The tell-tale story I heard
was something unheard
a fictitious imagination
an irrelevant construction
which intends to take one far
but leaves one at the door ajar
stand we there in aghast
with our eyes firmly cast
not in a way down as thought
but high up in a sort
unbelievable we gape
incredible we exclaim
yet the tell- tale goes
in uninterrupted flows
we forget who we are
we grope in the dark
we loom there large
then spring up like a lark
run away in a barge
ahead from the glare
all the way from the stare
a right path to the realm of reality
greatly into the world of veracity.
imagination, gape, ajar, far,
Category: Poetry
The conversion as such
calls for nothing much
mean the religious change
that be within a range
India being a secular nation
with Hinduism as the religion
along with many others in the fray
Islam, Christianity at the bay
with other faiths in a minority
Sikhism, Buddhism and Jainism as priority
the ancient land of Vedas and scriptures
stays 
united in all other features
the Hindus tolerant in all ways
pay slight attention in any case
the others do not express similar feel
become infuriated and come out with a deal
cry hoarse over their faith being shattered
not knowing that it is each one’s wish and interest
cannot contrive a restriction and a circumspect
politicise the religious beliefs to the wildest
fleecing peace and bringing chaos in the quickest.
The walk I go in a way
helps me to sort out in a say
the physical discomfort of days
restores the mental discomfiture in place
a benefit hitherto I did not know
now have understood it anyhow
as the saying goes
it is better late than never
I wish everyone to follow it forever
not an advice as simply stated
but an experience very much related
to that of a well being very much rated
to which I am greatly indebted.
Advertisements are announcements
straight with colour and imagination
creative and destructive 
A man known to me
feels so secure
thinks he is immortal
lives in a world
of his own not very great
but very cheap and stinking
assumes he is the richest
presumes he is the cleverest
whereas he knows not to speak
coherently leave alone with sanity
his voice goes up and down
between various frequencies
with a little or no literacy
he circumvents and circumspects
being that all idiocy
abridged in his scarecrow form
that be his physical appearance
he is a menace and a parasite
gnawing and eating over
goes on unbridled
and lives like a miser
with his lovely wife
who is equal to him
in all respects and aspects
a perfect match perhaps God’s will
might had been so some forty-five years ago
they live together happily in a house
that belongs to too many
but they have usurped the place
giving no space to others
a wretched pair they are.
May their tribe increase!
May they flourish!
May they prosper!
till tides turn across.
Tears show many
feelings of happiness and remorse
overshadows the strength.
Categories
The Split And After
An age old couple
are in trouble
so long a lively pair
now in disenchanted fare.
They see not eye to eye
live separated and not shy
the wife remains unbothered
the husband unperturbed.
What might be the reason?
is it because of treason?
be it in the part of one
or be it for only fun.
It could not be fun
as they exactly shun
see they not each other
nor try to resolve rather.
It is unfathomable
more so it is unthinkable
quarrel at the ripe old age
unimaginable at this stage.
They continue to live in such state
Well, in old age that is their fate
forgetting that companionship
is the essence
live they without each other’s presence.
The primary school next to my house
presents a picture of grouse
space very limited for improvement
children stay in without movement
the teachers shout from morn to evening
the children follow with no understanding
it is mechanical, mind you
a recital without a clue
begins with the vernacular
goes with English in a manner jocular
then comes the counting in rote
with the rhymes in a shrieky note
on the whole, it is chaos
till the evening when the little ones
bid cheerio
a great relief to me from the din and noise
and to the kids from the venue of their parent’s choice
Categories
Peace Attacked
I have lots to do today
not only today but every day.
Hope you have too
Is it one or two?
Tell me without a hide
Do not take me for a ride.
I am not able to hear you clear
Do not mumble, come out without fear.
Well, that be the weakness of all
a murmur and a grumble in call.
That be the design for all of us
Why do we go about with a fuss?
With so much to be done every day
why do we talk all day?
Talk leads to gossip in a way.
It becomes a slander in all ways.
The foul words catch fire
seize the entire
terrorism is born unknowingly
peace gets away unseemingly.
Categories
One, Two And Three
It was an afternoon
with a sleep all too soon
sat on to work with accounts
went mostly wrong in all counts.
One, two, three I counted diligently
skipped the four inadvertently
added up the credit and debit together
could not tally both altogether.
To fight sleep with a power
I quickly had a shower
came I fresh on to my work again
settled into the pattern of gain.
Did I say gain? that be in a hurry
it was profit and loss both wary.
I fumbled and struggled totally
Accounts are never my ally.
Abandoning the accounts I slept
sound as ever in great depth
came the numbers one, two and three
enough to
nag me in a spree.
Meenas Poems 