What is it high up on the tree?
It is shiny green dancing in a spree.
Is it a fruit hanging down?
Is it a bird looking down?
If it is a fruit it must be a peach
high beyond the reach.
It could also be a mango.
oscillating in a tango.
If it be a bird it must be a parrot
likely to read the destiny like a tarot.
It glitters in the sunlight like a beautiful emerald
the thick green signifies a glorious herald.
It shows a pale green standing for unripe interventions
symbolically leading to many untold intimidation.
Curiously looking it is both fruit and bird.
The bird pecks on the fruit while perched on a woody gird.
Tiny bits fall down from the tree in intervals.
The fruit opens out its flesh in an unravel.
The parrot sucks the lascivious flesh in a stroke.
The seed falls down miserably in a coatless broke.
Oh! there is nothing brilliant high up on the tree.
Tag: intervention
There was a bang next door.
Something fell on a floor.
Other things flew out of the door.
Certain others flew in a soar.
Every other thing was in fours.
The shrieks ranted the air.
The shouts lay everything bare.
There was nothing to share.
There was no one to care.
It was a terrible blare.
“It is you ,you”, accused a voice in anger
“Not me, me,”sobbed the other in a whisper.
The dialogue was converted into a slander.
The exchange was disgracefully vulgar.
The incident did not propose a healthy augur.
The storm died down with an intermittent intervention.
The intrusion became a hapless, weak contravention.
The go back would be a shameful digression.
A physical abjure would have been a better proposition.
Alas! the wordy abuse was an incisive demonstration.
Meenas Poems 