You and I, not land and sky..
You and I not land and sky,
But land and water to dream and fly,
You and I not land and sky,
Get separated for ever with strict policies,
By different forceful persona that rule and exist,
Never get united in any thousands of eclipse.
When Agitation decreases the surface tension,
The anger of energy possessed by each molecule,
Just try to escape from the nagging soul, you,
Elevated high to the sky and have the eye wash,
Bored of wandering aimless journey,
Return to you as rain to sleep on your lap.
You and I, the patient land and the running water,
You are the only one, who can hold me tight and near,
Wherever I run, float, get polluted and return,
Your pure love can remove all my ignorant dirt,
Proud to hold me in two third of you,
What I have done to you, except run away from you,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Highways
The road that these tyres run,
Ends nowhere, straight and long,
The drizzle at the windscreen,
The wipers move fast to clean.
The teak trees on the north south highway,
Grown thicker year by year, bougainvillea,
At the divider dwarfed to bloom as required,
Genetically modified plants, shrubs and flowers.
Push that button to open the window,
The fragrant wind enters and rejuvenates,
The sun hides behind the mountain range,
Sprinkles the free gold dust everywhere.
Looking through the sunshade and sunglass,
The fire ball glows as the thirsty lass,
To tie her beautiful fringe and fire logs,
Curved seven colors of ribbon plot.
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Its Croaking Shows Its Presence! !
The croaking echoes through the neighborhood,
the blasting croaking echoes as braying,
sometimes as barking, another time as whistling,
the sounds of croaking may crack our heads,
in the tropical region where it rains,
every other day and musical begins,
with the mono syllabic cricket,
house lizards join them occasionally,
The frogs repeats one day and one night,
as the Native American folklore says,
brother sun agreed and the bear hibernated,
the frogs repeat one day and one night,
it may not be alive the next day,
unnecessary croaking,
is being heard by something,
that slithers and hungry,
its croaking showed its presence,
right to the mouth of that reptile.
In the middle of the meetings,
some of us croak to show our presence,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Mother Of Babies!
The society has retired and placed me in front of Television,
What I have, is the memory of the working life, glory and pain,
The spouse of mine reminds me of the shrunken apple,
The hazing sight, dreamy eyes that look to the doors knobs,
All of a sudden she has got up at the arrival of the kids',
Drives to the market to pick up the best for their favorite dish,
The giggling and laughing from the kitchen echo,
through otherwise silent and abundant ‘walls and curtains',
The moving of glasses, plates, bowls and happy minds,
The opening and closing of micro wave oven of,
Past year's stories to the updat of the current events,
The baking of sweet fragrant vanilla cakes and pies,
The mother and the children at the kitchen, living room,
Prayer room and even in their bed rooms,
I, as usual mind my business of tending of garden and the home,
The house becomes quiet again, when the working children leave,
When I ask my suddenly bloomed wife of two days,
To bring a glass of water, she turns and looks at me,
Oh! that shrunken apple! She tells she is too tired,
Oh! My children! Please tell me the secrets with no frills,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The actors are ready..
Throw the peanuts of promises,
As we are the helpless citizens,
Having ten fingers,
Throw us peanuts of hopes,
Which finger you want to paint,
And that finger is yours,
But they spit on the index finger,
Now they want us to press,
With the little fingers,
The drama is staged perfectly,
On the platform of every country,
That believes in democracy,
Believes the gays and lesbians,
Talks about the D & C and The Gods,
Health care for obese and skeletal,
Employment for employed and unemployed,
High rises with vacant apartments,
The not run taps of foreclosed houses,
Empty stomachs need metal pots,
The botched hut with oil lamps,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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When look at her face and the moon, the moon is not beautiful.
When you stand in between him and me,
Do you look prettier than me to envy?
This cycle of tortures go on many years,
When he, you and I stand in line in cosmic sphere,
Even my children admire and a few start to sing,
Others take their mighty pens looking at their flings,
Millions of poem dedicated for your pretty fair face,
The crucial decision is made on this day,
To face you out slowly and steadily,
When you are drowned in the reflected allure,
Move around me in drunken dream and stupor,
When my shadow catches your beautiful body,
You are very intoxicated to hide behind me,
When I stand face to face with him, the universal infidel,
Flirts with every star that flick and twinkle,
Plays with my feeble heart that has lava bleed,
Your mind is cleared, then repent and become,
A Carmelite for a day behind the earthen wall,
When I am in between him and you,
When I am closer to him, I really glow,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Unnaturally Ours!
Please, don't go in there, where you can't be with me,
Nauseous air, millions of microbes, though cools below sixteen,
Come out and look at me, waiting just far away as the omnipresence,
I have the coldest brain, emitting fastest signals in hottest pause,
The warmest belly with frequent showers, willows applause,
The melting deposit inside me plays the truant without mercy,
A Jacuzzi, two third full of salted water for you to swim to glee,
The armies of clouds engage in shooting with flashing lightening,
Fine golden sand that is hot in the home of camels, but wet,
Near the home of human, Come out; feel me with your wits,
Smell mine, very fragrant, though the Rafflesia, the giant bloom,
Flowers once in many years emits repelling odor, has no stems,
Taste me and you will not leave me and stay with me forever,
Hear me; I have the musical noise that comes out from your gadgets,
Flowing rivers giggle, the swaying leaves speak soft,
Breaking trees shouts, before the storm, air cries,
After the storm it is quiet, the silence in the falling slow flakes,
Drips of rain dropp as the people running for festivals and galas,
When I can reveal my soul to you, why do you hide and grieve?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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A Glow Worm and A Firefly
Dressed up for the mating night,
Never known it's for two weeks delight,
Rolled and sucked all alive under the earth,
The small lights even in the eggs, glow under the dark.
Meditated through many seasons to mature,
After pupating the single eyes become compounded,
The missing wings left the females on the ground,
The wingless flight to the height, emitting luminescence.
Sending specific patterned signal to the mate in the filth,
On the banks of the river and top of the trees,
Thousands of male little lanterns hungry for love,
Equally mad glowworms send the specific light of memo.
The joyous moment and union confirm the continuation,
Of species that mesmerize the human to merriment.
One wicked glowworm, hungry for nutrients,
She sent the signal to lure the lovelorn male.
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Happy Labour's Day!
Behind the men on the street,
responsible for cleaning and hygiene,
Behind the men on the site,
who work under sun and rain,
Behind the men in the factories,
who work with machines and maladies,
Behind the men in the fields,
who sweat and dry that with dirty rugs,
Behind the men in the conditioned offices,
who have to slouch and repeat the diction,
Behind every professional and politician,
who have to do the particular work and prove,
there are few mouth at home,
earnestly waiting for them.
To keep the food on the table,
to provide cloth and shelter,
to educate and medicate,
to love, care and cherish,
Most labor goes for love,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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On The Verge Of
Though alchemists in every continent worked hard,
to change the cheap metals into the precious gold,
they had never succeeded as it was not the truth,
hidden in the electronic configuration and a myth,
myth of mummy's resurrection from the pyramids and a cave,
myth of witch's spell and poor women's haunted look,
myth of piped piper and the following of the rats loot,
myth of the split ocean that paved the way for the joy walk,
myth of human intelligence and its relation to the races,
myth of ether that found in the space,
myth of flat earth, myth of spirit,
all are not lies, but steps taken to find the truth,
truth hidden in nature, that has hundred more elements,
everything derived from these, even the love and lust,
even the diseases and wellness,
concept and convenience of communication,
We have found something to explore other things,
we cloned the new things to produce substitute organs,
We are one step backward to find that God,
Who controls us to be happy and sad,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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