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Meera Singh Poem
Let me fly away
to the distant pasture
where worlds meet.
I see a rainbow
resting along the cliff.
Let me fly away
to places of destiny.
Let me go
where I remain myself.
I long to search my soul.
My life has changed so much
it no longer feels like mine.
Time , another creator,
has reshaped me.
I feel
all my wings are cut.
I do not want to be here.
I want to fly away.
But my chick
has not yet learned to fly.
How do I leave him?
He will be alone without me,
and I
will be alone without him.
So let me fold my broken wings
and remain.
But when his wings grow strong,
when he rises into his own sky,
perhaps I will seek a quiet hermitage
somewhere
with my broken wings.
Copyright © Meera Singh | Year Posted 2026
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Meera Singh Poem
Meet me after thirty years
When all your hair is grey
And four of my teeth are gone.
Let us have an ice cream on the beach.
The wind will be salty, the waves high.
The monsoon will sit in a corner
But do not be shy.
hold my hand.
I will be like a sixteen-year-old,
Fright in my eyes,
Heart thumping high.
Let us meet in a jungle
With lush green trees and a sparkling spring.
Let us soak our feet in the water
And talk to the trees.
Tell your story
and hear some from me.
I will speak of big things,
But forget to mention the small thing
That I never forgot
to remember you.
So meet me after thirty years.
Do not forget to pack your tears and laughter.
I am packing mine daily.
When we meet,
On the beach or in the jungle,
Let us bury them under the earth.
They will blossom into a tree
Perhaps Jasmine,
Perhaps night-flowering Parijat.
Or submerge them under the sea;
They will become pearls.
But my friend will meet me after thirty years.
After that,
I will travel too far
And coming back
Is not certain.
Copyright © Meera Singh | Year Posted 2026
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Meera Singh Poem
O greenish blue neighbour of mine
across my kitchen window, sunning in shine
perching very high on the doctor's house fig tree
resonating your tunk...tunk louder than metronomic glee
Saw you today, puffing your yellow throat,
the silk floss petals plucking with your hand glove
bobbing your red head and flicking bluish tail,
have you tracked a sincere mate?
have you picked a red berry or two for your consort,
hope allopreening is not building on snort?
what about fluttering your blue grey black wings side by side ?
start a "Beak Game" in a full stride?
Keep flight straight, with rapid flaps
Be away from that, extortionist Blue-throated barbet
avoid flying klepto red-vented songbird,
eyeing at your red berries and burd.
PS:A coppersmith (barbet) , very old next tree neighbour, annoying sometimes by her incessant calls ,many times reminds me that that is how a life goes on
Copyright © Meera Singh | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Meera Singh Poem
Let us smile one last time
As the end of us comes through.
I remained in my world,
And you in yours
Because for you
We are not equal.
Never can be.
It may take centuries to understand
That our minds carry equal weight,
Equal strength.
“My life is beneath yours.”
No, not at all.
“Your thinking is superior to mine.”
No, not at all.
I think as independently as water
Restless, shaping stone.
Why are we trapped
In this artificial world of dependency?
Weariness entered my life.
Wrinkles carved into my muscles.
My thoughts grew tired
This togetherness
That kept taxing my mind
Day after day.
One day I became sand,
Moving from dune to dune
Yet dependent on the wind
To carry me.
Isn’t that so?
Where is my space?
A free will like an asteroid
Yet still pulled
By some unseen gravity
Somewhere.
Life paused at this juncture.
So I disappeared
Or ran for a hundred years
Seeking an equal soul.
Copyright © Meera Singh | Year Posted 2026
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