Meenas Poems
Man excels in vile and vices,
His moves enunciate sizzling guises
His talks elaborate biting dices,
His motives deliver evil exercises
His remarks inflict bloody bruises,
His behaviour reflects strangling devices,
Breaking the most innocent to pieces,
Shattering the most gentle to glitches,
Forcibly dumping the most beautiful into horrible ditches.
There was a terrible congestion,
As cars and buses got stuck,
There lay a heavily loaded truck,
Upside down creating an obstruction.
Drivers honked in impatience,
Time was flying in hectic speed,
Vehicles crowded in terrific lead,
There arose a commotion indeed,
Marking an unheard discordance.
If at all there had been a flyover,
Smooth passage would take over,
Delay would not be bothersome all over,
Installing a transit wherever,
Facilitating ease and comfort moreover.
It was a near death,
It was an accident,
While blood gushed out in torrence
Bones ripped off into pieces,
He was dying.
Passers went to and fro,
As he lay uncared on the road,
At last a man ,a man ,really
Took him to the hospital,
Remained unnoticed until he revived..
It was a fresh lease of life,
It was like living again,
Needless to say he thanked the man,
The good man remains unknown,
His deed will talk about him.
Defying Nature is irreverence,
Beware Of nature’s wrath
Destroying Nature is transgression,
Fear Nature’s fury,
Deriding Nature is sacramental,
Keep away from Nature’s anger.
Nature has its own way,
Care and destruction occur in a sway,
Remitting a fondle and a raid,
Extending an embrace and a tirade,
Holding up the righteous and good,
Deleting the indecorous and bad.
Nature has its own way,
Dealing with ailments in a fray,
A leaf dispels upsets in a quickness,
A shrub dismisses pain in a raciness,
A bark disproves strain in a firmness,
Curing all setbacks without a suspense.
Nature has its own way,
Revenging the teasers in a day,
Ravages the land with indignation,
As it enacts a river’s spate,
As it fumes into a volcanic irate
As it devours all
in a stormy agitate
Whispers are noisy too,
When everything is still,
The rustling leaves do whisper,
As the wind blows in a gentle fill,
The flowing streams do whisper,
As the water gushes in thrill,
The peeping Sun does whisper,
As the day dawns in shrill,
The bowing trees do whisper,
As the breeze blows in frill,
The dangling flowers do whisper,
As they dance to the melody in drill,
The little child does whisper,
As it hears the lullaby to a will,
Whispers do keep us bound,
As they go through all rounds.
A signboard over there,
Stands in the thorough fare,
Pointing to the directions ,
With meticulous care.
The passers move about ,
Not paying heed without doubt,
Taking on their own float,
Amidst the deafening shout.
The board is in a sullen solitude,
Performing its duty in an aptitude,
Withstanding the commotion with fortitude,
Least expecting a fruitful gratitude.
Time tested rules get lost,
While materialistic pursuit overtakes thought,
Everything flares up in a shot,
As none assume the principled slot.
Undue irreverence to doctrines
Unnatural turn of tailspin,
Unwanted alliance to illegitimate wins.
Cause a senseless down spins.
Sign board is a pointer,
A follow-up is a rejoinder,
Principles provide a frontier,
A solemn adherence grants a protector..
Can we not think about others?
Can we not feel for others?
Can we not help others?
Can we not love others?
Can we not ,can we not?
The heart cries with a vibrance.
Is it not sad to see a flower wither?
Is it not painful to look at a tree rot?
Is it not desperate to view a parched earth?
Is it not wrenching to watch an animal suffer?
Is it not frustrating to witness a man die?
Is it not , is it not?
The heart wails with despair.
Do everyone feel the same manner?
Do all experience the same way?
Do most pass through same passage?
Do the majority go through the cycle?
Do they ,do they?
The heart mourns in anguish
A little consideration takes you a long way,
A little patience leads you to 
happiness,
A little feeling brings in joy
A little love endorses a loveliness,
A little , A little,
The mind cheers up the heart.
Heard a smashing noise ,
A violent slash it was,
Thud ,thud it sounded,
Lo , there was a bang,
A loud squeak emanated,
A sharp shriek was heard,
There was a blast,
A fall ,a collapse resulted,
The beautiful tree came down,
It tumbled flat on the ground,
A sordid sight indeed!
A ghastly scenario really!
A terrible blow truly!
A vicious strike exactly!
Finally a miserable fall absolute.
That which stood royal an hour ago,
Lies down biting the dust poorly now,
That which yielded fruits and nuts,
Is a mound of rubbish at present,
That which gave shade and strength,
Relays a heap of broken twigs now,
That which was a cynosure to all eyes,
Seems like an eyesore now,
That which was a thing of beauty,
Looks like an empty distraction now,
Illustrating the transitoriness,
Underlining the fleeting of life,
Denoting the impermanence,
Yes, anything born has to die.
It is a grand place forsaken ,
Countered by hot and arid weather,
A glimpse of the ruins lying in mounds,
Grips the heart to an untold melancholic sound..
The ornate and frescoes lay exposed,
Scorching sun and dusty wind damage,
Intermittent rains and unmindful use destroy,
The massive structures look weird and poor like a broken toy.
The lovely porches and patios,
Once avenues of hospitality and gaiety
Stand as remnants of past glory,
Covered with mites and insects in a hurry.
The courtyards long and extensive,
Once a hotspot of revelry and weddings,
Remain as ghosts of their self in hay days,
Encouraging a growth of moss and shrubs in a lay.
The doors with elaborate designs,
Speak volumes of the happenings ,
Now stay shut under lock and key,
Effacing the memories of the mighty deed in a flee.
The huge heavy gigantic keys,
Made a clatter while opening the doors,
Now rarely seen as there are none,
Wishing to get in and out for fun.
The pillars of wood and stone,
Exhibit colours blue ,brown and black,
Seem to talk about the rich heritage,
In a tone mild succumbing to the ravage.
The locked mansions remain in dark,
They hold large wealth behind the doors,
Enticing the thugs to loot the bounty
Leaving the rightful owner in penury.
The land is a home to philanthropists
Its speciality is food and culture,
The marvellous relics are now ruins,
Casting a disenchantment and despair fluent.
Put your hands in the glowing fire,
Place your feet in the freezing ice,
Relax yourself over a bed of thorns,
Walk in ease through a slippery plain,
Sit comfortably on a heap of rubbish,
Eat with content food without taste
Drink fondly a nectar bitter,
See lovingly a picture frightful.
Hear unswervingly a sound blaring,
Listen attentively to talk senseless,
Read intensely a story terrible,
Undertake effortlessly a journey tiring,
Is it possible?
Keep me Posted.
Meenas Poems 