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?
He remains uncrowned
with the bags full of treasure and riches
looked upon with respect by all in his town
that be one of his public life .
He remains a broken man
with the bags full of woes and disappointments
finds himself unrelated in his own family
that be his private life.
A juxtaposition could he bring forth?
the public and the private enter a conflict
would he try to equate and balance both?
that could possibly turn into a disaster.
Straight as a ruler
she stands
all erect and stiff
not only in appearance
she is the same
in her character
straightforward in talk
bold in expression
fine in terms
charming in countenance
a straight lady
erect and tall.
Mother’s Day calls
what a fanfare they create
hugs and kisses all profuse
gifts of kinds expensive and memorable.
I sit with amusement
had been a mother for long
no calls for me yet
means my sons do not think of me
I do not fret.
I wish not to be thought of
I am fine and would be so
a call will not change
as the three of them talk to me
with immense love and utmost care.
They find nothing special
being a Mother’s Day or any other.
well, that is good and beautiful
seeing them healthy and wealthy
makes me ever happy.
Being a stitch
I am refurbishing
redoing all my poems
honing and polishing
what all I have written
could go through a process
where repetition and corrections
would stretch too far
creating a sensation of monotony
I wrote my poems as it came to my mind
most are raw straight from the heart
underwent no dressing, no arrangements
a random write in a rambling
the process has started
bear with me all through.
Longtime it was, I remember
lived in a place without any tremor
I chose the place in the surround
where there was no inhabitation in and around
I had the eternity all to myself.
I could hear the wind blow
swishing sounds in the flow
heard the birds chatter and tweet
woke me up early with their beats
no noise whatsoever unrhythmical.
This could not be long in the days
came developments in a chase
houses came in different phases
low, middle, and high income in a pace
I sit amidst a township now.
Feel jostled and disturbed in the run
I contemplate on the turn
shift, should I to some other place
if there be an exodus soon in case
where to go? I stroke my forehead.
Whatever I attempt it turns opposite
to fund a new purchase have to break the deposit
I knit my eyebrows in a deliberate
nothing strikes me straight
I could not sit in peace for long.
As I brood over the situation
I am woken up by the distractions
the traffic on the road and the loud honking
thwarted my peace instigating
a fall from the level of sanity for a while.
Grass grows
on roadsides
on all waysides
needs little water
grows in abundance
green and lush .
Over and above
it looks lovely
when manicured
the roadsides
and waysides
have a dignity.
It is mere grass
treat not always
with contempt
adds
to the roadsides
and waysides
absolute charm.
Reblogged from poesyon.blogspot.com
Nature’s fury
as seen in every
fire, floods, and quakes
all not moderate takes
they show an excessive
be it fire it is incisive
the case of floods it is a deluge
quakes being a devastation huge
what could be the reason?
one says it is a vengeance
nature turns on with a resurgence
another attributes to the end of the world
recaptures the “Noah of Arc” in words
the beliefs are too many to contest
have to address the issue in just
would we do it in earnest?
well, that becomes a difficult test.
The fire in Fort Mc Murray
Meenas Poems 