I had seen many things in life
I had seen good things to an extent
bad things exceed in number and strength
I am being relative though
good things correspond to kindness on whole
the kinder you are the nobler you be
kindness is awesome without any dole
bad things take me beyond the norms
evil be the only word I could find to denote
decries and howls at you with a fierceness
supersedes you in no time without a note
you become a victim and a player in oneness
a vulnerability settles with a strangeness
the little good you have disappears
you become evil, think evil and talk evil
that be the destiny of badness
possessed they are of evil in darkness
.
Category: Poem
I
t is grace they say
a divine grace in a way
that overwhelms the crowd
who shout aloud
they shake and cry
never at all shy
raise their voice
throw their choice
excited they are
exaggerated they wear
studs, bracelets and chains
gaudy shirts with thick metals
all go to make the scene unholy
the frenzied shouts haunt the ears
their gait teases the eyes
altogether a not so desirable event
but has become a powerful deviant.
Come the weekends
I sit tied to my phone
there could be no end
the rings come nonstop in tone
the calls would be in order
the first from my first son
who lives in the northern border
the next from my second son
who lives in the southern hemisphere
finally from my youngest one
who lives in the same sphere
all call me in the same tone
and utter the very word “atha”
( the Tamil equivalent of mother)
the eldest one talks in a mild voice
the same way he used to call me as a kid
the second one bursts out with emotion across
as he used to hug me when he was a kid
the third comes in an authoritative tone
the very way he used to beat me around as a kid
they have changed and fathered children
their voices till remains the same to me
and it is that call that brings me out of the den
My sons, I love you all the more and most.
Long Live all of you!—-“Atha”.
Away it flew
before anyone attempted a 
slew
into the blue
Categories
Not Anymore.
The clock strikes seven
ding dong goes its bell
I used to be in a hurry
not so anymore
The seven in the morning
a crucial time long back
with children at home
not so anymore.
The morning call at seven
a hectic time long before
the school bus honked so loud
not so anymore.
The alarm went mad at seven
ran here ran there long ago
my boys jumped over the fence
not so anymore.
The seven past in the morning
heaved a sigh of relief years back
with my boys packed to school
not so anymore.
Now the seven, or eight in the morning
I watch the school buses ply up and down
my sons not around me to get ready
very different all the more.
Am I afraid of the dark?
never, quoth I with pride
dark is a bliss
when one can hear a hiss
it preempts a fear
never so to me dear.
The scary darkness as all say
is one not of gay
I relish in its silence
revel in its dissonance
darkness has its own glory
yet all condemn it with fury.
I lie in the darkness
with memories of past
one by one they go on a show
the long back comes in very slow
the lessons I learn
checks me with a discern.
sleep and darkness go well
they complement one another
as darkness sets in
the eyelids close in
slumber overwhelms to a death status
the conscious turns dormant in phases.
Theft and murder happen in darkness
a common belief all so ever
darkness hides the wrongdoer
never do I vouchsafe for this terror
evils take place in broad daylight
the men pass without casting a sight.
I am an advocate of darkness
I deny its allegiance to illicit
I admire its loveliness
the black sky renders a greatness
I might be a quixotic being to you
yet to me the darkness is best to view.
Darkness relates to many attributions
it being a benefactor to most
lovers huddle together in proximity
darkness gives them the wanted privacy
the child nudges and cuddles on to the mother
the birds nestle close under their feathers.
To be in the dark, an idiomatic expression
illustrates the ignorance in a strength
little does it know that darkness illumines
dark is an associate of calmness determines
an incongruity and a paradox ruminate
the explicitness is in the real frame
darkness puts radiance to a shame.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
Categories
Who She Is In A Way?
It is a trick
more or less a gimmick
she is a friend to all
always there in a call
that was before long
now she is away for long
does not respond at all
nor does she answers a call
she has turned a mystery
her good nature has become a history
she dodges and drives through
never in place all through
I seek and search with fervour
could find her where so ever
I give up and sit back
she came today in a slack
she was with me for a few minutes
disappeared from my hold in a minute
hopped and jumped to a place little away
showed up for a few minutes in a stay
then ran away for the day
could you recognise who she is in a way?
she is none other than rain
she has teased my brain 
Categories
Copy -An Art
A copy turns original
with creative ideas in elaborate
a camouflage perfect.
Categories
A Great Resemblance
it is a steady walk
climbing the steep
descending the slope
crossing the valley
jumping over the pits
wading through the waters
all done in a way
throughout the days
most synonymous with life
surrounded by trials
encircled by tiffs
endowed with bliss
entangled by myths
all experienced in a way
throughout the days
a life, not of bed of roses
a walk, not over the smooth surface
a dishevelled and disturbed path
that be in life and tread
a great resemblance found
by all at all 
times.
Categories
The Land Of Beliefs And Customs
My country is awe inspiring
the vastness needs exploring
the diversity indicates a disbelief
the people show a distant relief.
Prosperity exudes all realms
poverty reduces every term
yet they coexist in a trend
make the country invariably bend.
The gender discrimination is prominent
the men are very dominant 
though the women play a role significant
they remain almost insignificant.
The religions stick to rituals not loose
with temples seen in all nooks
the marriages mostly are arranged
within a closeted community in a range.
My country as I had seen all these years
is inhabited by people with sharp ears
a slip of the tongue insinuates a flame
that rises up in leaps with every claim.
Yet my country is adorable
its shortcomings are implausible
but the ancient land invokes an astonishment
its cheer and stoicism provoke an amazement
Meenas Poems 