Categories
Discrimination Poetry

Not The Colour.


The colour white has a pride

while black is a deride

this be found in the race

the whites have the prominent place

the blacks are  shown  the back seat

with that the whites  are upbeat

with a thought they are superior

walk with their  eyes on the sky

never do they bend even try

cast a scorn on other colours

includes yellow, brown  together

they condemn the black

and keep them out of track

snort at the other coloured

in a sort of a vision blurred

refuse to see the reality

with a high-handedness  in totality

that be their rule and reason always

mostly they degrade others in  every way.

I expect a tirade against me in a short while

as my friends  would not approve my style

not that of the writing as it is obviously correct

but that of my thoughts  in a direct.white privilege

Categories
obvious Poetry real virtual

The Obvious and The Virtual


The raging fire

is a big liar

mean not the real  one

but that in a subtle tone

think a little while

would come to know in style

it is the burn in the heart

both caught and bought

it burns and burns

it churns and churns

never does it  escapes through

not does it activates true

it is continuous  in a strain

limits itself not in vain

as it flares up with animosity

gathers too much velocity

ranges on a scale too high

goes up and down with a sigh

the vindictiveness bursts off

crosses through  with a tip off

strikes with a venom great

that is the  known  fate

which topples all in a speed

shatters all castes and creed

a diffidence with a deviation

an inference with an instruction

that fire is a lesser evil than the other

from the heart with all its fretterfire  virtual

Categories
glee. Poetry puffs slow

The Train


It is a big train

very long with chain

puffs through the  places

very slow not in a race

carries thousands together

young and old together

meanders with a grace

negotiates with a space

a lovely sight to see

kids view it with a glee.train

Categories
burnt.all fire Poetry possibility.

The Fire Burnt All


The fire raged high

went up to the sky

the redness was bright

created a fright

it became night

the fire rose higher

it never got tired

it stood there for long

burnt  all in a wrong

that which was beautiful

turned ugly in a minute

great is the possibility

greater is the impossibility

greatest is the impetuosity

as it relates to animosity.fire

Categories
Haiku Poetry

Right, Rite And Write


Take the right

follow the sacred rites

much to write rites

Categories
city old. Poetry

My City –Madurai


Born in an  ancient city

makes me tall and gritty

know not how long it is there

its loveliness is beyond share

old it is on all sides

roads narrow and not wide

houses  are  very close

well laid and  in rows

people are simple and friendly

very traditional not trendy

called as a big village

as it does not cause a  mad rage

has all the facilities in  abundance

it holds a lot of references

a city of great  fame

a  place with many names

the ancient city of mine is Madurai

an old Meenakshicity of temples

Categories
ghostly indulgence. infraction Poetry pressure

The Anger With A Pang


It is anger that kills you

 the fury and temper

 with a vigour devours you

attacks  in  a bunch altogether

clad the robes of pressure and infraction

undress and expose your real skin

the make dos seal you to a traction

you turn a fish without a fin

the pangs  of temper dismantle your  covetous

the devastation expresses a distraughtness

the angst  distracts the  attention from the focus

 as could be seen only in a ghostly indulgence

anger

Categories
fragment Poetry recognition. reward

A Big Thanks


It is an award

the best reward

I keep it in record

it is to my accord

I thank the Poets

who extended it in quiet?

I am too small  a fragment

Week 80 the perfect poet award tiny pebble  in the basement

write what I know

mostly in a flow

and especially this award  coveted

tells me how my poems are interpreted

a big thanks to all of you

Categories
nag Poetry prolomg

My Silly Song


The restlessness is there for long

why does it nag  so long?

Know not how long?

visualise it to be very long

guess it would prolong

may be to a furlong

would  take me along

with not too pleasant tong song

it is nothing wrong

as the clock chimes ding dong

it is a reminder of the gong

a bell that holds you like a tong

as you negotiate through the throng

does it sound silly, my song?

Categories
bump jump nonsense. Poetry rhythm spring

Modern By Chance.


The dance I see

keeps me at sea

it is a diffidence

a  complete deviance

where traditions

have no introductions

rhythm breaks with hiccups

expression not in up

it is a dance yet

I go for a bet

it is a jump

exactly a bump

a spring above

a fall down

that is a dance

most modern  by chance

makes me fall into a trance.

not  in the right sense

as it seems to miss the cadence modern dance