Meenas Poems
The waves toss high and low.
The sea comes in and goes out.
The fire rises up and slumps down.
The forests get thick and then thins down.
The mountains grow huge and declines down
The path runs steep and straightens out.
Man alone stands out from this natural recourse.
Colours give a fantastic splash,
Red, they say is a sign of danger,
It goes with fire and blood,
it also aligns with anger,
It is sometimes eye-catching,
With an association of shades,
A lighter red is most attractive,
Elucidating a charm and desire,
Warming up to a cordiality,
Indicating a significant good will,
Well ,this is how we could talk of other colours too.
It is a comma that brings about a suspense
It is a hyphen that links one another in a sense.
It is a semicolon that gives two 
separate ideas in an attribution.
It is a colon that makes us wait for more revelations.
It is a question mark that allows us to reason.
It is the exclamation that points to joy and sadness according to season.
It is within inverted commas we quote others which enliven.
It is between the brackets additional information is given.
It is the full stop that puts an end to writing.
In life we encounter many struggles and setbacks,
Knowingly or unknowingly we align with one another in the track.
Our alliance might evolve a relationship good or bad.
In course of time we would be subjected to turmoil sad.
The reasoning mind would look with suspicion.
The joy or sorrow would keep us in tension.
We seek the advice of experienced men.
Bracketing with others we pull on like a hen.
At last we get into the grave never to wake again.
I observe in silence,
I hear in magnitude,
I see in-depth,
That is what I can do.
A child begins her day,
Setting aside everything gay,
Pushing back all her play,
Switching on to the rigorous fray.
She gets ready in a hurry,
Breaks her fast in a flurry,
Casting her likes in a bury,
She walks up in a slurry.
Still sleep lingers in her eyes,
As she opens her reader to a size,
Pouring over the book in a guise,
She follows the teacher with a despise.
From school she comes home,
Falls asleep in her cosy bedroom,
The little girl finds no time to bloom,
Eventually she has to face the doom.
I looked up at the ceiling.
I saw two lizards talking,
What do they have to talk?
Do I sound audacious?
I started wondering,
Their talk continued for long,
It seemed to be never-ending,
I came to understand,
They too have issues to discuss,
More so like men,
Breaking their heads over money,
Worrying about relationships,
Gossiping about others,
Finding fault with administration,
Scolding their little ones,
Quarreling with each other,
I try to follow their voice,
I could not do so,
But finally accepted,
Lizards can talk.
The mind is bare of thoughts,
The writing seeks for words,
An uneasy gusto retraces ,
A little pity seeps up,
What to write and what not?
Often it recurs with a flash,
The desire to write surfs up,
Quelling the mind’s stubbornness,
I write, i write,still to keep me going,
As it is a therapy that keeps me active.
The garden was stocked with fallen leaves,
Gathering them up was a task in a fleece,
There was an uninterrupted fall from trees,
Leaves came down slowly after a gentle breeze.
Green and yellow leaves lay scattered without a cease,
Twigs small and big landed down in the crease,
They made the garden look like a messy freeze,
Inadvertently it seemed an entertainment set to please.
Cleaning up was a target beyond reach,
Finding a team was a difficult breach,
The work had to be done with a screech,
As there was no time to impeach.
Like the dry leaves thoughts crowd
The mind quivers in a desperate shroud,
Sprucing it up seems to be a task loud,
Resuming equanimity is like a falling cloud.
The imbalance strikes hard mercilessly,
Reviewing it generates apprehension enormously,
Yet gardens could be swept and cleaned spotlessly,
But the mind withholds the trials though not erroneously.
Falling down causes a hurt,
Skidding leads to a hurt,
Seeing daggers imposes a hurt,
Speaking sharp proposes a hurt,
Attitude indifferent brings out a hurt,
Physical wound is a tolerable hurt,
Abstract outrage is an unbearable hurt.
As accidents are causes for hurts,
Evil breaks up lot of hurts,
The body staggers with a hurt,
It loses its power along with a hurt,
The mind succumbs to the hurt,
It desperately slides down with the hurt,
This is the most diabolical of all hurts.
Schools are production houses akin to industries
They are into manufacturing process with diligence,
Children are spun into yarn without any thick and thin,
Then woven into weft and warp without any fault,
Finally they find their light more or less like a cloth
Schools are into intense competition,
Learning by rote is the only assumption,
Reading becomes a mere automatic application,
Writing takes the form of just copying,
Comprehension is nowhere to be found.
Children perform under pressure,
Losing their childhood in the course,
Scores usurp the central place,
Assimilation takes the back seat,
It is a mechanical mess up.
Tests and exams are predominant,
High grades are the goal of the parents,
Streams of examinations besiege the young mind,
Abandoning them into a cess pool of valuation,
Dooming them to a world of professionalism.
Each child has a liking of its own,
Each one can live his life only once,
Robbing them of their play and leisure,
Compelling them to forsake their ambition,
Is a dreaded sin than any other.
Schools with excessive achievements,
Steal the show and grab the status,
Their demands make us fall back,
The education imparted is no way fabulous,
Yet we find a long queue waiting in their gates.
Two and a half-year old has to take a test,
Parents have to attend interviews,
Those who are supposed to be in the cradle,
Come out to face the stern teachers,
The sweet smile converts itself to a loud cry.
Oh! what a cruelty the children undergo,
Where are you Blue cross and Red cross?
Taking care of animals is humanitarian,
How do you miss the plight of the toddlers?
Could you not do anything to save them?
Years ago children loved school,
it was another home to them,
Learning was never cumbersome,
It rendered a development wholesome.
Children learnt with ease,
Numbers were easily mastered,
Letters were finely read,
Everything went directly to the head.
Learning was both study and play,
Simple practices enabled counting
Carry over was established in adding,
Take away was used in subtracting.
Language became a felicitous facility,
Grammar opened up the intricacies,
Usage delivered the delicacies,
Communication became relevancies.
It was an enjoyable experience,
The teacher and taught worked together,
There was no pressure or ill feeling rather,
It was a perfect harmony altogether.
Meenas Poems 