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 