Meenas Poems
Think for a while
quoth my mother in style
I was upset in a way
things have gone astray
Lo! my mother interrupts
her wisdom disturbs.
Have I been ever rash?
there I see a flash
It is but foolish
I had not spoken my wish
It is my silence all through
rash it is in terms true
quietness is an arrogance
considered also as an irreverence
Well! that is me through and through
always to myself without a clue
the same to those far and near
even to my mother so dear.
She calls me now and then over phone
brief she would talk at times
lengthy she would go most times
talking of events of past
telling of details present
all with precision abrupt.
She expects a listening patient
traces our distraction
offended she becomes at this juncture
shoots a retort in the quick
closes down the phone in anger
an act of rashness all the more.
She lives away from all friends and relatives
most do not wish to communicate with her
for fear of behaviour harsh
as she goes on with fiery swear and curse
breaking into sobs and cries loud
wretched she seems to be then.
Unless she mends her ways
none would renew 
the ties
her tempers always on the rise
unpredictable and scary
force even the closest to run away
poor lady she has to start anew.
Meenas Poems 