Meenas PoemsThe road engine across the road
goes up and down in a stroll
making a gritty noise all the while so
a slow movement, not in style
has been going on for two days
an uneasy feeling sets in ways
be it for the good in a civic sense
could be a pollutant in a dense
it goes on with its work all the same
could not put the engine to shame
good roads being a necessity to all
wish not to complain its performance.
The monkeys opposite
have gone without a deposit
their habitat has become
a lorry shed with newcomers
come and go all through the day
the chatter of monkeys is 
invariably
replaced by the engine sound mostly
the hop and skip of the little ones
not to be found ever once
a lump passes through the throat
as I visualise the monkeys on a float
the hustle of trees is no more
the bustle of men is there all the more.
When the heart misses the rhythm
death unfolds.
When the engine misses the rhythm
death catches up.
When poetry misses the rhythm
it dies.
Meenas Poems 