Meenas PoemsThe thought of children
bring to mind their innocence
the love they show in expression
taking us to a delightful relevance
when we turn young and youthful
going back to the days of childhood
where everything was wonderful
reminding us of the days that could
spice and spruce the remaining days
adding charm and thrill to a degree
refreshing the mind in a large way
diffusing the cobwebs in a spree
exalting the spirit with a sustained stay.
The lovely voices from far away
calling at the same time in all gay
one from the northern hemisphere
another from the southern sphere
crying in joy and wishing great tidings
their voice being ebullient and enthusiastic
what a throw it had with vibrant feelings
hearing them talk I became ecstatic
How well does the children’s talk rejuvenate?
The day would pass with the same reverberation
that is how I pass my days with an injected celebration 
The water dashed on the rocks
turned inside with a brush.
The wind stuck on the hillocks
went back in a rush.
The rains fell heavily on the land locks
decreased in a hush.
The devastation was terrific on the flocks
creating a violent crush.
There ends everything on the dock
making nothing out in a fuss.
A lively day with action
getting lot of reaction
multiplied in fraction
seen in great faction
heard in situation
fastened by traction
undergoing a deletion
finding no reason
withstanding all treason
going ahead in fashion
reaching the culmination
with no obstruction
thus the day went by in precision
as the action came to a stop with a fusion
where good and bad confront in a notion
while great and small clash in a notation
as the valid and fake pose a confrontation
the day came to a close away from the stipulated location.
Having been busy all through the day
felt the pain in the knee at night
gnawing and splitting in a way
unable to sleep for an hour even slight
the pain was excruciating and acute
lying down seemed a problem great
sitting up posed an obligation statute
what am I to do ? I very much hate
myself and my knee all to be pulled apart
throwing them into the dustbin at last
before becoming a stumbling puppet
intending to race 
out of the world in a start.
Having lived in a status seclude
with the children married and living away
locked to one another in a schedule’
a new entry 
causes a flutter in a way
forcing an adjustment in the include
that makes us dislocated for a day
spending time having in mind our own plans
each one not intruding into another
we experience a proximity in stance
frequently quarrelling with one another
reconciling easily and that too at once
The routine has been so for a while
keeping us happy in a style.
The wind blows with a violence
destroying the ambience
uproo
ting the trees
gushing through with a wicked glee.
With the day going sultry in November
with that of a stuffiness and humidity all over
being most unusual during this season
when it usually rained cats and dogs with reason
with a coolness all around the day
with dew falling in the early hours of the day
being a change from the hot spell most welcome
now it is getting hotter and hotter in the days to come
with little sign of rain and pleasantness
the land getting drier with hotness
with water becoming a scarcity and cuddled
sitting with a look puzzled and thoughts muddled
we cope with the present state in a mood non prescribed
and a schedule rare almost not denoted or inscribed 
That being a house in which I was born
That being a house in which I cried first.
That being the house where I was brought up .
That being the house where I grew.
That being the house where I played
That being the house where I gave birth to my children
That being the house which was a part of me.
That being the house where my parents lived and died.
That being the house that brings 
nostalgic memories
That being the house which looked grand and majestic
That being the very house now looks sad and waned,
That being the house now has lost its shine.
That being the very house now it silently weeps ad sobs
That being the house longing for its past glory and last pomp .
as it stands remote and battered by times and ill luck,
The crackers are in full swing
a noise emanates from one wing
deafening the ears with a terrific sound
a siege of smoke and fumes swarm all round
creating a terrible suffocation all through
the spirit of the festival is greatly through
with fun and merriment exalted to heights
entertaining and enjoying in all rights
that being synonym with the festival of light
where money is being spent with delight
once in a year it occurs in this part
with exchanges of good will and cheer in a sort
expressed by distributing laddoos and sweets
presenting dress to the near with a mood upbeat
patronising the needy to an extent moderately
goes Diwali where diyas are lit severally
illuminating the household outwardly
indicating a lighting up of the soul inwardly
with enlightenment and tranquillity in reality.
Meenas Poems 