Meenas PoemsThe flowers white with red stripes light
bloom with fragrance every night
could I say for most in the evening
spread an aroma around almost stunning
the smell enters the nostrils
keeps us in a trance with its fill
the flower is not huge in shape
very thin and fragile, soft and slim
a joy to twine them together
make a garland to God or rather
tie them into a bouquet small
put them on the head carefully as not to fall
the way every Indian woman wears
that be the Ramar Pich
i in choice.
Tiny dew drops shine like diamonds ,
They oscillate over the fragile green grass,
Shimmering in the glistening sunrise,
A beauty not to miss every morn.
Little buds peep out from the nodules,
They are in red, rose and blue,
Dancing in the morning breeze,
A beauty not to miss every morn.
Small children walk up the road to school,
They chuckle and chatter as they move,
Exchanging friendly gestures and pep talk,
A beauty not to miss every morn.
The glory of the day lies not in calls,
The charm of the hour is not based on tries,
The contentment rests on impressive sights,
That take us to infinite heights.
The beauty of the morn is not to be missed,
It has to be repeatedly cherished,
The dew drops, bud and child are personifications,
Of transcendental truth and exuberant bliss.
Meenas Poems 