Meenas PoemsIt so happens in a day
that which should not happens
that which should happens not
could be a very different play
being one that has to depend
one on the other in a start
an anticipation goes on in a way
a disappointment rises up in a stay
well, that is how it happens
not only to me but to all.
Countries ban Christmas celebrations
one religion being against another
seems like a child’s quarrel with an innovation
blame one after a long time rather
religion is one’s faith and belief
interfere not in the individual’s life
let he have his own relief
the rejoice and enjoyment is his own strife
prohibiting him from this basic rights
seems to be a denial forthright.
It is a call I make
a call I take
a call I fake
a call for the sake
calls without a break
keep me in a stake
promote a shake
fathomless it is
inquisitive it appears
curious it stays
let it be of any magnitude
sholud 
be serene in attitude
Zeal turns into passion
passion into ambition
while ambition overwhelms
be a wish to rule the realm
the aspiration takes over
transforms into an obsession all over
while there deep into the center
the appetite becomes ravenous in genre
it takes over in a massive usurp
justifies itself in a strange deserve
the means is not important as found
the end surfaces in an abound.
Like to view
thousands of things in queue
without a cue
has been long overdue
keeps me in blue.
It is an up and down
as the swing goes
a moment it is joy
the next it is grief
a jubilation all through
could have been very true
but a setback sudden and quick
pushes one into the corner
this could be the life’s play
like the swing as I say
a rise up and up
a fall down and down
be the stride as seen
nothing could be foreseen.
Sundays are never dull
as I have the day in full
I sit and stand then and there
I read and write when and where
I eat and drink as much as I can
I bathe and dry up without a ban
I sleep and dream many a time in the span
I lie in my bed under the big fan
that be how I spend the day
the day being none other than a Sunday.
The rains play with me
so do the squirrels
as such both are up to pranks
they are mischievous and free
In the morning it was bright and sunny
I placed my carpets out in the open yard
the rains poured for a few minutes
I ran to save them in a manner funny.
Could be similar in the afternoon too
I lay on my bed looking through
the sun was cheerful and brilliant in tone
the rains poured and were torrential too.
The squirrel entered through the front door
I usually keep the door open all through
never did the squirrel made its way in
I have to firmly close the main door.
My dining room opens out to the garden
I watch the greenery around
the squirrel came through the entrance
the little one has become a burden.
The ways I am mocked through the day
seem not a few but too many
small incidents put me to task
well, life works out that way.
being away from the human race
could be a startling phase with a withdrawal
becomes a reward in itself without a chase
as humans lack the spirit and soul of humanity.
It is fun
to play with the gun
not nowadays
as terrorism is rampant
you would be not triumphant
could come under an arrest
without anyone’s behest
beware of the gun
it is no more fun.
Meenas Poems 