Do I Have An Issue To Address?
Seeds of the parents,
are the children.
Needs of the genetics,
that produced.
Don't produce the seeds,
that are mutated,
the habits of the parents,
are that dictate.
Habits are the actions,
that we do repeatedly,
Let those habits be,
good and refined flawlessly.
Have a stick in the mouth,
carry the glass in the hand,
Sniffing, injecting, gulping of,
drugs are to be avoided.
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Care For One Another..
Look at the hearts only,
Beating inside punctually,
as the stars majestically,
One above other vertically,
Hearts are beating vibrantly.
One above the other in high rise,
hearts toil with no surprise,
as the galaxies and constellations,
Hearts are beating horizontally,
Few hearts in big space,
Many hearts in small place,
as the diamonds twinkle in space,
Hearts are found in the ocean,
Hearts are there in the mountains,
Hearts are loitering in the jungles,
Hearts are beating in places,
as the planted gems above us,
Daring hearts are weak,
Weaker hearts are strong,
Most hearts are healthy,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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God is love.
God is a good Councillor,
as He knows the psychology of love,
the elixir for youth and old.
God is a good magician,
as He makes it appear and disappear
the illusions of love.
God is a good pharmacist,
as He mixes up the estrogen and testosterone,
in the right proportion.
God is a good director,
to enact the drama of love,
to keep all climaxes in secret.
When in love,
everything looks
beautiful and pretty.
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Young mother!
When the mother is left with young children,
The hands are full and the mind is not dull,
Her eyes are down on the children, who rattle,
Not on the spouse, who suddenly stops to tattle,
Young mother is as busy as a bee, flying around,
The messy house to have the neat hive and honey,
She is not a queen bee to order the servants,
She is a human and needs help and love,
Helpless responsible young mothers are great,
For they have sacrificed their comfort for their brood,
So many professionals gave up their career,
For the love that they have upon their future,
Young mothers of the world, just relax and not to cry,
So much work day in and day out, but you are the Gods,
To provide what your young children need,
To cover them with comfort of loving blanket,
To protect them from all invisible germs and harms,
To plant the seeds of care in their mind to bloom,
Disciplined children are the outcome of your salty sweat,
Continue to sacrifice as our ancestors did.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Not A Day Dream!
The slanting earth and the stationary Sun are too biased,
When they rotates on a monotonous speed,
The people flourish in numbers on the infertile land,
Where the partiality of the earth is shown as drought,
The people nourish their nerves in the fertile land,
Where the earth provides them with good climate,
Poorer are the people where the sun shows his smiling face,
Richer are them, when obedient Sun plays hide and seek,
When the flood washes away the cities in certain places,
The economy is revived through building better houses,
When the drain water flood need the life of pitiful human,
The water born diseases and mosquitoes are on the game,
When the sun is too prejudiced showing his intensity,
The earth is equally unfair with five weapons of massacres,
Be impartial and not to follow the biased natures,
We are the human and we will control all of these,
Keeping all of these under our finger tips and make,
These to do what we want, no more catastrophes.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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When hearts are near, people whisper!
Smile at me, when I return from work
Don't smell at me and turn in sulk
I may build the wall out of brick,
I may fix the pipe as a trick,
I may drive the multi ton trucks,
I may plough the field in bare feet,
I may walk around to sell the knick knacks,
I may go into the drain to remove the clogs,
I may wear the protective suit in oil rigs,
I may wear the gloves to wash the dirt,
When I return home, please smile at me,
For I do this work for the children and you.
Look at me as the flowers in your garden,
Look at me as you look at our children,
Look at me as a human, who is in need,
Yes, I need you and your love,
Don't scare me with your shouting,
We are very near and our hearts are very dear,
I am simply very tired and know your fear,
Wipe away your suspicious tear,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Police brutality..
Beat them not in the lock up,
Beat them not in the custody,
Punch them not in the stomach,
smash them not on the head.
Beat them not for they are colored,
beat them not for they are feared,
abuse them not as they are deprived,
corner them not as they seem to be suspicious.
Brutality at police custody,
is illegally approved offense.
Hundreds died and thousand live,
with the damages caused in custody.
Who can be charged for the invisible wounds,
in the soft abdomen and hard skull?
Hard core criminals are hard to deal,
but why the 'suspect' has to be punished,
before the judgement?
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The storm through the window..
The cotton clouds gather slowly just above me,
Having gala storm and fireworks at half past three,
Grey veiled granny clouds join the young and white,
Just hide the Matron Sun and her blooms out of sight.
Warm air refrigerated in the open earth's space,
The hearty wind blows swiftly and nicely over the face,
The darkened rooms make me to touch the closed switch,
Gathered cousins hit one another to flash the white light,
Snaky lightening blast the transformer as usual,
Lazy thunder and the blast echo one after,
Tired family start to cry in a short while,
With the splash of water rake through quarter mile,
Bored of crying, whining, shouting and flashing,
The guests disperse for time being until next gathering,
The collected water on the roof top of high rise,
start to flow through the broken gutter as water fall,
sway back to forth to the instruction of winds,
the underprivileged street children come out to have their bath,
just following the shower of water on its path.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Scarry moment..
The serpent was in front of me,
But a real king Cobra, so slim,
Sparkling with bluish tint,
Scales glittered with no attempts,
The eyes, piecing as the arrows,
Lifted the head for a foot, narrow,
Tail holds the ground in anger,
Shaking tongue protruded in despair,
The orange mouth opened wider,
The hissing whistle sounds higher,
My trembling hand took the hand phone,
Called the City Hall for assistance,
They told me to ‘snake sit' for a while,
If run away, inform them at once,
I looked at the snake,
The snake looked at me,
My tied dogs looked at us,
They were angry with me,
For I prevented them,
From doing their duty,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Sun Always Rises In The East!
Hard working bodies are sculptured,
To withstand various harsh weathers,
Standing under the hot sun, cold winds,
When the unpredictable climate not kind.
Human, who are exposed to physical challenges,
Getting themselves many rings to secure strength,
Willows do. When they get aged, millions of young,
Human strive hard to be full of power, but still agile.
Birds that fly have the tougher muscles,
Animals that run and are active, tussle,
This life of cheers and sorrow, full of puzzles,
Be kind to the people who are dear as drizzle.
Million dollars may worth a lot, we can't resist it,
Having the fear of losing millions or thousands,
Is not the reason to test and torture the youngsters,
the money has no power to obtain the love and care.
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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