Let Us Dance!
The memory dances to the tune of the wind,
The energy elevates with hormonal scent,
Solo dancers start to dance in their dreams,
Climes change the temperature as the streams,
The souls have to follow the preset movements,
To the melody of musical notes enshrined,
Solo, Couple, Line, Square and circular dancers,
Express the desire in the strict rhythmic steps,
Dancing is fun and glamour to the tired mind,
As the cosmic dance is the pastime to the earth,
When it revolves on its axis, goes around the sun,
When the tiny moon revolves around it with no fun,
Stars, galaxies and even black holes on their toes,
Diligently follow the path of their own, away from foes,
When the trees synchronize to the force of the air,
When the dust swirl to the pressure of atmosphere,
When the drizzle follow the direction of the wind,
And the unborn dances in the fluid of the womb.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Where Were You?
Where were you? This long period,
From time immemorial, where were you?
Hidden behind the mountainous ego,
Suddenly fallen on the Iris, roamed with selfish billows,
Reached the heart of the mass, where were you?
Boiled in the core of the womb, have you let yourself free?
Cooled down to be the stubborn ice, then to be thawed,
Where were you? Caught hold of the legs of the butterflies,
Visited all the beautiful blooms and then tired all the tryst,
Entered the threshold of innocence, where were you?
Believed all faithful doctrines and forgot the fragrant humanity,
Had the shower to remove all the dirt stuck impermanent?
Where were you? When the rational side is apparent,
These crying clouds may not say multiple stories,
The flashing lightning may disappear in wearies,
Autumn leaves may get rejuvenated and look fresh,
The spring foliage may be impressively alert.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Shadowed Life!
Praying mantis strike a good pose,
How much they eat, they won't be obese,
People of this insect kind, clasp their hands tight,
Looking up in the sky to find the answer for their fight,
People wear the clothes of poor not by choice, but by force,
People have the empty stomach not for diet, but have no food,
Barefooted people walking on the hot soil and cold ice mud,
The hands with no rings open the containers to find the air,
Straining under the angry sun for feeding the mouths,
Obeying the rules of the land, people are tamed,
Various mortgages chained their free spirit,
Scared of their own welfare, they like to be in the crowd,
Though they know something wrong, they have no voice,
To shout and cry for help and the hostile world,
Have dorms, but they have no time to warm.
Wheels are tied to the feet with policy brakes,
That decide for them when to rest and relax.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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What is democracy?
They said that the government of the people,
By the people and for the people, remarkable,
Democracy in many countries of third world,
Derived from aimless policies and controversies untold,
People on the street hope for the better tomorrow,
As the tomorrow, their hope never comes true,
Is Painting the finger once in a few years the democracy?
Is carrying the placards with empty stomach a liberty?
Are the indebted human tied with the voiceless economical stump?
When people having nothing, they have the voice,
When people everything, they have a voice with no noise.
Human are made dump for they not want to lose their properties,
Human are made to be tolerant, when they are kept vertical,
Human are confused with capitalistic democracy,
Human are not comfortable with socialistic democracy,
What is the meaning for democracy,
when the mind and the body are controlled?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Don't be sad..
stand up on your feet, taller than ever,
wipe off the dust, cleaner to be brighter,
dust of worries and tortures,
dust of confusion and failures.
we are born to live happily,
whether we have money or miseries,
we are born to live safely,
whether we live in a house or on the alley.
Be brave and courageous,
Don't behave outrageous,
love yourself gracious,
love everyone contagious.
Don't cry for the petty things,
Those have made you to fling,
We are the human with the willing,
Wipe that tear that is filling.
[...] Read more
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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High Heels On The Muddy Roads...
Imported car, just delivered,
to the door step, but splashed,
with mud and the colors of ignorance,
of people who live in tolerance.
Take a drive on these roads,
full of pot holes and dust,
with the foul smell of decays,
worse than the shed of animals.
Having a presidential palace,
Having a palatial parliament,
Having the generous politicians,
doing nothing to this appearance.
Poor people walk day and night,
having a destination in their mind,
at least a meal for the family,
at least some peace in harmony.
[...] Read more
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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A Drop
When unemployed,
Why the desires are desired more?
Why the more worries are worried?
Why the needs are increased?
Why the inability is enabled?
Why the confidence Is disabled?
More than ever as a rat,
Yet to be caught,
In the trap of illusion,
Of others ignoring us,
Not being respected.
Millions of us,
May be unemployed,
With little savings,
With Monthly mortgages,
A few mouths to feed,
A strong heart to hold and cherish,
not to let this little boat to drift away,
Believe me, we are the survivors,
[...] Read more
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Money making money!
Baby, you are soft and sleek,
Wearing cotton and linen dress,
Attiring security thread, so clear,
The soil's water mark, run over,
Who make you so authoritative?
Every human falls for your eye wink,
The colors chosen to brighten you,
Every one of you worth to be adored,
When men's sweat worth your value,
Who make you so perfect?
How many master engravers work on you,
To have the perfect portrait and border,
Are you exposed to UV lights to get burnt?
After bathing, you do go for press setting,
Everyone work on you to make your mold,
The details of dots, fine lines, design and text,
Historical images on your face,
The signature at your hips,
Tight security at your birth place,
Transferred to the destinations,
[...] Read more
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Pigeons at Glasgow.
Why there are so many crippled, walking and limping on the yard?
Why are their joints ripped off, missing one in the middle?
How is she lost half of her leg, balancing as a ballerina?
Did he step on the mine's head, in the battle field of Afghan?
They are neither the enemy nor the friendly soldiers,
They are neither the arrogant nor the cunning creatures,
They are neither the noisy nor the clumsy scavengers,
They are the beautiful and humble pigeons.
I saw these mutilated pigeons frolicking in the lobby,
Where thousands of people walk everyday without folly,
To catch a train at Glasgow railway station in UK,
These poor little birds are wandering picturesque.
Who hurt these misfortune birds?
I looked up at the ventilators,
Where the nails are nailed,
That ripped the claws and legs of the birds.
[...] Read more
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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An Angry Mother!
Spiking is cruel, when I come to your home,
I have observed the wicked smile in every Rome,
Over the years I have gone feeble, but look strong,
my numbing nerves send the signals wrong.
Mixed with solvent not to get detected quicker,
Solids can be added to add some more flavor,
Served in the beautiful cups to get distracted,
Spiking becomes everyday occurrence yet to be noted.
Bees never spiked me to build their hives to save honey,
Birds may dip their beaks; but never break the rules of nature,
The greens obedience must be emulated, the treacherous,
Are the human, who have spiked me for momentous pleasures.
They call me mother to nourish my emotion to cheat me further.
They call me lonely to make me depressed to play with my treasures.
They call me generous, as I still have precious 20km high breathing air,
Whatever they flatter, my anger can't be contained in the earthen Jar.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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