Poems by Meera

Routine Surprise

a poem by

Meera

A mosquito under a tap
Springing tip, tip, tap, tap
Rejoicing on the parched
Buckets, bath-tub, shower-head.

A mosquito on the water-filter
Perhaps its thoughts filter
Thro’ its funnel-like body
Keeping it bite-ready.

A mosquito on the looking glass
No, not a good looking lass
But a male admiring his muscle
Wasn’t Narcissus male, after all?

A routine surprise
Like the perky sunrise
A mosquito’s behaviour
Does interest its Saviour.

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Rain Drops

a poem by

Meera

Raindrops on velvety roses
Raindrops on prickly cactus
Each flower with its own texture
Just as rain has its own nature.

Do the raindrops have insights
Into the diverse forms of the flowers?
Petals and thorns live together
And joyously so, with leaves and roots.
So has rain learnt from a flower
To subsist with clouds and thunderbolts.

Rain, sometimes, a pupil of its wet phenomena
More often is a scholar educating intelligentsia
Man is a slave, malleable to the raindrops
Rain is the Lord Paramount,
Eternally awaiting cloud outbursts.

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Death of a Biochemist

a poem by

Meera

Accident, what to do?
Can happen to anyone.
She was a biochemist
who always spoke like atheist.
Believed in the mythical eclipse.
On her part, there wasn’t any lapse.
No, no lapse, only accident.
Can happen to anyone.
She had lively, kaajaled eyes,
watched Tamil films,
witnessed kabaddi matches.
Spot death, it seems.
Accident, can happen to anyone.
A proud mother
of three healthy sons.
Took good care
when alive…sudden death.
Accident, can happen
even to a mother.

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Soliloquy of a Butterfly

a poem by

Meera

Chirp, chirp dawn again
I am game for a stroll
Around the delectable garden
Yummy flowers make me drool

I see my mate sucking
On a hibiscus
Slyly uncoiling
And invading with his proboscis.

Another bush, another flower
Marigold or Lily?
Why should it matter
I settle on anything frilly.

I am ever-changing
Moving from known to unknown
Living and learning
The art of nature’s recycling.

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Violin Teacher

a poem by

Meera

Complete, charged circle
her responsive cheek
upon pulsating violin
fingers dancing
on the strings
notes cycling endlessly
through her
onto the violin
receptive student
devoted bowing
harmonious unison
now sharp
now lilting
tuning
the body
with the soul
naada-atma
a tender tug
a rhythmic
celestial melody
flowing on and on…

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