Meenas PoemsOne at a time
called the teacher
none did listen
went on in a chorus.
One at a time
called the teacher again
none paid attention
being a boisterous lot.
One at a time
called the teacher finally
a missed call however
none did obey her.
So are the teachers looked upon
shout they as much as they can
not be effective in the round
create not a stir among their ward.
One comes after another
if all comes together
it would be rather
a stuck up in the corner
happens sometimes not ever
besieged by issues altogether
unexpected and sudden rather
before resolving the first one for sure
comes the other in a speed in a refer
involving into the new one a little slower
barges in the third one seeking shelter
tackled carefully one after another
know not how I came out without a shiver
still the hurt lingers within whatsoever.
a
It is a strike back
not a bashful one
not a slap for that one
but a hurt on the one
a scar on the one
that could mar the one
disintegrate the one
shatter the one
destroy the one
that be the on the face
he has for all in one
the only one
anyone can have.
.
I
t is but another one
nothing special about that one
as the case might be in an one
be it a marriage or a birthday
or be it a dinner or tea on that day
it is like but another one
It is another one in a tone
a replica of the previous one
no matter who is the host
not that who proposes the toast
could be grand or simple in a way
the end is the same on all events.
That be the call of everyone
a celebration is but one
where the flashy and modesty crosses
where the excess and moderate intercepts
a show of wealth is not the essence.
That be the take of all in a bound
as it is imperative and sound
an introspection would reveal at length
the validity of humility and its strength
anyway it is nothing but another one.
It was an afternoon
with a sleep all too soon
sat on to work with accounts
went mostly wrong in all counts.
One, two, three I counted diligently
skipped the four inadvertently
added up the credit and debit together
could not tally both altogether.
To fight sleep with a power
I quickly had a shower
came I fresh on to my work again
settled into the pattern of gain.
Did I say gain? that be in a hurry
it was profit and loss both wary.
I fumbled and struggled totally
Accounts are never my ally.
Abandoning the accounts I slept
sound as ever in great depth
came the numbers one, two and three
enough to
nag me in a spree.
Liars go with an easy flow
telling lies in the go
not one or two
uttering many a lie high and low
wrapping the details slow
elaborating them quickly 
with a know
that be their skill in the row
hitting all with a blow.
I be not excited
says he
I be not thrilled
says she
they be not interested
I say
having been through all the days
one be not with the other
the other be always against the one
there be no understanding
just a fight in between
that makes one tired
and the other bored
so they find no excitement
nor any adventure
as they see only con
troversy
leading to nothing
One Malaysia they say with pride
is it worth the ride?
Malays,in their country
get through with all concessions.
Chinese with their business brain
go through with less strain
Indians with their hard work
reach not near the top .
The three races still go on
have their own identity to an extent
living in areas best suited for them
mixing up with the youth picking relations
converting to the religion out of necessity
as to keep up the pace of harmony
but still there remains a divide
very discreet and very phenomenal
that could be keenly felt
and faintly experienced
Yet, Malaysia pulls on
not on policies great
but on the unity of the races
which had lived for centuries together.
Meenas Poems 