Poems by Meena Nanda

I dreamt yesterday

a poem by

Meena Nanda

I dreamt and saw that Atal
made me a drink
and I became immortal.

A committee of hi-fi hormones
set-up for unusual change of bones
Scientists were annoyed for unknowns.

Rejuvenated heart saw light
perishing cultures awakened
blood moved to path all right

A brain ordered driven stomach
rested after he conquered, ruled
Europe and fell.

I have an Atom to play on Scientists.
I may play before the Almighty God
shouts on Me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hell’s Depth

a poem by

Meena Nanda

In tempestuous morning in the early June
when sun is sometimes less in its bloom
before the monsoon flowers in bud
when dreams start dreaming of
A storm that rage inside the home.

A always crowded happening house became haunting
as if the spirit of devils lead the fighting
the irresistible desires of Hell’s Depth
won inviting after battled heights up.

A fake pleasurable fact to brain was induced
found adrifting to face the world indeed
there are no short-cuts or super speed
the Natural mind lighting power what you need

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Award

a poem by

Meena Nanda

No where on earth for reservation they stood
They were hit hard for power at play
They massed up as said for good
They have no work to show and say

Great people do great things
And they are dividing to win
Through the sinful streets of politics
They will be known for low tricks

Sweetheart though your heart and brain were working high
But better you stitch shoe and don’t ask why
Or fulfill your dreams there the nation abroad
Where serving will get you award.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sacrificed Today

a poem by

Meena Nanda

The enormous roar
of agitation by young’s
the emotional and anxiety upheaval
on the road.
Reservation for progress
to bonsai a big tree
The lust of power-planners
sacrificed today
by the stroke on genius
a police lathe.
Before a doc’ he was a poet.
Anyhow caught in riots.

Talent or poverty is not the issue
the rest is all true.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Change

a poem by

Meena Nanda

Things are changing rapidly
Months in years
Years in decades
and decades entering millennium.

Look at the world,
past, now and forward,
immense stillness arisen
for the unchanged
rays from sun not getting old
rain have static minds
fruits, trees and mountains
the creation of The God!!
Destruction has no patience
even for innocence.
May be by almighty
Or by man
only luminous eternal peace
in collaboration with love
justifies all.

Strength of love
and hour of death
have limitations of time
and it spares none.
Now reminding – you are alive,
How long!
Measure this length through
the scale of
mortality of happiness.
Or by
counting days and months-
Heavens are shut locked
when greatness of mind
is not a dynasty.
All that knowledge
wrapped around is
Cool Ocean of light
for everyone
The sun is not secret
so as moon, earth and stars
they are immune to changes
and attainable my artist
mystery mission.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Songs

a poem by

Meena Nanda

I am singing various songs
born through erudite silence.
Happiness in them was through exactness
off sorrows in flowing time.
Awaking of light in my songs
had already traveled dawn to night.
Knowledge in the lyrics
was gradual maturity of yesteryears.
Perseverance flashed not through tears
was rather espoused by rigidity and fears.
Songs of glory and peace were born
in most new mornings like waking after dreams
or as dew in the jasmine flower
or tired day end eyelid drop.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Township

a poem by

Meena Nanda

Divided wills
of day – dark stills,
dry bushes, no responding waves,
silent concrete skyscrapers.
And Phantom-like creatures
everywhere, all over.
Divided wills
of day dark stills
spreading the overflow paths
of spirits harmony
mornings to evenings
earths to skies. The Townships.
This carnival of long route
polluting solitude.
Cool moon-lit-night
sometimes may shower
the youth and dreams.
Yet Again
divided wills
of day dark stills.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Radha

a poem by

Meena Nanda

She arrived, not suddenly
like the stream!
Filled was the environment
with the flying stars of factuality.
The sprites of thrust,
showers of coolness,
then the audience as if
stood up and clapping.
Or lifted the whole wind,
to capture future breaths.
Desire arose for shutting down all the entrances.
But was only enduring void.
The truth gathered all stars
and fled away.
Remained again,
chasing, collecting, restoring, facts.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The time has come, I must

a poem by

Meena Nanda

The time has come that I must
undo imaginations and dreams
before I need to climb another round
of duties and those secret screams.

Time has come that I must
do away with faiths and pride
before desire to rise takes off new ride.

Time has come that I must
stop observing and understanding
before wounds cease paining and brain starts deliriating.

Time has come that I must
start preparing for my peace
and have proud to close all the chapters of live with ease.
Before the decay of memories of love
fall in the sedentary bed of roses and petal leaves.

