Biography of veeraiyah subbulakshmi
veeraiyah subbulakshmi Poems
Shelves of books with variant topics: Medicine, Engineering and comics, Languages, Management and Marketing, Tourism, Text books and Computing,
A Man on The Bridge!
On that old bridge, during the last fight, Threw the ring into the river to drown and rest, Returned to find that young heart in the old body, Still holding the placard of ‘I am sorry' to the wind,
Eye Can't Lie!
Non verbal signals, Understand the pupils, When these are bigger, smaller and normal, One is attracted to another, the iris open wider, Black grape balls in the white eye balls glitter.
A Child In A Man
Testosterone muscled men have, The Top and the center, the caves, Something is there to do the basic, Nothing is there to think angelic,
The Story Of A River!
That empty river was filled with water, Running water never stagnant to collect litter, Clean and clear to see the treasures stored, Heavy pebbles, the quick fish on the soften rocks,
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,
A bag of air!
A bag, that is filled with air, Once torn, the life is gone. Liters of cream to polish, Boxes of moisturizers to nourish,
when we look for our next dozen sweaters, there are thousands have no even one. wrap themselves in rags that are dirty, lie on the sides hearing heavy sounds.
We can do it...
When telling of lies make someone happy, let us lie, When speaking of truth hurt someone, let us lie, When the spouse asks us to assess, let us lie, When the friends pester for opinion, let us lie,
A Snail In The Rain!
The loads of betrayal dwell in the hearts, It's so heavy even to lift the head, The councilors ask me to fly high in the sky, As the dove of a soul released from the body,
Tears may wash away the dirt from the eyes and the hurt from the heart. Fear will wipe away the courage from the heart, and fill the eyes with tears.
baby dumping in the world!
Mutated flowers and fruits dropp as snowflakes, Born mutated human suffer and seek to be concerned, The grain that implanted in the womb sucked, The fetus formed out of wedlock washed out,
Money and humanity..
Thousands of years of life, In the small huts beside the rivers, The rain has no power, The wind has no power,
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,
an ungrateful person..
When there are so many flowers bloom,
I always want to look at the thorns,
And the pain which spring out tears,
When there are so many boxes of gifts,
Scattered in the path of my target,
I have never opened many, only aware,
Of a few, regrets rule my heart and soul,
I am very ungrateful and think only of myself,
When I walk on the piles of grains and hay,