Meenas PoemsA grocer has colours too
a greengrocer is one
so do the smiths
the blacksmith
and the goldsmith
goes on colours in names too
there are Whites, Blacks
and Greens, Violet
and Rose in a pictorial hue
no semblance to the people
no connection to their names
the colours go into the stream
seamless is their intervention
subtle is their connotation
lovely they are in 
an apparent jurisdiction.
A child hungrily sucks the breast
the mother holds him in a fond rest
a beautiful sight to view
the child has no clue
hunger is his only thought
other than else no other slot
the mother’s blood turns into milk
the child finishes his feed with a lick
the milk being a life-giving nectar
complements and supplements all sectors
it is a boon to both the giver and the receiver
like mercy it is twice blest
blesses the one that gives
and the one that takes
with the mother having gained benefits
the child nevertheless faces no deficit
they present a picture of bliss and grace
nothing to do with scorn even 
in a trace.
A drizzle in drips
held me in a grip
mind you the flower like
captivated an iron like
that too happens in a jolt
unexpected comes from the bolt
the petite girl pretty and mild
win over the man huge and wild
the heart firm and resolute
extends compassion absolute
the theory of possibility as seen
seems not very keen
fumbles with a slip and fall
differs from the writing on the wall.
Looking at the blue waters
I sit there for an hour and quarter
my thoughts wander
as I gaze with wonder
at the waves that come up in a tide
a close kiss on my feet beside
then turn back in a hurry
they go up and down without worry
a fine rhythmic manoeuvre
in a sequential grandeur
amazed I look at the blue waters for long
a thematic presentation in a melodious song
depicting the ebb and flow as a movement of fun
more so as a phenomenon very simple and common
the sequence of life validated through high and low
the method of living explained in moves slow.
Birth be there
to wedded persons
a child.
Birth be there
to living together couple
a child.
Birth be there
by illicit relations
a child.
Birth be there
through estranged
a child.
For no fault on its own
goes through 
life in pride or humility
the child
It is weird
absolutely weird
a man well reared
having a beard
sneered
with contempt
made an attempt
and tried to pre-empt
dumped
his possessions
with an assumption
they have a valuation
illusion
that is how it turned
lay there spurned
finally got burnt
a stunt.
It is a wedding
where two people unite
take the vow of marriage
well, at a reasonable age
arranged as in India
love as in other parts
the occasion is historic
not to all but to the family
then why such a noise?
why such an ostentation?
why such an expenditure?
above all why such a fuss?
I sit behind and ponder
many think I am foolish
term me as an eccentric
call me a crack
Am I any of the one?
Oh! gracious, let me know.
December reigns supreme
always looks like a dream
with snow all over like a cream
taking a shape of a lovely beam
high and low in a deem
with a freeze in the stream
it’s a glittering gleam
like a white angel in a redeem
being 
a loveliness all out there in a seam.
A little away into the street
hear a sound of a drum beat
so loud and upbeat
that being in a narrow lane
could see nothing from the glass pane
louder and louder the noise gains
seemed to strike the heart fiercely
the ears go deaf and lose their capacity
wondered what for it is?
with difficulty went past the crowd
saw to my dismay it was death out in the house
an old woman had died a few hours or close
the mourners engaged the drummers to beat wild
an attempt to scare off the devils in hide
got out fast unable to accept the claim
Is that a way to mourn a death? I acclaim
Well, superstition is in a flame
Stand aghast with a question who should be blamed?
it was thirty minutes past four
well into the early morning
between dark and dawn quite cold
with none of the humans up and around
the world was busy otherwise in a get up
the birds were ready for their fare
their cackle and chirp bustling in a bound
there were the others insects moving up and down
enjoying the beauty and serenity together
a wonderful thoroughfare was in the hub
an orchestral music being played with interest
without the interference of man’s artificial signs
hoots and honks, fumes and dust all prevalent
it is the nature in all wholly at its best.
Meenas Poems 