Meenas Poems
The cupid’s arrow
it not fit the bow
it passed very low
very much far below .
The arrow of Cupid
came so rapid
it hit the stupid
not affected a little bit.
The arrow was shot
did not work anything hot
it created a clot
the effort went rot.
Cupid laid down his weapon
the world became a dampen
love could not be seen anywhere
became an orphan without care.
A breeze swept by
laden with a moist
that be usual you say
this be with a fragrance
most unusual I say.
A whiff of fresh air
struck the face
that be usual you say
this be with an aroma
most unusual I say.
A wind with moist brings rain
the most familiar version
a wind with fragrance entices
the most familiar diction
a wind with aroma enchants
the most familiar distinction.
So, there goes the breeze in a speed
strikes the face never with a greed
smothers with a love infinite
kisses with an affinity definite
an enjoyment is there in stock
exhilarates the entire flock.
The little white flower
tiny and pure in colour
fragrant in odour
grown in my garden
the flowers are densely laden
buds innumerable in a bound
know not which abound
the leaf all green and shiny
dwarfed by the flower’s beauty
seem to be sullen and quiet
the buds shoot out in a cluster
illumine the environ with a luster
an aroma spreads all over
makes one to step out and hover
a breathe in and out could favour
the lungs with a great ease
while the nose inhales the fresh lease
the rejuvenation of the system is on the go
a pleasure of a magnitude to all around
a treasure of great dimension to the surround
the tiny flower known as Jasmine to the world
better known as “Madurai Malli” in Tamil words.
Friendless and foeless
he lives in a land remote
knows none that much
a quiet life as such.
Not bothersome or worrisome
he lives in a land remote
all to himself as much
a quiet life as such.
Graceful and wonderful
he lives in a land remote
with poise as much
a quiet life as such.
Never inquisitive nor a detective
he lives in a land remote
with no curiosity as much
a quiet life as such.
Trouble free and carefree
he lives in a land remote
with no burden as much
a quiet life as such.
Long be it
had been in a bit
think it fits.
Long be that
had been in a flat
hope it stands.
Long be there
could have been a where
none to care.
Long be here
might sound to be dear
nothing more near.
A lively chat with an eleven year old
he being from a country cold
about the class work he did
could be of a different bid
as I am from a land of rote.
the grades depend on what you wrote.
He told me of his projects myriad
a story to write first in the period
his imagination rode on a fancy
goes he to Amazon forest in a fantasy
saw an animal huge and gigantic
the boy was lost in a reverie .
Left him in the Amazon forest for a while
his descriptions were in a beautiful style
the thick dark forest seemed gloomy
the soil underneath was foamy
the trees had very big trunks
would facilitate an easy bunk.
The Amazon forests came to be in live
I have not seen nor he not in a belie
his vivid depiction kept me glued
he proceeded with the narration unmoved
would turn out to be a master story teller
confident his performance would be one of a stellar.
A feel not to mingle with others
being an unopposed dominance
lets not me to become familiar.
It could be a strange one as such
could explain nothing more to it
lets me to remain to myself.
The thought, of keeping aloof and alone ,
could have descended from my ancestors
lets me to live apart from the rest.
Trace I back to my roots in a while
could not find anybody to that style
lets me to stay away from the others.
Not possible to get back to the one of ages
I come back to the days of recent
lets me to rest within myself .
Came I closer to my days of yesteryears
could finally locate the kind in my mother
lets me to withdraw from the world.
The likeness could be similar in ways
no better could a daughter be than the mother
lets me to behave like the mother almost.
The tumult was great
there was a drum like beat
not with a great sound
being one of very meagre
mild it was in tenor
went on for long
could it be a preamble ?
a prelude to the rains.
A big anticipation it could be
the rains play a trick
seem to come in a torrential pour
they make all attempts to come down
could sense a prevention from somewhere
the rains halt for a while and stay unassumingly
wonder would they ever come or not
did not descend till the day ended.
Such could be the expectations elsewhere
a disappointment would follow if it does not happen
let us not hold to whimsical values as such
not worth a tuppence all the more in particular
live not with any wish as the case might be
sail with a tide as it flows never go against
could lead to a catastrophe untold
learn this mantra with a full heart.
Let me not dwell on man’s idiosyncrasies
they change when and how I know not
let me harp around Nature’s delicacies
they remain where and how I know not .
Man shifts his talk and responsibilities
he shifts when and how I know not
Nature sticks to its character and expression
it adheres where and how I know not.
His tongue wags on all sides as it suits
he feigns when and how I know not .
Nature behaves with a focus in steady
it decides where and how I know not.
Man and Nature live together in amity
there be a lot of distinctions between them
one lives through with distrust and distraught
the other exists through with credibility and exuberance.
An annoying sound
a honk, a bell, else
being time bound.
A honk deafening
at the most silent hour
lets no refund.
A jarring bell
at the most quiet time
delivers a tremble .
Be the situation
not the sound in itself
renders a devastation.
Meenas Poems 