.
The girl lay in a pool of blood.
Moaning in pain with half closed eyes.
A stranger made way through the crowd,
Lifted the half dead girl to his vehicle,
Off he went to the hospital,
She was saved in a few hours .
A man like the first lives in this world.
Another man like the second lives too.
inlays and designs are embellishments in art.
They expose a fabulous creativity
Pillars and portraits excel in intrinsic style.
They look gorgeous with beautiful inlays.
Frills and frescoes are blemish in talk.
They broadcast an artificial snobbery.
Talk and eloquence depict an ingenuity.
They sound bombastic with loud exaggerations.
Delicate inlays are lovely designs.
They enumerate the artisan’s profound skill.
They are a gorgeous treat to the eyes.
Lending an exuberance to architecture.
Clandestine frills are negative designs.
They promote an added incredibility.
They lie heavily on the audience patience.
Extending a superficiality to the oration.
The inlays and frills are deciphered diferently
.
Rendering an impressive perception to the structural ambience,
Offering an artificial indulgence to the oral narration.
Well! that is how the presentation carries across.
A smile is a smile to me,
it is an expression of happiness,
It looks so to me,
See beyond it,say many
There would be a tinge of joy,
There would be a trace of melancholy,
it would bear an outline of anger,
it would conceal a violent temper,
it would camouflage ignorance,
it would also hide a vengeance,
If that is so, I feel,
the smile is no longer a smile.
Mobile phone is called as cell phone in some parts of the world,
Cell phone is referred as hand phone in other parts of the world,
It is a phone lying unattended somewhere in my world
Mobile phones have made great strides recently,
Everyone has it even during his ride definitely,
Exposing his life to a an alarming danger certainly.
People can reach us wherever we are is a plus
They can trouble us from wherever they are is a minus,
Keep us posted of wanted and unwanted news is a trespass.
All said and done to me, far from being useful it is just handy ,
All for the matter to me it is expensive but small and funny,
All the much so to me it is a gadget that remains a mystery.
Do I really need a mobile is my call?
Ma ,you should possess one is my boys call,
I do not need one as I rarely move out is my call.
Factually,my life is a movement from one room to another,
I never venture out of my home at any cost how so ever,
A mobile is an unnecessary to a home bird like me all so ever.
I do own a mobile,I know not for what,
I placed it in my cupboard from the day I bought,
It rings and dies with no attention brought.
Colours give a fantastic splash,
Red, they say is a sign of danger,
It goes with fire and blood,
it also aligns with anger,
It is sometimes eye-catching,
With an association of shades,
A lighter red is most attractive,
Elucidating a charm and desire,
Warming up to a cordiality,
Indicating a significant good will,
Well ,this is how we could talk of other colours too.
It is a comma that brings about a suspense
It is a hyphen that links one another in a sense.
It is a semicolon that gives two 
separate ideas in an attribution.
It is a colon that makes us wait for more revelations.
It is a question mark that allows us to reason.
It is the exclamation that points to joy and sadness according to season.
It is within inverted commas we quote others which enliven.
It is between the brackets additional information is given.
It is the full stop that puts an end to writing.
In life we encounter many struggles and setbacks,
Knowingly or unknowingly we align with one another in the track.
Our alliance might evolve a relationship good or bad.
In course of time we would be subjected to turmoil sad.
The reasoning mind would look with suspicion.
The joy or sorrow would keep us in tension.
We seek the advice of experienced men.
Bracketing with others we pull on like a hen.
At last we get into the grave never to wake again.
Burning the midnight candle,
the girl was reading aloud,
memorizing the portions,
with or without understanding,
as on tomorrow she writes the examination,
it is a three-hour ordeal,
that sets her career,
the marks she scores,
would lead her in life,
well, it is the marks ,
that call for attention,
it is not the comprehension,
that shapes her future,
it might sound natural to all,
to me it is avidly alien,
it sounds incorrigible and unpleasant,
it tastes exclusively bitter,
it is the way of life, they quoth
anything other is an anachronism,they feel,
so, I stand out: an odd woman out.
There was a huff and a puff,
There was a loud jarring cough,
There was a heavy sneeze,
A smoke was seen through the trees.
The fire was ignited to burn rubbish,
It lay all around in big heaps,
The fumes butted out in a fleece,
It spoilt the environment’s peace.
It choked the young and old alike,
The lungs had to perform a strike,
Working with wheezing and halted breath,
Struggling amidst the spasmodic hearth.
People go about their own way,
Spoiling the habitation in a quick sway,
Inflicting the population with a deal,
Far more criminal than steal.
The sun shines fiery red,
The sky is sparkling bright,
It is a dazzling sight.
The temperature rises high,
The heat makes us sigh,
Forcing us to utter a cry.
The sun becomes fierce,
The redness turns vitreous.
It evolves a lot of fears.
The trees are cut,
The flow of water is shut,
The land turns into a rut.
It is an ominous portraiture,
It is a neglect of nature,
It is an environmental disaster.
There is no retributive action,
Summits are arranged for discussions,
Involving expenses in large proportions.
Leaders fly across the world,
Talk long with eloquence gold,
Return with no solution bold.
Years go in speed,
Yet there is no lead,
To sort out the bleed.
I observe in silence,
I hear in magnitude,
I see in-depth,
That is what I can do.
A child begins her day,
Setting aside everything gay,
Pushing back all her play,
Switching on to the rigorous fray.
She gets ready in a hurry,
Breaks her fast in a flurry,
Casting her likes in a bury,
She walks up in a slurry.
Still sleep lingers in her eyes,
As she opens her reader to a size,
Pouring over the book in a guise,
She follows the teacher with a despise.
From school she comes home,
Falls asleep in her cosy bedroom,
The little girl finds no time to bloom,
Eventually she has to face the doom.
Meenas Poems 