Meenas PoemsA three letter word
could be any word
like to write as many
being them so tiny
starts with a Cat
goes on to mat, rat
down to sad, bad
a cross over there
a jump over here
could lead to a nod
do not call me a bard
I am but a genial one
knows only this one
very much on own
not so much as won.
It was an afternoon
with a sleep all too soon
sat on to work with accounts
went mostly wrong in all counts.
One, two, three I counted diligently
skipped the four inadvertently
added up the credit and debit together
could not tally both altogether.
To fight sleep with a power
I quickly had a shower
came I fresh on to my work again
settled into the pattern of gain.
Did I say gain? that be in a hurry
it was profit and loss both wary.
I fumbled and struggled totally
Accounts are never my ally.
Abandoning the accounts I slept
sound as ever in great depth
came the numbers one, two and three
enough to
nag me in a spree.
It was too early
three in the morning
sleeping soundly with no dreams fairly
with the night still intense and dark ranging
got a call from an unknown land
the ring going on for a minute in length
a long one breaking the stillness in a disband
reluctantly got up from the bed without strength
answered the call still sleepy and eyes closed
could not identify the caller with a force
who spoke of publishing in detail notes
knowing not what she was telling in course
politely told her it is too early for me
both to listen and respond exactly
with that my sleep bade farewell
leaving me lie down looking at the ceiling dreadfully.
With my sons living far away
with the timings in a stray
one might be getting up with the morn
the other would be retiring in a worn
whilst the third be involved in work all through
as a mother I make no calls in true
fearing I would distract them
and really disturb them
but wait in anxiety to hear their voice
a day without talking leaves me with no choice
as there surrounds a gloom and a worry
while my heart pounds with a query
as how they are getting on in distant lands
hoping they are well without any difficult stands
so the day passes on the whole
dull and dim, moving without a goal
Well, that has become my routine nowadays
eagerly looking out for their return in a gaze.
Recollecting the days when I was a young mother
with three little boys catching my apron
always behind me to places wherever I go
all very reluctant to go to school
when the day dawns each one would come with an excuse
one saying his hands are aching
the other coming out with a leg pain
while the last one would simply cry loudly
This had been my daily take off
while my second one pretty imaginative
one day came out with a peculiar strain
saying all of a sudden that his face is paining
having exhausted all pains and aches he landed on this
a very strange phenomenon and quaint excuse
Suppressing my smile I asked him
how could a face on the whole give pain
he burst forth with a vigour that shook me
finally had to yield to his pleadings
without any more interrogation.
Meenas Poems 