A Fruitfly!
It was there on the red table cloth,
Of the Chinese Restaurant,
Where the chef use their left hands,
To pick up the right ingredients,
To put into the hot pans and pots,
To dish out the delicious fries of boneless meat,
Laced with Ketchup and in MSG puddle,
I forgot the ‘It' on the table,
It was like a grain of sand,
Suddenly started to crawl like an ant,
A small little cute ant took a stroll,
Beside my plate and cutlery,
Then it stopped crawling, I thought it was tired,
I took the servitude and folded it into a cone,
Touched it softly to provoke it,
Then it woke up from the slumber,
And started to crawl like any toddlers do,
When I tried to touch for the third time,
It spread its tiny wings and flew away,
In a split of a second, either it knows,
[...] Read more
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Back To Home..
How far and wide we travel,
Our heart is always at home.
How great and small we are,
Our heart yearns for the known.
How healthy and weak we feel,
Our heart looks for our folks,
Wherever we go and whatever we do,
We have to be back, to home.
Nothing wrong to be alone,
But we can't be on our own.
When we are the members of the societies,
How do we say that we are alone?
When healthy we can stay alone,
When wealthy, we may stay alone,
When we are ill, we need people,
When we are poor, we need people,
Nothing wrong in staying alone,
When we are healthy, wealthy and confident,
Everything will be wrong,
When we are ill, broke and insecure,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Love at last sight...
I am too sick and ill,
To keep my head still,
Brought to the clinic,
For the check up and 'tonic',
There I see the girl,
As white as snow white,
When she looks at me,
Lightening flashing in me,
When she lifts her head,
rolls her beautiful almond eyes,
I hear the banging of lion dancers,
In my mind and when she turns,
And yawns feebly, fire burns,
Up my sick body and she is sick too,
We meet today and at this hour,
In the clinic that cares,
I can't take the eyes off her,
Beautiful plumb face and body,
She coughs a bit,
As she can't cough aloud,
[...] Read more
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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A Ceremony On The Bed!
The warmness spread through the thoughtless mind,
To make the fist size machine not to pound,
The rhythm of music in the closet of the chest,
The tip toe dance of the victorious trend,
The heat spreads through the stomach and the limps,
They are possessed with the haunting ancestral spirit,
The touching of tissues makes them to dance and sprint,
Contained on mattress of burning gas of fossil woods,
The unfulfilled desire is left behind for the mortals to dream,
Before the journey is done on the bed of four wheel barrel drum,
Decorated with the choicest flowers with loving notes,
Sprinkled with the fast evaporating perfume, hard to smell,
The final betrothal of water and fire, to churn out ashes,
The last rituals of anaerobic rotting in the comfort of velvety mosses,
A soul from the union of two souls, has left and arrived to pay the taxes,
Everything is quiet and peaceful after the ceremony finishes.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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In A Click Of A Wink!
So near they are, but very far their truths are,
One doesn't know that the other would scheme, hurt and tear,
The little nest that they have built with sweat,
The loving harmonious family unit, their project,
The 'planning' head was just besides, pretending,
The unaware soul just peaceful, sleeping,
Careful eyes always at watch to have a slip,
Perfect acting enacted at every scene,
The perverts are born in human in a click of a wink,
A stroke at the butt, the hit at the breast,
When one knows it very well,
The other will be left in peace for a while,
when the rules are broken with many opportunities,
the hurt can't be healed with repenting sincerity,
When the sin of one known to another,
The hell enters into a house with big flare,
to burn each and every innocent heart,
as one heart has made the mistake.
In a click of wink, a pervert need not be born,
Let us not be fooled with the rush of hormones.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Help me...
I am tired of knocking the windows and the doors,
Using my mighty limbs and legs and feeling the sadness,
At my heart, pushing the window as hard as I can,
People never hear my calling as they dip in their own,
Problems of puzzles that they have and I do not want to give up,
As I want to go out, then a hand pulled the knob to open up,
The closed window for me to fly out,
I am a butterfly, whose home is not a house.
I am lost in a house and trying to escape,
Just like this butterfly, we knock the same windows,
When we are clouded with worries and sorrows,
Not knowing that we need a hand to free us,
Banging again and again on the same window,
Blindly wishing for the window to be permeable,
Not knowing the needed help is available,
when the emotion is lost and the love is expired,
opportunities are erased and scarcity is established,
We do behave like this butterfly,
thinking the wrong as the right way.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Emotion Is Our Slave..
We may be peaceful, when there is noise,
Clattering sound of monstrous machines,
Rattling fun of relatives of choice,
Seldom affect the peace that defines.
Toil soils our body and tires our limbs,
Spoil not our peace, but our emotions,
Unknowingly every individual climbs,
Into the secured dwelling.
When in silent, secured becomes insecured,
When on our own again,
Memories make the lullaby,
Such a vicious villain that we nurtured.
Where to find the peace that Buddha looked for,
Under the tree leaving our loved ones,
Up in the mountain for a month and a half, or
In the caves that have bats and stones.
[...] Read more
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Artifical and real
The tears of crocodile, can't be seen,
But told in epic and legend as a clean,
Image with polluted metaphoric illusion,
In the tropical rain forest capitals, people planted,
Fabulously decorated trees of palms and flowers,
Out of fossil fuel, mad made jungle with flyovers,
God made man to the current man of intelligence,
God made brain to the chips of mother board's reign,
Compelling smile of the concerned individuals,
Concerned calls from the human of convenience,
Flowers are beautiful, but they are painted and shaded,
To bring out the non existing glow of the women,
Exhibition of acquired wealth and status,
Comfort out of swiped cards and credit,
All really not look real, but artificial.
The tear of needy human is real, not artificial,
The cry to be employed is real, not artificial,
The weeping in the closed rooms is real, not artificial,
The hope and expectation in the hearts are real, not artificial.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Be happy!
As my happiness is within you,
I can't be happy without you.
Happiness is dormant as the seeds do,
While waiting for the climate to sprout,
We are the clime for someone's seed,
May be hot, cold, breezy and windy,
Just nice for them to be happy,
Happiness is the only wealth,
That we can enjoy as the human,
The rest we have to leave and go,
Let us be the clime sometimes,
Let us be the seeds sometimes,
Let us have the blooms of joy,
Let us let others to be part of our bliss,
Shrouds of miserly weakness to be shed,
Smile to you first, looking at the shade,
Good words are a lot, use them frequent,
Not only those words of please and thank you,
Appreciate the intelligence as well as ignorance,
Without ignorance, intelligence can be differentiated,
[...] Read more
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Decision Made Not To Live!
We can't be carved, programmed and displayed,
As others expected for their dreams collapsed,
Carving done at every part of our life without informed,
Programming updated every stage of our life that intended,
Displayed all over the world what they have achieved,
By political carving, economical programming,
And the display as the developed on going,
When our time is not in our hands to enjoy,
Pawned for monthly salary from the bosses,
Every activity is scheduled when and how to do,
We are not free to do what we like,
Kissing our spouse has to be stopped,
When the alarms ring, blare and repeat,
Caring of our kids unintentionally transferred,
cooking of the meat, dead for many seasons,
gulping of supplements with no reasons,
carrying the tiara of pride on our noses,
Wearing the clothes of herds days after days,
Time passes very fast, half the time drowsy,
When we lived as we liked to remember and cherish?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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