It is a tragic Irony that now a days, it is really friends, our dearest friends, who are our real enemies...one, they know our weakness, second, they can infiltrate into our boundaries, un trespassed by our enemies, whom we don’t allow....It is really with a “friendly smile” that all these sellers, insurance agents and preachers of religion invade us....

“Age Counts”, When we age, though we look young or younger in the case of some, thanks to modern techniques, mentally maturity is what makes us feel the absurdity of the physical attraction alone as a cause for lively interactions....then what will the blind do....poor blinded sons of God...........

“Animals ..But With Two Legs”, Wonder why we don’t feel the nakedness of animals, or rather why they don’t feel their nakedness always...how humorous it will be if all the animals suddenly recognizing their nakedness goes into textile shops hunting for dresses...ha ha ha

“An Answer”, Dear friend, As long as your emotions and feelings and your heart and your looks perceive only beauty in every being, that is as long as you are poet at heart, you could find only beauty in the female...it is not her perfection or fault, but your fullness which gives you a healthy perception....

“Advertisement”, let me support and add to your poem with a poetic way of expression …. Hope you are agree with …. Lalitha

The balance in my town

weighs honor cheaply
and dollars outweighs aptly
this is a purchasing world
the values diminishing
prices accelerating
man to man
humanity sullied
in the hoarding money banks
virtues, have anybody heard of it?
it is an odd man out! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Honor of a Woman?
Is there any woman
who need Honor
when she in poverty
is raped by the Police
or whored by Parents
just for money, and money only.
When hunger attacks
when sickness worsens
when the purchasing currency
liberates and grants you free urgency
Honors like Gods
sleep inside the painted walls
plagued with killing poverty.                        (Poem: LalithaIyer)

“Afghan Wounded” Here, I again want to make my critique

on your poem in a poetry form….with a hope to be appreciated Sir!

When the seed was sown

you were asleep down
When the thorns weeded
you were dancing crowned
When the sprouted Cactus
its spikes bleeding
spared not the passer-by
what use wasting cry
past tense cannot be future tense
Histories could not be Geographied.......       (Poem: LalithaIyer)

Lalitha Iyer

Kochi / INDIA

www.poemhunter.com/lalitha-iyer