Flow Of Love!

My heart is not sculptured resembling your face,
Still it says your name seventy two times,
A minute, the love flows through the four chambers,
Looking for your heart that is safe as the deposit,
That is kept for life time and will never get matured,
To get back your heart with my interest accumulated,
Let our love get compounded, not be the simple,
To mature and collect the debris of good memories,
Let our love have the memory in maximum bytes,
To remember the good for many more births,
The bad can be gone to day itself. Let our love stay.
For ever, in your heart and in my heart not desiccated.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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A Bow And An Arrow..

The bent bows are the eye brows,
the Piercing eyes are the arrows,
Those who are shot, still trapped,
Punctured are not their thoughts,
Flowered arrow does its works,
Both are in trance for a while,
and then they are as cloudy as the nerds,
They seem to understand the facts,
But the doubts erupt as volcanoes,
Hold their hands, they douse it,
Arguments arrive after each sentence,
Bonded minds make an agreement,
They are the birds, flying high and wide,
Paired up as one to leave the legacy,
Their nests are clean and then dirtied,
Not their love, it is as white and pure as,
the snow of Everest.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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A Painter In You!

who has painted your picture in my thoughts,
without a brush, the paints and the pallet,
not even sketched using a pencil and a knife,
the picture is perfect with the colors mixed,
your smiling is great with a thin line at the edges,
your eyes are wide open, sprinkling the cheerful messages,
every time the happy visuals of you pop out in the mind,
I couldn't have drawn such a beautiful portrait,
of you in my heart, who has done this painting?
You are the one who posed and painted on your own,
you are a great painter who can paint your pictures,
on everyone's heart whom you know, love and respect.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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If you throw peanuts..

Tax rebate,
subsidized fuel,
Hand outs,
of few hundreds,
subsidized food items,
stamps and welfare system.

In some other places,
Grinder, blender,
out dated black and white Tv,
mass produced defective,
electronics and electromechanics,
and pretentious concern,
at the last minute.

Remember,

We are not monkeys,
to throw the peanuts at us.
We have the power,

[...] Read more

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Sweet And Bitter..

The taste of cakes, sweets and chocolate,
The sugar in them makes us to be happy and glad,
The feeling is great and contagious,
When the sweetness of something is around us,
The bitter taste of anything may make us to be sad,
As it does not tickle the tongue and the taste buds,
When the bitterness runs to the throat,
When the bad memories resurface to haunt,
The emotions get bitter and torture the soul,
The sweetness rekindles all good emotions,
And this is related with all good memories,
What makes the bitter to be bitterer,
And the sweet to be sweeter,
When it is felt by the heart and the mind?

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The fragrance of you..

Why do you hurt me with your thorny fingers,
When I do not even pull and hurt you,
But pluck you, when you sway with the wind.
The cold dews on the beautiful surface,
The elegant hips near blooming flowers,
The single petals perfectly arranged,
Each one of you uniformly differently shaded,
You are the symbol for love and compromise,
you are there to worship and worry,
When distilled to obtain a gram of fragrant oil,
Two thousands of you have to be sacrificed,
You are everywhere in the world,
Everyone welcomes you with open hands,
To hold your thorny stem and then,
Take you to their nose, The Rose.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Don't waste the food..

Dusty roads are many, where gutsy people walk,
Muddy paths are countless, where trusting lives live,
On the embankments of river, ravine and monsoon canals,
Millions of babies formed, born, grown and give birth,
We are the tough species to conquer any other species,
We have come a long way not to make it a short exit,
Let us celebrate our victory with the mother earth,
Where her treasure are being stolen for our mirth,
Diamond cuts a diamond; a heart wounds a heart,
We, human, hurt our fellow human for our greed,
Millions roam on the urban jungle for the food,
Millions throw the food into the bin as a fad.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Are our brains wrinkled?

Wrinkles are the measurement,
to show the life's management,
some are very near and deep,
and the rest long and steep.

Wrinkles are the asset,
that get through the experience,
not all those experienced,
never have such twinkles.

The wrinkles which can not be seen,
hidden inside the hard shell,
More the wrinkles formation,
More the knowledge dwell.

Let us see who has more fold.
Einstein or a research assistant,
people with more folds may not know it,
people with lesser folds strive to get it.

[...] Read more

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Reality of life...

All those minding the attitude of multitude,
Aren't dragged into the den of solitude,
All those who are at the den of solitude,
Aren't minding the attitude of multitude,
All those who learn to read the mind of people,
Aren't energized to be useful,
All those who are energized to be useful,
Aren't reading the mind of the people,
All those who succeed are not intelligent,
All those who are intelligent are not successful,
All flowers that bloomed will not become seeds,
All those seeds not produce flowers indeed,
All those who succeed in life are not intelligent,
All those who are intelligent are not successful, .

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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A House Of Joy!

A house full of just played toys, ,
Just fed bowls, just torn papers,
Newly added drawing to the walls,
What a pleasure to the eyes and souls,
The kids are there in that house,
Growing as inquisitive as they have to be,
Let them play in their own house,
Don't control them in the name of rules,
Young mothers, don't toil too hard to please,
All the notorious oldies of the world,
Teach your children the morals and to be bold,
Enjoy your life with your children and husband,
Unkempt house is not an eyesore,
When the kids are growing to be old,
Unkempt heatt is a real curse,
When the old and young comfortable with.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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