Meenas PoemsSpeeding fast the highway
the cars go through all the way
with a brisk and with a fast remit
mindless of the prescribed limit
the cameras set on points
capture the speeders at all joints
be it in corners,,turns, morning or night
put them in a situation tight
not all at once as they are bound
at an interval of few days in the round
charge them a hefty sum
the drivers pay the fee handsome
speed past the highway as usual
they take the summon casual 
I
t is an experience
you could call it an adventure
happens to me with an intense
may come to you as a venture
what could it be?
you might wonder
it does not demand a fee
I fully surrender
it is not nocturnal
it is all time
not found in any journal
it would cost you a dime
it is never in your hand
success takes you off your head
you lose yourself when you see that wand
think you could make impossible to move ahead
could seem very much within the grasp
all of a sudden, it slips from your hold
the let down would sting you like a wasp
you would freeze and become cold
have in mind that you are being watched
you are, after all, a human
always in the verge of being knocked
Life is a travel
it is a marvel
could be a shrivel
anything on the level
a hype here with a sensitivity
a type there with a placidity
all call for a plausibility
that one makes out of life
spans some eighty more in strife
with words pointed like knife
insinuates a disharmony
with behaviour moderate
evolves 
a feel considerate
all depends on the way we go
so we reap that we sow.
The night of darkness
the day of brightness
premonitions in stay
the restless mind
sees both with fear
night foretells death
day predicts breath
death is terrific
no man wishes to face
it is inevitable though,
breath is diabolic
no man wants to resume
it is indispensable though
Thus, go the night and day
with the sun and the moon
one hot and the other cold
the waves go up and down
the wind blows gentle and fierce
the oscillation is in a variance
yet life goes on like the stream
with ripples and furore
all in unity, 
therefore.
The shift is on once again
how am I to negotiate?
I deliberate in vain
as I sigh with a renunciation
let me be in one place
not want to be in a chase
whatever be the case
I prefer not to live in phase.
That will not be I know
so I go with the tide
I have become very slow
anyhow I have to abide
With the bags on my back
I walk on to the flight
my mind gives up the fight
I find myself in the same track
How long will have I to live so?
I really do not know.
I
Erratic it is everywhere
the weather is so
floods inundate
snowy blizzards overtake
drought dampens
winds overwhelm
that be for nature.
Come past by the countries
planes disappear for long
innocent school children killed
men held hostage in a cafe
passerby falls a prey to a bomb
a toddler guns down his parents
what could be more hazardous?
Where does the world go?
Does it go North or South?
Why such gruesome deeds happen?
what makes nature behave so bad?
I question, you interrogate
we introspect and end up
with Humpty Dumpty’
All the kings men could not put
Humpty Dumpty together again
The baby cries
soon as it is born
perhaps it is a dawn
the peace is gone
nine months inside the womb
cosy and comfortable
now into the world of gloom
ugly and terrible
the rotation of the baby
on her own axis
made her smile like a Barbie
the doll in practise
a lovely one fashionable
now into the world of reality
she has to turn reasonable
as the people around are guilty
hurl stones at each other
throw looks of spite and jealousy\
easily inflict on one another
though with a semblance of ingenuity
that be the world the baby has to face
that be the place where she has to live
has to negotiate with the nuances in a chase
lest she would not be able to thrive.
Turn the table
a categorical expression
means a lot if thought intense.
Table is turned
a convenience literally
the space and the wish matters.
Table is turned
a convenience in a way
shift the blame and game with ease.
Turn the table
with a bang strong
you win though in a wrong.
Turn the table
with a tact smart
again you win the game subtly.
Turn the table
with deceit and anger
you might win the game thereto.
Turning the table
holds you not for long
as your treachery surfaces slowly.
A moral we learn
a literal turn is yours,
no issue
a planned turn lets you down.
The truth sustains
never will it see death
lives through 
forever
There is no food for the child
no clothes enough for the child
stands bare bodied the little child
the hair lies dishevelled on the child
the eyes send a pain from the child
the thin hands of the poor child
hesitantly comes forward in steps mild
extends her hand slowly to the passersby, poor child
pierces the heart with a stab though in a hide
then the girl carrying a child
knocks at the car windows for a while
those in the car drive her wild
wipes her tears with no shy
walks back to make another try
her mother is about to die
poor girl, she could not muster a pie.
Meenas Poems 