Depression..

Cyclic nature of it,
Really mysterious,
When we are alone,
And think repeatedly,
Of the unsettled disputes,
Suspicious doubts and
Turbulent days,
When we were busy.

When you become moody and sad,
When you feel like lonely and mad,
When you start to cry for nothing,
Just call someone to talk and cling.

Hiding the feeling,
Makes it worst,
When you are depressed.

Taking the medicines,
Can do any good,

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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Feelings Felt

The foot prints bloom as flowers,
When you come closer.
The merry thoughts loom as shower,
When you speak sweeter.
The earning heart beats in pleasure,
When you look sharper.
As the needy has found a treasure,
the loving hearts found theirs.

After the rain, things look clearer,
as the dusty confusion cleaned.
After finding theirs, people may wonder,
Whether the gift be kept.
Enchantment of everything disappear,
as the two doves in the window.
Just the two set off into the blue yonder,
as the elders have done earlier.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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those two live as One.

A single flower bloomed,
from the misty rainbow,
So beautiful and smooth,
as the silky satin skin,
Can have it in the hearts
for many more life times,
Still unable to get the spectrum
for each distinct tone,
The fist sized machines in the chest,
know it very well,
The ray of love goes through,
those four almond eyes,
To the heart, then to the mind,
and to the soul,
What majestic feeling,
that one has,
To share with another,
who thinks the same,
Feels the same and
Those two start to live as one.

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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Internet

The whole world is in front,
in the pixels of the monitors,
The larger the numbers,
Clearer the prose and pictures,
The feelings of achievement,
That set forth in the forefront,
The head gets giddy and proud,
The response posted on the board,
Once the system is down,
Once the electricity does not flow,
We are lost as if we lost a friend,
We are sad as if the sky collapses on our heads,
When thinking all our work erased,
Our heart may miss many beats,
What is life without internet?
What life is this with the internet?

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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What Is Lust?

Are the eyes, the entrance,
to the passage of lust?
Affairs of estranged people,
started with glancing,
then looking and passing,
the language of lust.
The lust can identify the lust,
so is the dirty lustful human,
as a snake knows,
the legs of another snake.

Once the desires are fulfilled,
the same eyes do not want,
to see the same person again,
for the guilt of the dust.
Sometimes it may continue,
for sometimes,
and ultimately it has to end,
as lust is a wild feeling,
that does not know,

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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Someone Asked Me

When you walk on the red carpet with shoes laced with corrupt cattle dung,
When you stand near the podium with forgotten script and in cloudy mind,
When you promised to be the leader with unfulfilled plans,
Before you realize, the same people who loved you, will ridicule you.

When you are the head of the learned with confused knowledge,
When you are the leader of the team that builds white elephants,
When you are the representative of super power with no power,
What contribution can you make for the betterment of existing humor?

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Love Yourself!

the flowers bloom for me,
the wind blow for me,
the rivers run for me,
why I have to shun me?

the clouds rain for me,
the trees grow for me,
the birds sing for me,
why I have to hide me?

the buildings built for me,
the satellites spin for me,
the poets compose songs for me,
why I have to mask me?

this world, created for me,
these institutions work for me,
the cows produce milk for me,
why I have to stand aside?

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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Aura

If aura can numb the senses,
The tactic can be used for offenses,
Stand beside the human we desire,
Loan, loot and love can be ours.

If aura can numb one's own senses,
How can they feel the pleasures?
Aura is the radiation of heat
from anything that can burn and blaze.

Photograph of aura seems to reveal,
Mindset of one, who pose with no metal,
Rainbow colors are there with additional hues,
White and yellow for the saints and spiritualists,
who do not burn much for worldly pleasure,
running to hurt another heart to get gratified.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Wrong Answers May Not Be The Same!

The right answers are the same,
For the same questions asked,
Whether they write on their own or copy,
Teachers won't have doubts, but feel happy,
For their students are smart.
When the wrong answers are written,
Not by only one, but by many in the class,
Teachers know that the students resort to copy,
When the same wrong concept is written,
Many times in many places without knowing,
That the concept is wrong and need to be corrected,
The same wrong answer may not be written by many,
But by the one who does not know that it is wrong.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Broken hearts..

How many times,
To how many young adults,
How many of you,
Have told it is too fast,
How many of them listened,
Mostly not listened and brushed aside,
How many shattered hearts,
How many of us have,
And found all around,
All around on the streets,
The power of hormones,
Really too strong to trick the mind,
To break the heart sooner or later,
The power of hormones,
The shower of rain,
The breeze of the wind,
The coldness of eternal spring,
The elasticity in the coil of spring,
It has to stay forever,
Why the broken hearts shiver?

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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