Meenas PoemsTurning deaf to criticisms
he walked across the aisle
not lending his ears to the chatter .
Pretending to be blind
he crossed the patio
not casting his eyes at the glare.
Posing to be dumb
he passed the entrance
not opening his mouth to the flatter.
With his senses all perfect
he proposed an imperfection
moving right away from the banter.
Love being blind
sees no reason or colour
it loves blind.
Love is blind
seeing with long sighted vision
it goes blind.
Love is blind
leading not through the course
it becomes blind.
Love is blind
crossing not with easy jump
it turns blind. 
A man tried to cross the road all carefully.
Counting each step he took attentively.
Tapping his way with a white long stick.
Expressing cheer without a slightest tick.
Another man followed him with ease.
With eyes focused elsewhere emitting a tease.
Waving an expensive mobile phone proudly.
Guffawing with impertinence rather hoarsely.
The first man passed through sensibly.
With ears wide open to sound totally.
With mind alert to the hubbub deliberately.
Walked ahead unscathed heroically.
The second one got caught in the milieu.
With ears stuck to the mobile with all due.
Absolutely engrossed in the talk all through.
Slipped into a tumble with a big hue.
The first one had eyes bare.
Saw only dark nothing rare.
Distinguished every sound to detail.
Took unhurried steps which carried him without fail.
The eyes of the second were bright.
Saw nothing beside the light.
Oblivious to sound on the right.
He was overthrown by a speeding car -a gory sight.
It is not the apparent loss that affects.
It is the real attention that diverts.
The challenged gets ahead.
The fit loses his head.
Going down the lane,
I saw a big cane,
Lying idly on the middle,
Creating a perplexing riddle,
The passers crossed over,
With a slight tremor,
No one dared to take,
As though it was fake,
Lest it would turn like,
A hideous omen alike,
Marking a risk too much,
Dispensing a terrible fear as such,
A man came groping towards it,
With uneasy effort lifted it,
Surprised the spectator’s find,
That he was blind.
Meenas Poems 