Meenas Poems
It was a beautiful red flower in full bloom.
It was a pleasing red .
It was a lovely red.
It was a cheerful red.
It was not angry red.
It was not fiercely red.
It was not dangerously red.
It beckoned with a grace.
It reckoned with a poise.
It depicted a welcome choice.
It portrayed a smiling face.
The red flower’s charm lasted a day.
The red colour faded the next day.
The next morn it drooped down dead on the ground grey.
Words do have meaning.
They possess feelings.
They issue commands.
They are never to be broken.
Word is the essence of talk.
It enhances the speech.
It adds to the charm
It lifts up the pride.
Words are not playthings.
None can play and push it apart.
None can talk and ignore.
None can spell and forget.
Word catches up like fire.
It lasts longer than fire.
It hurts more than burns .
The resultant wound never heals.
A word is a promise.
It has an idealistic value.
It has a classic significance.
Its claims are lofty and tall.
An irresponsible word destroys sobriety.
An irrational word hampers harmony.
A harsh word dampens decorum.
A rude word damages the cordiality.
Word needs a careful address.
It requires a soft semblance.
It reflects one’s personality.
It speaks about one’s dignity.
Be careful with your terms.
Be cautious with your speech.
Be polite in your talk.
Above all, be definite in your word.
This one seems so lively and lovely,
That one looks very great and grave.
The other one appears big and bash
Yet all are found together,
In a holy trinity.
The soft petal unfolds,
The silky shine raptures,
The colourful throw captures,
The eyes of those who behold.
The fragrance invariably spreads,
The charm slowly entices,
The sweetness quickly enriches,
All delicious threads.
Its span of life is short,
Its memory is long,
The experience got is lifelong,
Lingering always in thought.
The little flowers beautifully invigorate
Their loveliness endlessly entrances
So does the child’s delicate stance
Induces a melody elaborate.
The little ones sharp crying,.
Its delicious lisping sounds,
Its toothless smiles bounds,
All to a warm coaxing.
The child’s delightful odour fills up,
Its interrupted cries trigger lowly
Its tiny eyes flicker slowly,
Extolling a pleasure high up.
Holding the child to the bosom,
Delivers a feeling infectious,
Renders an unexplainable bliss religious,
Akin to that of espying a flower blossom.
Meenas Poems 