Meenas PoemsThe rap and the dance
the drums and the chance
rant the sky with a trance
glued to the pageant I watch
they throw and catch
I sit amidst the din
the sound emanates from a tin
rock and rock they go
down and down they bow
what is it all about?
I am an odd man out.
noise once again rises high
exasperated, I sigh
this way it goes for long
I could hear no song
only sounds in an yell
Luckily I could hear the bell
Gosh ! the program comes to an end
I make my way out negotiating a bend
It was a tapping
know not from where
It was a rapping
know not from where
it was a slapping
know not who did it.
It was a strapping
know not how they did it.
it was a beating
know not how severe it was.
It was a thrashing
know not to what degree.
It was defeating
know not how much it would be.
It was a struggle
known to all fully well.
There was a squeak at the door.
It was a bird at the door.
It pecked on the door.
It was a rap. rapping on the door.
The noise, then slowed down to the core.
It looked strange more and more.
The bird stopped tapping at the door.
It moved away from the door.
It then rose up in a soar.
It flew high up in the fore.
It looked familiar more and more.
Meenas Poems 