Meenas Poems
Falling down causes a hurt,
Skidding leads to a hurt,
Seeing daggers imposes a hurt,
Speaking sharp proposes a hurt,
Attitude indifferent brings out a hurt,
Physical wound is a tolerable hurt,
Abstract outrage is an unbearable hurt.
As accidents are causes for hurts,
Evil breaks up lot of hurts,
The body staggers with a hurt,
It loses its power along with a hurt,
The mind succumbs to the hurt,
It desperately slides down with the hurt,
This is the most diabolical of all hurts.
Days go without power,
Nights go without power,
The people who are in power,
Get drunk with power,
Robbing those who vote them to power,
Making them live without power,
That can mean electrical power,
And can also refer to money power,
People in power become powerful,
People who vote for them become powerless.
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Schools are production houses akin to industries
They are into manufacturing process with diligence,
Children are spun into yarn without any thick and thin,
Then woven into weft and warp without any fault,
Finally they find their light more or less like a cloth
Schools are into intense competition,
Learning by rote is the only assumption,
Reading becomes a mere automatic application,
Writing takes the form of just copying,
Comprehension is nowhere to be found.
Children perform under pressure,
Losing their childhood in the course,
Scores usurp the central place,
Assimilation takes the back seat,
It is a mechanical mess up.
Tests and exams are predominant,
High grades are the goal of the parents,
Streams of examinations besiege the young mind,
Abandoning them into a cess pool of valuation,
Dooming them to a world of professionalism.
Each child has a liking of its own,
Each one can live his life only once,
Robbing them of their play and leisure,
Compelling them to forsake their ambition,
Is a dreaded sin than any other.
Schools with excessive achievements,
Steal the show and grab the status,
Their demands make us fall back,
The education imparted is no way fabulous,
Yet we find a long queue waiting in their gates.
Two and a half-year old has to take a test,
Parents have to attend interviews,
Those who are supposed to be in the cradle,
Come out to face the stern teachers,
The sweet smile converts itself to a loud cry.
Oh! what a cruelty the children undergo,
Where are you Blue cross and Red cross?
Taking care of animals is humanitarian,
How do you miss the plight of the toddlers?
Could you not do anything to save them?
Years ago children loved school,
it was another home to them,
Learning was never cumbersome,
It rendered a development wholesome.
Children learnt with ease,
Numbers were easily mastered,
Letters were finely read,
Everything went directly to the head.
Learning was both study and play,
Simple practices enabled counting
Carry over was established in adding,
Take away was used in subtracting.
Language became a felicitous facility,
Grammar opened up the intricacies,
Usage delivered the delicacies,
Communication became relevancies.
It was an enjoyable experience,
The teacher and taught worked together,
There was no pressure or ill feeling rather,
It was a perfect harmony altogether.
Panic fills the mind,
Depression sets fine,
Disappointment is the new find,
What more is in line?
Squeaks the voice from the hind.
Many more are on the way,
Much more would cross,
Wait for the eventual sway,
A prediction is there for a furthermore loss,
Warns the forecast of the day.
A sleep over is the trick at hand,
Let everything pass in a slow motion.
Watch the turmoil from a distant stand,
Show no rush to reach the destination,
Prompts the theory of a reputed brand.
Deferring the decisions to a period late,
Might look as a procrastination sure,
It is time required to seal the fate,
A reprieve needed to think and endure,
Confesses a solution provider in a voice great.
It is a feeble noise soft and shrill
It is something of a sob from afar,
It evokes a sensation of chill,
Keeping us in cold so far.
It is a cry of a child a little away,
The little one must be in unbearable pain,
It is an uneasiness which she cannot say,
She sheds tears like an incessant rain.
The mother could not calm her down,
She did what she could in full fast,
The child continued to cry in a drone,
Making everyone sad in aghast.
It went like that for a short duration,
The child then gradually stopped wailing,
The mother fed her on and off without affectation,
The child then dozed off in a smooth sailing.
The mother then breaks down uncontrollably,
Slides down the aisle suppressing her fears,
Holding the little one to her bosom closely,
She sings a lullaby brushing aside her tears.
It is a road less traversed,
Take it with a dare,
Get ahead of others if you can,
The rest will follow .
It is a thought out of box,
Work it out with a grasp,
Give it a distinct frame if you can,
The rest will follow.
It is a peculiar choice,
Deign it with a confidence,
Give it a beautiful look if you can,
The rest will follow.
It is a special course,
Choose it with a desire,
Give it a progressive outlook if you can ,
The rest will follow.
The traditional insight is great,
It also renders a monotonous cheer,
Try to change it carefully if you can.
The rest will follow.
A lane bustles with activities,
People move up and down,
Transactions are going in high speed,
The lights go off at regular intervals,
There is a hush,
This happens often,
In the morning it is warm,
At dusk it is dark,
Yet, business is done.
Proving that nothing is indispensable.
The talk of money makes me giggle,
Billions and millions and hundreds wriggle,
Like ants on the sandy ground trouble.
Going up and going down in a wobble
The talk of money makes me apprehensive,
The relevance to it is effectively reflective,
The legitimacy of currency is abusive,
Creating an unpleasantness effusive.
The talk of money is all-pervasive,
Serving and seducing in a way contributive,
Striking the bonds in a sequence effective,
Forcing a disenchantment repulsive.
The talk of money makes me plaintive,
The value of other skills become diminutive,
The love for money acquires a directive,
Shadowing other validities to a defective.
Smile is a weapon many know not,
It is a defence many know not,
It may be dubious many know not,
It may be ambiguous many know not,
It may be coy many know not,
It may hide sadness many know not,
It may be forced many know not,
It may be a retort many know not,
It may be jittery many know not,
It may fool at times many know not,
It may be romance many know not,
Yet smile radiates a genial feel which all know.
Meenas Poems 