Meenas Poems
It was a terrible start.
As everything has fallen apart.
The scenario created a dart.
How to outsmart ?
The sequence is difficult to impart.
Should the horse go before the cart?
The mind is swirling in a dizzy thwart.
A numbed pain presses the heart.
What you said is bad ! Says the man
Your ways are always bad adds the man.
You have entrapped the family shouts the man.
It has been so all these years screams the man.
It is my fate to listen to such invalid talks thinks the woman
It is the reward I get for my sacrifice bemoans the woman.
It is a thankless job admits the woman.
“I have to pull along against odds “sobs the woman
She has been hearing all these for years together.
She has endured it for the sake of her children altogether.
She breaks down hopelessly when she hears the same from one of them rather.
True! Women are faceless slaves in a way I gather.
Age calls for attention.
There is less tension,
but more apprehension
commanding a revision,
controlling a deviation,
bringing in appreciation,
reviewing combinations,
assigning permutations,
accepting confrontations,
announcing celebrations,
expecting an invitation,
to depart.
Birthdays are for kids many affirm.
Weddings bind two people say
Sixtieth celebrations are for the middle-aged nowadays
Eightieth function are for the old mostly .
Cenetenary are for the lucky few.
Every one irrespective of age indulge in ostentation nowadays
Functions come one after another compelling attendance,
They demand presentations and gifts
They enforce hours of chit chatting,
Thus inviting more trouble than cordiality,
When would all these become a private affair?
When would all these attain an austerity?
When would people learn?
Kate sat brooding on the porch.
It was not her usual put forth.
Her thought was always of growth.
At the moment her look was towards north.
Kate was moved to the most.
Her mind was totally lost.
Her thoughts were in a deep frost.
She sat silent like a ghost.
It is an obsession that has seized her.
Perhaps a setback that has defaced her.
Fatigue has overtaken her.
She looked haunted more so ever.
She has to take the thought out of mind.
She has to keep the discomfiture in the hind.
Nevertheless it is a mind-blowing bind.
The moment she forgets she would clinch a find.
Kate seemed to see reason behind it.
She rose up with a splendid hit.
She resolved to push the struggle to the down pit.
Now she would certainly clinch it.
It is a likelihood of proximity.
Might be a fallacy of divinity.
Calling for an immediate spontaneity.
Preceded by a tantalising agitation.
Followed by a vigorous affectation.
Spurred by a disoriented infusion.
The eyes wink in a speedy flutter.
The lips move in a strange clatter.
Words surge in and out in fine chatter.
The crowd throngs in a feverish momentum.
Eager to listen to the frenzied dictum.
Holding their breath they await the referendum.
Gradually the letters decipher into an ultimatum.
The words are strung to form a verbatim.
The wordy garland carries a prediction of events.
It is impregnate with a content.
The belief is beyond admission.
Well, it is an individual decision.
Going by it is a blind faith.
It is obviously a myth.
Yet, it has an arterial appeal.
It penetrates through the circulation.
Insinuating a deep perpetuation.
They conjoin
the mind and body in integration.
It is an experience thrilling, no doubt
Yet, it lacks an authenticity in stout.
She lies in the bed with eyes wide open.
She lies there still but not for fun.
She lies motionless for hours in the run.
The Sun’s rays falls sharply on her eyes.
She lies frozen like a solid ice.
Is she real or a guise?
The noise around her is loud.
She lies undisturbed by the cloud.
She belies the spirit of the surround.
The day fades to a starry night.
She lies almost tight.
She presents an alarming sight.
The night sets in silently.
She makes no move relevantly.
Her posture calls for action immediately.
She rises from her bed in a sudden.
Smothers her dress of its crampled trend.
Walks up the aisle with hair done.
She leans over the rails.
She looks at the night’s trails.
She fathoms the dark sail.
She watches the vessel move.
She shuts her eyes in a disapprove.
Alas! her soul is entrapped in the groove.
Wandering physically is a threat to me,
Moving from home is disagreeable to me,
Putting things in a bag is a distraction to me,
Exiting from the vibrancy of the house is impractical to me.
Well, that may be the case for my physical activity,
I get ahead in great acceleration with my mind in totality,
It travels through all spheres in fine dexterity,
Crossing countries and continents in high velocity.
Alighting on the wings of fantasy my mind flies,
Goes as far as the fourteenth century events in tries,
Gleefully transcends in the realm in short strides.
Galloping as fast as it could as likely as the horse rides.
Lying in comfort, I visualise the Great Barrier reef in its glory,
Sitting in the patio, I dream of the Alps in its beauty,
Walking around, I hear the London Bridge revealing its story,
Attending to my duties, my inward eyes capture the Himalayas in stability.
It might sound odd to most of you as far from reality,
You might term me mildly lunatic distanced from sensibility,
I might look a little peculiar figure leading away from credibility,
Well, that is me a lonely being very much against rationality.
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.
Meenas Poems 