Meenas Poems
Long back Kings invaded and killed many.
A little long ago nations invaded and killed thousands.
Day before Tarantulas invaded Assam town and killed two.
Royalty killed out of enmity.
Nations killed because of greed.
Why do spiders kill?
It was in France.
I saw a dance.
It depicted a romance.
It was a delightful stance.
It was a sprightly advance.
It instigated a trance.
The episodes were enhancing.
The movements were scintillating.
The music was capturing.
The presentation was engulfing.
On the whole it was vivaciously charming.
Round and round the danseuse moved in a whirl.
Round and round the music filled in a swirl.
Round and round the expressions gathered in a curl.
Round and round the scenes changed in a furl.
Round and round the drummers beat in a hurl.
It was a recital very engaging.
It was a concert very enlivening.
It was an experience absolutely enthralling.
It released a significant nostalgic feeling.
On the whole it was overwhelmingly amazing.
It is a red-letter day they hail
It is a red alert they caution.
It is a red light area they call.
It is a red zone they enforce.
It is scorching red fire they mourn.
It is a red wound they shout.
It is a red stain they blurt.
It is a red blood bath they scream.
It is red in most fronts we admit.
The colour red strikes a discordance.
It spreads a discomfort somewhere.
It signifies a flamboyance everywhere.
It was a beautiful red flower in full bloom.
It was a pleasing red .
It was a lovely red.
It was a cheerful red.
It was not angry red.
It was not fiercely red.
It was not dangerously red.
It beckoned with a grace.
It reckoned with a poise.
It depicted a welcome choice.
It portrayed a smiling face.
The red flower’s charm lasted a day.
The red colour faded the next day.
The next morn it drooped down dead on the ground grey.
It was an exchange,
Neither dealing with currency in a range.
Nor involving a
barter all the same.
It was an exchange,
Away from the economy in a range,
Far away from the mundane all the same.
It was an exchange.
Across the deep blue ocean in a range,
Covering thousands of kilometers all the same.
It was an exchange,
Where age did not come into the range,
Where affection stood above all the same.
It was an exchange ,
Where the grandson poured out his thoughts in a range,
Where the grandmother listened mesmerised all the same.
Then it is not an exchange,
You might blindly say in a range,
Yet it was sharing of feelings in a manner strange.
Up and down we go
What for we do not know?
Here and there we see
What for we do not know?
Right and left we move
What for we do not know?
Gain and loss we make
What for we do not know?
Earn and spend we do
What for we do not know?
Good and bad we commit
What for we do not know?
Love and hate we relate
What for we do not know?
Soft and sharp we speak
What for we do no know?
Kind and cruel we pose
What for we do not know?
Smile and weep we react
What for we do not know?
Happy and sad we be
What for we do not know?
Live and 
die we interpret
What for we do not know?
The evening was sultry and hot.
There was no breeze to cool out.
It was unpleasant all through.
While sitting heaving and puffing in the patio
Got calls from friends in a row.
Each one expressing a strain sad
Emphasizing the unkindness meted out.
The senior one wished to die
holding strongly destiny in her hands.
The other one cursed his siblings to a tragic death.
adorning himself in a prophetical garb.
The last one was in bad health.
Depression had taken its toll.
He had shed his snobbish pride,
Lo!looked demure and desolate,
The poor weakling wished nothing, cursed none,
He only longed for peace to return.
These added up to the heat around.
Making one to think and think aloud.
Finally found out that
Happiness is within ourselves
Not anywhere else.
It was a search.
It was a thorough search,
leaving everyone in the lurch.
It was a raid.
It was a thorough raid,
exposing everything that was discreetly laid.
It was an investigation.
It was a thorough investigation,
unravelling everything from the closely conceived distribution.
It was an exposition.
It was a thorough exposition,
laying bare the well conceited deviations.
It was a fraudulent.
It was a thorough fraudulent,
directing to an unscrupulous deceiving indulgence.
It taught a lesson.
It was a moral lesson.
delivering that integrity has a beautiful designation.
Mortals think they are immortal.
Rich feel they are absolutely insulated.
Powerful assume they are invincible.
Wise observe everyone with zeal.
Thus goes the world round and round
unaware of its impermanence.
A gift bought with care,
unmindful of fare,
was a piece very rare,
bearing lot of credentials to share.
proposing many features in pair.
It was brought across the shore,
was priceless even more.
The special feeling it bore,
was the core,
enhancing the significance by a score.
Reaching the destination finally,
it was unpacked carefully,
Lo! it was damaged slightly.
the tear was visible obviously.
The precious gift lost its value immediately.
Meenas Poems 