Meenas Poemsit is a ride
going off the tide
well into the side
not under a hide.
it is a slide
very much like a glide
nothing in the allied
well into the belied.
It is an abide
not in the aside
but being fired
that too from the
It has died
having been tried
turning dried
nothing beside.
The night being still
with a darkness so intense
no stars found in the sky
with the waning moon
seen very slight
on the whole there being
a stillness and chill
evolving a fright and fear
as darkness always shows
an apprehension and scare
holding his breath he moved
hastening without a noise
stealthily moved into the house
which was totally dark
where none lived for long
opened the door gently
there rung an alarm
resonating all through
waking the people around
who rushed in with lights
the man knowing not what to do
ran inside the house
where the doors screeched
and the windows croaked
he went straight ahead
knocked himself down
and lay there dead
with his jaws wide open.
That being a house in which I was born
That being a house in which I cried first.
That being the house where I was brought up .
That being the house where I grew.
That being the house where I played
That being the house where I gave birth to my children
That being the house which was a part of me.
That being the house where my parents lived and died.
That being the house that brings 
nostalgic memories
That being the house which looked grand and majestic
That being the very house now looks sad and waned,
That being the house now has lost its shine.
That being the very house now it silently weeps ad sobs
That being the house longing for its past glory and last pomp .
as it stands remote and battered by times and ill luck,
Meenas Poems 