Meenas PoemsThe clouds gather in haste.
The sky turns dark,very dark.
all set for a down pour heavy
The wind blows unexpectedly
picking up in velocity
scatters the clouds
clears
the sky
and the rain is not seen.
The mind gets clear.
The thoughts spread over.
all set for a decision.
The emotions overwhelm suddenly
gains momentum in speed
diffuses the thoughts
contaminates the mind
and the decision is not taken.
The sway of the powerful
the way of the majority in all
the insidious actions of the chief in full
go to make the world a hell
in which we have to live without a yell.
Living without a noise in silence.
Tolerating things done in indulgence
has become the possible mode without negligence
pulling on in this world in accordance
and living in style with perseverance.
The voice of the minority 
goes unheard.
They stand in a corner shattered.
They are beaten up and battered.
Have to sustain in the dread
waiting for a release instead.
The world rolls on in great speed
Survival of the fittest is in the lead.
The weaklings are suffering indeed
To come up they have to resort to deeds
that could raise them above all .
The rule of majority gets going
not only in governance which is showing
but also in families that is not knowing
get reflected in opinions in a roaring
finds place in polls with a rousing
and the long list goes on and an
with the majority claiming power.
States where the origins lived
have come under the majority who invaded.
The invasion was not by war or any other
but by the hunt for gold and diamonds to further
also by trade and commerce to gather.
The natives were driven from the land mercilessly
They sought refuge in far away deserts and hills permanently
from the invader and losing their rights immediately
The Powerful who claim the rule do ignoble acts
depriving the minorities of their rights and facts
and pushing them to strains of penury in tact.
Thus move on the majority in great stride 
imperiously
making the minority wallow in filth derisively
It is a belief
it is a thought
it has been passed on.
it has stood the test of time.
As every rule has an exception
The thoughts that come down
have many exceptions
that have to be read through
before passing statements
before framing maxims.
One such thought is the love of mother.
Mother love is pure.
It is nectar, the essence
goes on in stories and poems
Majority feel so
As everywhere the majority have a go
the minority have to turn and go 
It so being
mothers are wicked
not to all her children
but to a few
for reasons known to none
but for reasons known to her.
Take this into consideration
when you next pen and eulogise
” Mothers Love” my dear friend.
Saw a kitten in the morning
thin and bony
Noticing it running
a crow black and scary
came down flying.
The kitten stood without moving
The crow flew up.
W
hen the kitten started running
the crow came down
The Kitten trembled in fear
It was very clear
that the crow was about to catch
Ran through the pathway
chased the crow away
and took the kitten home.
The past is a relic.
it is antique
being outdated and didactic.
The present is alive.
It is a drive.
being imminent and a thrive.
The future is hope.
It is an elope.
being a possibility and a cop
e.
Power becomes powerful
powering
things to great power
raising to power.
Powerful exerts power
over all powers emerging powerful
enhancing the power.
The suspense got over
it is nothing to think over.
Something that hovers
for quite some time
and gets away from sight.
The result was not to taste
but was given in haste.
Well accepting it as chaste
gives a lively feeling
and a pleasant 
endowment.
With whatever that has been given
could create much wonder
With that thought in mind
went ahead with determination
along the sides with exertion.
Well, that has become my take
right from young age.
Getting the least of what lies
making the most of what I get
a practice of making it perfect.
This result is one such one
Nothing great nothing less.
Had a setback slight in the affront.
But took it in stride without any brunt.
This attitude serves as a best option.
There is a cause
for the fall
nothing to pause
something to call
announcing a show false
delivering it tall
with no mean toss
but with a lovely ball
exhibiting the flaws
displaying in a hall
along with a gloss
attracting all
to a glittering loss.
The feather blew in the air
it landed down so swiftly
ran to pic
k it with care.
Meenas Poems 