The time has come that I must
declare my confessions in
the Poet’s Imaginings-
A mirror-like soul.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A breath of sigh

a poem by

Meena Nanda

In the landscape of mind
desert wind blows
transforming the sandhills behind.
Deep breaths of sigh flow
travel throughout and close.

In the silence of the moon
weary spirit of the clouds move.
Reoccur deep breaths of sigh soon
they come of their own,
decay of light unable to remove.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Haridwar

a poem by

Meena Nanda

Men and women old and young,
have just arrived quite grave
seem to have understood life and death,
most of them wrapped in saffron or white.
Close of the dead, pitcher in hand,
handled carefully.

Men and women young and old,
children big and small valid or invalid,
sharp gaze yet tired bodies
have never left the place.
Hardly bothered about life and death.
They assume themselves the sons and daughters of the holy river.

Men and women young and old
neither sad nor happy, sell my God!
Materials for dead for livelihood
things for peace and progress.
Maintain their market for life and death
their goods are never in or out of fashion.

We amongst one of the devout batches,
a brother and his family, a son outside the country that reaches
for salvation and devoir, on earth’s homeless house
breaths of oxygenless air and life that browse.

A young boy with designer’s pitcher from a far away country
young mother’s transformation, the fuls they call,
for emptying to the ultimate bed that confirms
meeting with her favorites god and goddesses.

Heads lowered brother in saffron enchanted mantras
for his only beloved sister’s solace, unflickered pain
life instant by instant moved in mind again and again
emptied the tears started running as if to accompany.

The sacred river accepted soon.
The eyeless gaze caught nothingness
the groundless floor and the deathless feet
to gain the strength and courage.

My insatiate soul would drain
the friendliest aunt — the utmost earth’s bitter pain.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Intricate Demand of Emotional Avidity – Idea

a poem by

Meena Nanda

Idea of love
is ideal.
Ideal love is
the idea.
Under a pillow
in hidden face
without lights
it works.
Rays of sun
washes them,
in a moonlit night
intrude temporarily,
disappears again
in the darkness,
the same idea of
the ideal love.
Sometimes again
in the brightest noon,
love faces me
as his jokes.
And secretive smiles
signed by dimpled cheeks
me-
Lost again in
the idea of love.
In the saddest evening
amidst of reading
a grave face
faces me and me
showering unusual joy
of love perhaps.
Unearthly unrecognaised.
The idea of love is
lovely uncertain and
unspotted, has no season
but all the reasons
for an ideal one.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Nature – My mainland blessed by

a poem by

Meena Nanda

The geographers and geologists are driven,
the same way, as artists and poets, it is heaven.
My mainland’s dramatically high
ornamented Himalayan range,
and Indo-Gangetic plains are such
that pantheon worshippers rarely change.

Terraces of flowerbed, shapes
avenue of cascades interiors around,
against Blue Mountains background,
unimaginative dimensions of landscapes,
for miles to miles in all directions, sunrise
Or sunsets-Kashmir
a Glimpse of Paradise.

Streams, mountains, groves and meadows,
Silvery intruding rays, overflows sky and
the rainbow,
I happen to have glance through the train
passing, Khandala the Maharashtrian Vein.
Heavenly beautiful starry night
remained engraved in my mind.

Fragrances of tuberose,
entry variety of summer, rain and winter poses,
for the earth’s actresses.
the stages as Goan wondrous beaches.

Enchanting clustered palms
romancing inside deep
Lakes of Kerela, of which, the charm
remains expressed incomplete.

Empire of hills and rocks,
depth of India the South
puts stocks of ecstasy,
the winning waves of Chennai beaches
bridging gaps of races.

Artist’s busy chisel,
legendary ancient verdant
silent plains profound
blue Chilika or Puri’s
ivory calm horizon’s bound.

Zigzag corridors in
north of West Bengal
towards the mysterious Himalayas
lies the real jewel, Nature has designed on earth.
Again Almighty strove legend in Vindhya,
victorious beauty Malwa the Madhya Pradesh,
lofty proud of my birthplace.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sensual Shadows

a poem by

Meena Nanda

A hot breath of moist air
Fragrance of monsoon soil
When the earth is coiling
In her own sensuality
May be in romance with
Autumn’s dry colours
And honeylike drops of rains
Whole of the geography was knowing
Erect treehood ascertaining
Something was going on.
Me mindful powerless,
Powerful mindless following
Shadows
Tacit words, noises around me
Featherless flying, landing on sands of deserts
Lost.
My soul is fulfilled
Your honeyed pearlike trickle
On your lips touched by my nose
I move, walk and run to catch
Shadows of glorious past.
I shall hold them before heavy rains bust
Or they cross the unseen river.
I cannot swim.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~