Meenas PoemsTraffic to the website
comes from every side
it might at times slide
also might at times 
glide
yet remains with the tide
as we go on the ride
and have to abide
by the rules, besides
they might also hide
and come out in sight
with the trace very light
a botheration that keeps tight
well, that is how it goes about right.
There goes a crane
which stands on the lane
seems to be a bane
as the traffic is held up
with the engines in the start-up
grunting in a low sound tup lup ,tup lup
the crane seems not to move even a little
as its parts have become worn out and brittle
the passers-by do not want to settle
there for a long time stuck up in the traffic
they try to find means to move out of the peak
could not trace any little way in the freak
they get impatient and start to mumble
pulling their face long and they start to grumble
well, to their good fortune the crane started in a fumble
pushing out lot of fumes and froth all very dark
then gave a jerk and went ahead with a bark
there came an end to the temporary stagnation i
n the track.
The drying yard looked parched
the washed clothes quickly dried
the pathway was horribly hot
the man stood there all caught
not in the rain that drenched
but under the sun that scorched
pivoted to the centre of the road
with cars on either side of the board
he could not move hastily all the way
creeping and negotiating through possible ways
he half burnt and more or less dead
reached home and flung on his bed
totally dehydrated and almost panting
as his wife rushed to him worrying
fed him with lot of plain water and juice
which relieved him from the bruise
resulting out of excessive heat .
Traffic bids a congestion
when seen in a thoroughfare
where vehicles move inch by inch
causing a chaotic commotion
and a delay in motion .
Traffic seen through differently
when they come in flow to a blog
where they assume importance
assuring a popularity great
and a readership valuable.
The same stream going through
with the inflow causing a stagnancy
at one part of the schedule physically
while the similar one creating a buoyancy
in another scheme in a sense abstract.
Traffic thus sensitises the world
calling for attention and disturbance
whatever it might proclaim
literally a pull out from the normalcy
either in the increase or decrease.
It was a quiet day.
Is it a Sunday?
None walked down the street all day.
No cars hooted during the course of the day.
Nothing to diffuse the serenity of the day
except the rustling of leaves in the alley,
humming a melodious tune to the breezy wave.
No other thing to distract the quietness
except the murmuring of the river with an eagerness
repeating the flow in a sequential liveliness,
None the less the day passed on untainted.
The day folded naturally without being garishly painted.
The serenity released a sombre feeling much awaited
There is a big roundabout,
Down the lane,
Vehicles go round it ,
To change directions en route.
There is another roundabout,
Down the speech,
Talks go about,
To change directions incomprehensible.
There is one more roundabout,
Down the thoughts,
Ideas trace out,
To change directions irrationally.
There is still one more roundabout,
Down the merry-go-round,
Happiness runs through ,
To change directions gleefully.
Roundabouts are for safety,
The circular junctions ,
Cautioning the vehicles to slow down,
To follow the traffic sign
Roundabout is a way of expression,
In a circular movement,
Beating round the bush,
To get out from the core.
Roundabout is also a sort of imagination,
In circular dreams,
Clasping with wild entice,
To diffuse in a frenzy.
Roundabout is also a kind of joy,
In circular motions,
Going round and round,
To enjoy with cheer.
Meenas Poems 