Monday, January 1, 2018




Let her swab the mirror again and again,
Until her mislaid youth she can gain.
No amount of swabbing seems to work,
It only adds to her escalating pain.

She is flabbergasted as to how is it possible.
No wonder she is completely inconsolable.
Wailing and crying at the top of her voice,
But no one can hear her, due to the deafening noise.

She thinks it’s a nightmare,
Her wrinkled face and grey hair.
Till yesterday it wasn’t there.
Oh God! So unexpected! Is this fair?

Her appeal, her exquisiteness her splendour and grace,
Millions of people craved for her embrace.
But today she has turned hideous and ragged

Swabbing the mirror again and again.
Fully determined is she to clean it,
Until her mislaid youth she can gain.

Anxiety, strife, struggle, war, and pollution,
Are her problems without any solution?
Arise her darling offspring, respond to her clarion call.
Get united and take a resolution.
Of swabbing the dirt from her mirror,
Till it shows Mother Earth her old reflection


She knew she was a bit late.
But under the influence of Ishtar,
She managed to make some time.
To catch-up with him,
Even though he had reached his prime.

He articulated his deep anger for a while,
Then mellowed down to wear a smile.
Stretching her hands towards him,
She tried to match-up with his warmth.

Ego, hurt, jealousy and pride,
Decided to quit them,
Taking an immediate flight.

Their heart beats increased,
And made his fury cease.
On meeting of the eyes, breathing increased.
The crawling time decided to freeze.

What a golden opportunity!
How could he miss!
Apollo took her in a tight embrace.
And rewarded her with his warmest kiss.

His adrenalin began to race.
Looking at her dazzling sun kissed face.


Twelve hours of incessant rain,
Was completely disconcerting my brain.
First I contemplated I would take shelter,
Instead of going helter-skelter.
Thus I visited a friend's house,
Unaware of the approaching rouse.
How fully soaked was I and shivering!
The passersby were also quivering.
On reaching the destination, I rung the bell,
But all my efforts were going to hell.
There was neither a sound nor any movement,
In my condition, there was no improvement.
Feeling disillusioned, I sat at the door step,
chewing over my next step.
Heaven knows what was my mental framework;
Was I waiting for the unexplained to work?


MEENA MISHRA is an award winning  author ,  poet, short-story writer, social worker , editor and an educator .  Her poems, stories and book-reviews have been published in international journals and magazines. She is recipient of several prestigious awards viz  poetry writing, story writing, essay writing ,elocution, debate, singing, best magazine, best class teacher, best speaker and many more. She has also received the Principal’s Award and Agnitia, for outstanding contribution in the field of education.  She has written a novel “No, I Don’t Love You” for creating awareness amongst the youth against online chatting. She is an International Coordinator and leads the  British Council activities in her school.  She is  a dedicated teacher, teaching English, at Dr. S. Radhakrishnan International School (Malad), Mumbai. She can be reached at

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