Meenas PoemsThe Sun is very angry
shining with a fury
making everyone weary
posting a slurry
proposing in a hurry
a treaty not very airy
but very slippery
calling for treaty
which is shortly
environment friendly
needed greatly
for man to live harmoniously
with nature peacefully.
Will man accept it readily?
Will he adopt it surely?
have to watch patiently.
Referring none in life
though he may sound real
but having heard in tales
experienced it in the years
says my friend Shree in a tone sad.
She begins her narration thus
A man I know most and very well
and you might be aware of
in most or least extent
I really do not know
was a cause of great turmoil
a reason for depression
as both mind and body suffered
He,an illiterate to the core
wielding his power denoted to him
by a will of the deceased
made one cry in silence and endure
cry not he alone but his family along with him
being denied of his rightful share
not for months but for years together
The man with power filed cases in courts
paid solicitors heavily
bribed officials greatly
all from the common account
planning never to release the share
finally justice taught him
the moral and the lesson
enforcing a release by court order
But did he turn a new leaf?
Never would he as he is evil
not an embodiment or a personification
but evil, altogether an evil
still goes more and more into destruction
surely he would die not a natural death
nor his family would remain tact
He would find his end soon
with none to continue his lineage.
The story loaded with pathos and anger
came to a 
close with a note of danger.
His rage and fury knew no bounds
as he shouted at everyone around
What for he was shouting? none knew not.
He was shouting with all his might at the lot.
The enrage and indignation had no meaning
They were an outcome of his demanding
Always making mole hill out of mountains.
Babbling throughout like an old fountain.
The people around were equally furious
Kept sober to keep peace was seen obvious
Controlling their emotions they moved away.
Telling him finally to mind his tongue all the way.
Now left alone he fumed and fretted
He was not accepted in circles much feted.
But was posted at a distance with a detest
Thus he lost his name in an acid test. 
A morning of high activity
with strange feelings
and undesired results
came into force
bringing with it
huge problems
and volumes of discussions
that went never-ending
all through the day
making the whole day
laborious and unsettled
infusing a detestation and
look out of how to come out
of it in a silent and nonchalant way.
The activities were thrown out of purview
while the unexpected 
arguments
took the prime spot
leading to a commotion
and a sparking anger
ending up in wrath and desolation
Take it or leave it
cried my mother.
Angry for what
I know not.
The sudden outburst
was unfamiliar
causing a feeling
of discomfort.
In a freak of anger
justifiable too
like mother
so the daughter
I threw the thing
I remember not
what it was
as years have
rolled and memories
have got rusted.
Sensitive was and is
my weakness as
everybody terms it
but I feel strongly
it is pride and
self-respect that
had held me and
is still holding me
in a status different
from the rest
many might dislike
me and only a
few would agree
with my sensitivity
or rather I would
address it as
sensibility am I right?
It was an anger.
It was a justifiable anger,
directed on those not meagre
who created a disaster
spoiling the environment to a shudder,
destroying the ambience to a bother
causing enmity in an hour
speaking foul with a fervour
disrespecting all with rigour
breaking rules with a hammer,
ignoring discipline in a trigger
indulging in unlawful acts with a deceit clever.
engaged in stealing with a devour,
involved in cheating with a smart demeanour,
accepting bribes with an amour,
conniving and conspiring with a lilting temper,
spreading unrest with a flavour
carrying on illicit trades almost ever,
letting out a smoke of pernicious danger.
It was a miss out which cost dear.
It was a fall which caused a smear.
It was a slip of the tongue that prompted a jeer.
It was a mindless cut that brought a tear.
It was an anger that raised the ear.
It was a danger that caused a terrible fear.
It was a provocation that invited a sneer.
It was a curiosity that called for a look near.
It was a wonder that instigated a peer.
It was a transgression that was slotted for the rear.
Always the miss outs would cost anyone dear.
There was a bang next door.
Something fell on a floor.
Other things flew out of the door.
Certain others flew in a soar.
Every other thing was in fours.
The shrieks ranted the air.
The shouts lay everything bare.
There was nothing to share.
There was no one to care.
It was a terrible blare.
“It is you ,you”, accused a voice in anger
“Not me, me,”sobbed the other in a whisper.
The dialogue was converted into a slander.
The exchange was disgracefully vulgar.
The incident did not propose a healthy augur.
The storm died down with an intermittent intervention.
The intrusion became a hapless, weak contravention.
The go back would be a shameful digression.
A physical abjure would have been a better proposition.
Alas! the wordy abuse was an incisive demonstration.
Mind your language.
It reflects your lineage.
It gives you a leverage.
Mind your anger.
It talks of you in meagre
It lasts longer.
Mind your behaviour.
It illustrates your interior.
It delivers a profound exterior.
Mind your pride.
It takes you for a ride.
It dwells within your hide.
Mind your desire.
It evolves an aspire.
It diffuses into an ire.
Mind your attire.
It might infer a satire.
It spreads an admire.
Mind yourself in the world.
It is the perfect road.
It would lead you to heights untold.
A bout of anger empowered her
It nearly paralysed her.
The nerves rolled up violently.
Delirium seized her vigorously.
Damn it! she shouted as loud as she could.
She swears and curses as much as she could.
She stutters and mumbles as long as I could.
She staggers out as slow as she could.
She sees a circle of fire around her.
It is burning high encircling her.
It is not the real fire that holds her.
It is the heaving and sighing that kills her.
Yet, she is not reigning aplomb and high
She is struggling to make ends meet with a try.
She lives away from gossip and schemes almost shy.
Her manifestations and gestures perch her above sky.
Is it wrong to live with pride? she quoth.
Is it a sin to detach from the crowd? she loathes.
Is it treason to survive within means? she froths.
Nay not, my child, live as righteously as you could, I console.
The world finds happiness in jeering the noble.
It mocks at the efforts of the able.
How are we going to label?
The provocations make us unstable.
Meenas Poems 