Meenas Poemsit is a bread
an ordinary bread
not a whole loaf of bread
but a morsel of bread
that led to a blood
gory and fierce blood
a splatter all over of blood
fearful sight of blood
the fight for the bread
brought out this blood
humanity and its bred
demand the blood
for a piece of bread
hunger and anger instead
want bread and blood
ends up with a lot of blood
but without a piece of bread.
An ant was going here an there.
It was going round everywhere.
It did not stop for a second anywhere.
It was busy, too busy.
It was joined by another two.
All went ahead in a queue.
Wherein? I did not have a clue.
They were busy, too busy.
The three went towards a hole.
They caught hold of a bread roll.
They tried to pull it in whole.
They were busy, too busy.
They tried and tried.
They pulled and pulled.
They got it in full and fled.
They were busy, too busy.
Heard of slice of bread for sure.
It keeps the tummy full all the more.
Heard about the slice of cake not unsure
It makes the lip smack ever more.
Heard about the slice of life in an assure.
It is a narration of experience nothing more.
Bread is for sustenance no doubt.
It is the basic requirement for all.
Cake is for a difference no doubt.
It is a desired inclination for the tall.
Life is a reference no doubt.
It is a practical restoration before a fall.
Slices give directions almost.
Leading to an enactment in their way.
Survival is never a question most.
Enjoyment is also never a problem most.
Pulling on is ever a challenge almost.
So slices are but reactions definite at the most.
Meenas Poems 