Meenas PoemsIt is ashtami
not good to me
she says all sad
why ? it is bad
I ask her with concern
she could not discern
she nods her head this way
then her head goes the other way
I stare at her for quite some time
she went on with her rhymes
ashtami is not good for me
being the one in a plea
superstition has gone deep
it has risen up steep
hard to shake her of the belief
being immersed into it without relief
I find my way out of it i in haste
as her thoughts are not to my taste.
She is out of her mind
speaks somewhat in a kind
a little astray perhaps
she is but a mishap
talks big of her all the same
great of her husband not to name
thinks she is beautiful all the more
mother of her likewise being four
walks now and then at random
paces up and down in tandem
dresses up in the most ill fitting attire
well, have to prop up her in a satire
as she behaves funny and quixotic
one could dub her as an eccentric
I would not address her so
as she is a way down that in the go
her gait being very peculiar
her forehead sees her nose all clear
her nose watches her mouth all foul
she speaks with a grunt and a howl
all being so in the real status as seen
she blinks and stares without a gleam
that be her in her late sixties
imagine her at the teens
a nice way to picture her with a feel
could you find a more entertaining deal.
He being Macbeth
walks mostly without any breath
fears the death.
Likewise the chaos happens
fieldwise the commotion strikes
streetwise the disturbance takes place
housewise the confusion occurs
otherwise the revolt would disappear
a revise of the eventuality on the edge.
He is a man of vile
a man of no style
who brags a lot
knows not the slot
nor could reach the spot
being invited for a mediation
happily accepts the solicitation
passes comment as if in a fraction
as he minces his words while he talks
while his voice is akin to a bark
none could find in him a spark
yet he pronounces his verdict
which bears no ethics.
Rains do come
a little and in excess
good to process.
Good to process
when they are in excess
way to conserve.
A way to conserve
store it in lakes and ponds
an old method.
An old method
being replaced by modern indifference
building on them.
Building on them
arrests the flow of water
results in floods
An excess be it rain or shine
could be a bane or a boon
could not be averted at any cost
it is nature’s way of dealing
a shortfall or an abundance
could spell a doom to mankind
all the more they could be prevented
a storage of surplus water in lakes and ponds
as well in dams and reservoirs be the usual terms
while the lakes and ponds are no where 
to be found
with universities and apartments growing over there
the flow of water enters the town and floods the roads
finds its way into the buildings and houses
carrying with it the dirt, rubbish, snakes and wasp
people raise a hue and a cry and bemoan
being their own folly as could be seen
yet they do not turn for the good in attempts
go about on their own accord after the havoc
memory being short and strange as all.
Being official
raid
inclusive of those who betrayed
private and public.
The climate provokes and ignites
people to an upheaval
drought for a period long incites
people to an upheaval
the failure of crops at the most
leads to a loss of revenue
leaves the people in a state almost
penniless in every venue
they agitate and fight among themselves
bloodshed and death results
not confined to their frontiers of their selves
they cross and commit acts at a behest
inflict killings and violence wherever they go
terrorism has taken its toll
could the climate be a reason as some think?
Bright day it is
little or no rain
lively it looks
beautiful in shine
a similarity in the mind
brilliant in perception
little or no illusions defined
being an exaltation
the environment plays a role
keeps the mind in good fold.
Meenas Poems 