Meenas PoemsHe grumbles
all the time
with a long face and pouting lips
finding fault for no reason or rhyme
he murmurs and scolds without any tips
that being his behaviour all times
he is shunned by most in all slips.
Nurturing a vengeance over everyone
irrespective of their stature or standing
he spits venom barring none
worsening the relationship to a breaking
always cursing having no fun
a ruthless wicked man in the run.
Sobbing she fell into his arms.
h
er sobs became a loud cry
it went high up the air
broke all decibel
as she fainted falling down.
He, being callous, as could be
left her as such unconscious
down on the ground flat and forsaken
moved away fast from the blessed place.
She lay half dead on the ground for hours
not recovering from the shock
almost frozen like an ice Berg
while her body became cold
her heart beat fast
breaking all the norms
as if ready to jump out
and run behind him
as now she wanted nothing more
but to strangle him to death.
There he shoots.
Is it to runaway with a boot?
Or else to enter into a loot?
Much more to unplug the root.
More so to express hatred in a hoot.
Nay it is to kill the devotees in a sudden shoot.
Drastically to kill kids in an unexpected offshoot.
Thus introducing a bloody route.
Indeed the deal is beyond compute.
The aftermath is chronically acute.
Please, call him a wicked brute.
Meenas Poems 