Meenas PoemsA man on the cliff
called to the men down
Oh, here I am
look at me
I am one of you
I had been battered by misfortunes
I am about to end my life
I am going to jump from this point.
Shall I jump or shall I not?.
The men below stood confused
they called to him
look at us
we are like you
we are under great trouble
we live with hope
we still walk past and tread through
Should we live or should we not?
The heart is never at one place
it is always on the move
a look, a read, a write in phases
a thought of food and sleep as proofs 
I am at home most times
my heart travels all the more
I sit unaware of the clock’s chimes
my heart trots, jumps and runs even more.
The felicity of the travel it conjures
could be of no comparison whatsoever
it sees, glimpses, peeps without perjure
a nice little way to loiter around as ever.
The images it gathers in its distinct journey
the experiences it encounters all through
could be of nothing similar to the real journey
has a lasting influence anyway all through.
The emotions and feelings it carries all the same
be the outcome of the day to day contentions
being active the subconscious plays a relentless game
while the conscious goes to sleep without retention.
The roam of the heart turns extensive
a premonition being on the cards
could occasionally turn reclusive
a reflection at times of hard .
A heart of steel be the decorum
succumbs not to the wear and tear
if at all it crumbles at the fulcrum
the physic collapses being unable to bear .
Saying so of the heart being an eulogy
the role of the heart is pivotal
unable to think of a fitting analogy
to”home is where the heart lies”being axial
It is a trick
more or less a gimmick
she is a friend to all
always there in a call
that was before long
now she is away for long
does not respond at all
nor does she answers a call
she has turned a mystery
her good nature has become a history
she dodges and drives through
never in place all through
I seek and search with fervour
could find her where so ever
I give up and sit back
she came today in a slack
she was with me for a few minutes
disappeared from my hold in a minute
hopped and jumped to a place little away
showed up for a few minutes in a stay
then ran away for the day
could you recognise who she is in a way?
she is none other than rain
she has teased my brain 
They live there
sitting in a big chair
not as one but in a pair
grin at us with a smile
chuckle with a vile
act in a style
purr and whimper
jump and scamper
they are not small beings
very clever in their doings
smart in the thinking
make us look little
as they giggle
we face a struggle
as to shoo them off
needs a skill great thereof.
A jump here and a jump there
came she with a bump,
With a look here and a look there
came she with a lump.
With a grouse here and a grouse there
came she with a stump.
With a force here and a force there
pushed she everything into a dump
With a frown here and a frown there
turned she her face in a grump.
With a fat here and fat there
appeared she plump.
With an adieu here and an adieu there
went she making all numb.
With children I am crazy.
I play with them brusquely..
I dance with them happily.
I jump with them wantonly.
I talk to
them sweetly.
I sleep with them lovingly.
Forgetting my age and size
I become one with them honestly.
Up on the hillock,
up on the grassy lock,
up over a marshy block,
up at the strike of the clock,
amidst a happy flock,
there was a lovely slot.
A dainty entry from the hills,
with a sharp bill,
with a sapphire fill,
calling in a voice shrill,
made its way in a drill,
it was an enticing dance.
The colourful feathers spread grand,
opened up like a canopy on a land,
throwing out shiny elegance in a brand,
the dense feathers enchanted the band,
it appeared as an action of a magic wand,
It created a trance.
.
The danseuse beckoned the gaiety of north,
it greeted the pleasantries of south,
it solicited the charm of west,
it bowed to the grace of the oriental east,
exhibiting a marvellous feat,
it was a concert best.
Hopping it went ahead,
jumping it trotted back,
elaborating it moved right,
accelerating it speeded left,
displaying a nimble footed treat,
it held everyone in toes.
Crooning goes round the peahen
singing tunes of love in tens,
kindling the peacock to dance in sevens,
enthralling the spectators to a rhapsodical events,
Good God! it was nothing but heavens,
it was a beautiful romance.
It is a sight to see the clouds gather.
They seem to dash against each other.
They attempt to pass over one another.
They are dark and bright all over.
The black clouds appear to jump over.
The bright ones seem to hover.
The dark clouds look full with moisture.
The bright clouds appear like fluffy flakes all over.
The moisture laden clouds try to fall as a shower.
The snow clouds instigate a stoppage as ever.
Which would triumph in the race as forever?
If the black one wins it is a boon to all whatsoever.
As it ushers copious rain and prosperity more so ever.
Meenas Poems 