Meenas PoemsIt 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.
I saw a small bud in the morning,
it was fresh and feeble,
it was so beautiful.
I walked out in the late morning,
It was still the same,
It was dainty and frail.
I peeped out in the afternoon,
It looked more or less the same,
Though slightly bigger than in the morn.
I made it again in the late afternoon,
It was there remarkable as ever,
It danced charming in the breeze.
I advanced towards it in the evening,
It had opened up elaborately,
Spreading its fragrance all over.
I rushed towards it the next morning,
Its petals looked withered,
It was drooping in a fold.
I retreated with a heavy heart,
Capitulating the growth in a day,
Finally reconciling to death also in a day.
The garden was stocked with fallen leaves,
Gathering them up was a task in a fleece,
There was an uninterrupted fall from trees,
Leaves came down slowly after a gentle breeze.
Green and yellow leaves lay scattered without a cease,
Twigs small and big landed down in the crease,
They made the garden look like a messy freeze,
Inadvertently it seemed an entertainment set to please.
Cleaning up was a target beyond reach,
Finding a team was a difficult breach,
The work had to be done with a screech,
As there was no time to impeach.
Like the dry leaves thoughts crowd
The mind quivers in a desperate shroud,
Sprucing it up seems to be a task loud,
Resuming equanimity is like a falling cloud.
The imbalance strikes hard mercilessly,
Reviewing it generates apprehension enormously,
Yet gardens could be swept and cleaned spotlessly,
But the mind withholds the trials though not erroneously.
Falling down causes a hurt,
Skidding leads to a hurt,
Seeing daggers imposes a hurt,
Speaking sharp proposes a hurt,
Attitude indifferent brings out a hurt,
Physical wound is a tolerable hurt,
Abstract outrage is an unbearable hurt.
As accidents are causes for hurts,
Evil breaks up lot of hurts,
The body staggers with a hurt,
It loses its power along with a hurt,
The mind succumbs to the hurt,
It desperately slides down with the hurt,
This is the most diabolical of all hurts.
There was a loud thunder,
Then a silence,
There was a great fall,
Then a silence,
There was a hideous clash,
Then a silence,
There was a deliberate blow,
Then a silence,
There was a terrific gunning,
Then a silence,
There was heart-rending cry,
Then a silence,
There was a rattling prattle,
Then a silence,
There was a deafening noise,
Then a silence,
There was, there was ,everything loud,
Yet, there was, there was ,
then a silence.
The wrong side of fifties is taking its toll,
Once a gentle walk is now a tottering fall
Once a strong determination is now a frailty,
Once a powerful memory is now a forgetful folly,
Once a force to reckon is now a powerless weakling,
Once a reservoir of ideas is now an empty lurking,
Once a cynosure of all eyes is now an eyesore,
Once an affable synergy is now a tough bore,
Years role out in spectacular speed,
Stealing the lovely charm indeed !
Leaves bloom in a lovely green hue,
Thick and dense in a clasping cue,
Spreading a canopy of shade ,
Providing a glittering like jade,
Only to fall in days few.
The rain fed rivers flow gently,
Through the pebbles and moss gracefully,
Carrying with them alluvial soil across
Enriching the fields as they cross,
Only to get into the ocean mildly.
Man lives with pomp and merry,
Arrogant and towering over all in glory,
Dictating terms to everyone with serpentine authority,
Destroying one and all with diabolical impetuosity
Only to get interred in dust shortly
It is as explicit as ever,
That which is born cannot live forever,
That which takes place will fade
Be it beautiful or ugly,good or bad,
All would drop down in 
a wither.
Meenas Poems 