Wrinkles A Poem
wrinkles i see in her
and the rock
one withered by weather
and the other by fate
who is to blame
one does not know
both stand glaring
telling a story
this is what i bring to you
the truth to feel
the truth to see
Subramanian Iyer

the first breeze that blew across the bay..
warm fresh and chirpy, it knew not what love was
the breeze caressed the waves and the bay knew not what to say
mild breeze and the soft waves
the breeze thought it was love and so did the bay
blinded and smitten in the interlude of passion,
little did they realize what life held in its way
the storm crashed, the breeze was to be gail
and violent waves rose in anger from the bay
what held them together was not love
but a timely season of spring on its way
they parted for it was rains again
the breeze cried and the bay knew not what to say…..

of stones and rituals
of god and god men
of statutes and paraphernalia
of prayers and offerings
of religion and caste
of garlands and flowers
of priests and chants
of holy water and sacred ash
ever wonder
god made man
or man made god....