Biography of K.S.Subramanian Subramanian
I have been writing poetry for the past 30 years. I handle both traditional rhythms and free verse. I am a post-graduate in English literature and also hold a post-graduate degree in defence studies. I hold a post-graduate diploma in Journalism with a gold medal and Times of India cash award for having secured distinction in the course.
My poems have appeared in several anthologies published at home and brought out by fairly reputed publishers. One of my poems secured a cash prize in Asian Age, a prominent daily published from New Delhi. Poets International, a journal published from Bangalore, has taken my poems regularly and also in the anthologies. Among the many web sites where my poems have appeared are unesco.it, poetrymagazine.com, museindia.com, poetsindia.com, synapse.net., crimsonfeet.org etc.
I also have my blogs in sulekha.com.
K.S.Subramanian Subramanian's Works:
A volume of verse was published titled 'Ragpickers' through the Writers Workshop, Kolkata, a prominent institution in India introducing new generation of writers and poets.It was reviewed in a few well known publications in India. The Workshop has brought out my second volume titled 'Treading on gnarled sand'. It has also been reviewed in quite a few publications.
K.S.Subramanian Subramanian Poems
Seasons Whirlpools throb. The river streaming forth,
2. Dreams Dreams! the primordial instinct in Man that stirred a flame out of stones;
The Changing Face Of Bangalore
The changing face of Bangalore (a buzzling city in India) The day remains a millstone but rolls into years in a flash;
A Middle Class Home
You can see it all in a wedding; clusters spilling the beans about their kin; eyeing the
'I Have No Faith'
Familiarity, a stranger in the dark; Shadows open out with shadowy
Cursor On The Screen
I move with a purpose, from this spot to the other, uncovering a meaning behind every stop;
A Small World
Being alone is a facet of existence. Glued to the rim of his small world every one measures heart’s tense to the beeps of the brain;
Inside The Park.....
The tree's sturdy stem, curved spaciously like a plastic chair, can embalm your aching back, nudge a meditative voyage;
The Changing Face Of Bangalore (A Bustli...
The day remains a millstone but rolls into years in a flash; So is it with the changing face of a city; its face, pockmarked
Paradoxes way to the kernel of truth? So have space-watchers gone on; ended up deeper in
Recast The Web
Recast the web I slip into the nest, and await the harvest;
Scroll Of The Mirage
On its feverish pace to fortune the city sheds its last dregs of soul; Every avenue a gateway to Mammon a piece of land a stage for mafia's role.
A Hard Climb
A sonnet for my 85-year old mother) Time has left its scroll on her; furrows lined by an obdurate will.
INTERNET We sail from one net to the other, Unfolding a leaf of the unknown;
Cursor On The Screen
I move with a purpose,
from this spot to the other,
uncovering a meaning
behind every stop;
Often I pause,
as if not sure;
Then stumble into a spot.
Is there a Mover behind it?
A question haunting many