Meenas PoemsGreat become any when the die.
Death honours them so well.
Their trespasses get buried down.
Their shortcomings go down into the pit.
Their deceit gets burned away by flames.
M
any have the habit saying
that the dead are Gods
blessing us from where they are.
Rejuvenating the mind
refreshing the body
relaxing in a couch
reading a book
redefining life
rediscovering truth
reinforcing faith
recalling belief
reinstating cheer
refurbishing the old
recasting the synergy
reinstalling the energy
reuniting the divisive
resuming 
the hope
recovering the lost
resembling the divine
goes the world
in a reinventing motion.
With a long face
and anger in the eyes
pointing the fingers
pouting the lips
the lady started
her harangue
admonishing some
punishing a few
appreciating none
piling praises
on herself and herself alone.
Then she walked grandly
totally blind
to her faults
of respecting none
performing more than bad
in all her endeavours.
W
The world is going ga,ga.
Over nothing ha, ha.
The baby is calling ma, ma.
Not reporting to pa, pa.
The protesters raise a ho ho.
Over issues that indicate a lo,lo.
The singer sings at the top of the pitch la,la.
Modulating his voice at the middle
.
The vehicles honk beep, beep.
They try to negotiate the traffic deep, deep.The farmer heads on to his field to reap, reap.
He cuts the stalk and piles them in heap,heap.The rich amass wealth in tonnes,tonnes.
Their life style stuns, stuns.The poor slog all through life,life.
Alas! they are destined to a miserable strife, strife.
unaware of the chaotic crash.
The bus was on a joy ride
carrying five passengers alone in a side.
It was a late hour in the night.
The girl was taken by fright.
as thee men knocked her male companion unconscious
She was gang raped brutally noxious.
Leaving her half dead almost.
She lay on the roadside pathetic
Her intestines peeped out tragic.
Medical world was left in a dilemma
as she was suffering from severe oedema.
An uproar tore Delhi into pieces.
Casting the governance into seizures.
The medical intern fought vainly
Finally she died a death ghastly.
Leaving the world to pine eternally.
A message it was
spreading peace and love.
A message it was
calling for unity and understanding.
A message it was
intending to bring cheer and comfort.
A message it was
inviting good will and harmony.
A message it was
rendering help and assistance.
A message it was
looking out for happiness and joy.
A message it was
proclaiming victory and triumph.
A message it was
expressed in poetic felicity.
sent across during New year’s eve.
A message that wishes
an unflinching attention.
A message that seems
to be a gospel.
A message that pronounces
truth and reverence.
A message that reverberates
all throughout.
The world still moves on.
There was a sunrise in the morn.
There are many new-born.
The horses neigh in the barn.
The birds sing in the dawn.
The earth revolves around.
There is a lot of sound.
People walk around.
There seems to be no bound.
As all things are in order in the ground.
There is no sign of devastation.
Not even a specific exasperation.
It is but a regular situation
where there is liveliness in elaboration.
Easing out all tensions in a quick invigoration
It is only two days more.
The world would be no more.
So goes the talk all the more.
Sending signals of warning more and more.
Creating a terrible fear to the core.
Nothing is to be expected for sure.
Nothing would happen for sure.
So say all with a belief sure.
Dispelling the gravity with an assure.
Assuaging the feelings with a grace ever.
Which almanac says so?
It is the Mayan calendar that tells so.
Would that be so?
Ask everyone with a sigh in a flow.
It is a definite no say the scientists with a glow.
It was a search.
Beyond the torch.
It was a start.
Far away in a sort.
It looked ahead.
Away from the tread.
Mind you it is near.
And it is very dear.
The work is round the clock.
It goes smooth without a block.
It is lively beyond the lock.
It is diligently enrolled into a flock.
Thoughts go round and round the clock.
They gather strongly through the rock.
They never assume a deriding mock.
They oscillate stealthily in a tick tock.
They drive towards a legitimate dock.
The results show publicly round the clock.
Some signify a joyous stock.
Some also denote a sad stalk.
They propose an acceptance without a shock.
They incessantly revolve round the entire talk.
The world is governed by the clock.
Actions occur in an ad hoc.
The living is through an interlock.
Disaster creeps in when anything goes anti clock.
A facile move instills a glorious knock.
Meenas Poems 