Meenas PoemsCould be not said of him
a good man once
now a deceit.
Could be not said of him
a man just once
now a sinner.
Could be not said of him
a man pleasant once
now a rude .
Could be not said of him
a man he had been once
now not one.
The disturbed man
disturbs all
with his feverish mind
and with his rash actions.
He shouts and cries
slams and slaps
dashes and bashes
overturns and overthrows.
It is hard to settle him
hard to make him realise
difficult to reconcile
and bring him back to normal.
At times we feel compassionate
most times we disdain him
for his distraughtness
an unpleasantness surrounds
The time to make much ado
the means to make much fuss
climbs up the ladder in a swing
becoming epicurean in every action
leave not epicure be alone for food
that be found in all fares
be it food or illness
whatever it might cause
getting it far beyond
makes it morbid and stale
that be the follow-up of many
be it large or small does not matter 
setting an unpleasant sequence
insisting on a not so distinctive relevance.
The evening was sultry and hot.
There was no breeze to cool out.
It was unpleasant all through.
While sitting heaving and puffing in the patio
Got calls from friends in a row.
Each one expressing a strain sad
Emphasizing the unkindness meted out.
The senior one wished to die
holding strongly destiny in her hands.
The other one cursed his siblings to a tragic death.
adorning himself in a prophetical garb.
The last one was in bad health.
Depression had taken its toll.
He had shed his snobbish pride,
Lo!looked demure and desolate,
The poor weakling wished nothing, cursed none,
He only longed for peace to return.
These added up to the heat around.
Making one to think and think aloud.
Finally found out that
Happiness is within ourselves
Not anywhere else.
Meenas Poems 