Best Poem of K.S.Subramanian Subramanian

Tribute To An Industrialist Friend
A long, tiring journey; lids close
for the night, not for sleep;
Memories, some warm, some blasé
crowd over leaving no moss.
Under the blazing Sun I take a peep
At one to let my spirits rise;
He. An odd mix of beauty and brain
dallied with the wisdom of the Muse.
Self-made, well-travelled but . . .
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A Middle Class Home
You can see it all
in a wedding; clusters
spilling the beans about
their kin; eyeing the
debutants into wedlock with
their web of envy-laced malice.

Their hearths at home
have been burning;
comfort levels as good
as any one else; yet a
nameless vacuum; they
live with it, like . . .
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