Chilled Love - Selvaraj Arunachalam

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Résumé :
Evolution happened for so many billions of years by making love among all living beings. This 'love' emotion is like the tears and happiness and sad that are inbuild in our 'system' that cannot be altered or initiated. The first poem I wrote in the series was 'An Ode To Mom'. Honestly speaking, I wrote this poem on December 5, 2016, when the then chief minister of Tamil Nadu J Jayalalithaa 'officially' declared dead by the hospital authorities. Everyone calls and ex-CM Jayalalithaa also likes people calling (hailing) her fondly as 'Amma' (mother). Something pricks me, as I lost my mother S Vaikundammal in 2003. Then I wrote this poem. Likewise, every poem has some intention. For instance, I still remember an accident in which a group of people including the bride and bridegroom who were travelling on the carrier of a tractor near Sriperumbudur charred to death after a tanker carrying benzene chemical spilled on them in the afternoon. I rushed to the accident spot in 1994 as a junior reporter at Maalaimalar (a vernacular newspaper), as per my editor's instruction, and I reported the story. I incorporated the sequences in one of my poems. Once I visited an old age home. I saw a good-looking man entering the home with an old man. He spoke to him normally and later, he admitted him at the elderly home and left the place. The ingredients of most of the poems contain 60 per cent truth and 40 per cent imagination. This percentage may vary in a few poems.

Sommaire:
Evolution happened for so many billions of years by making love among all living beings. This 'love' emotion is like the tears and happiness and sad that are inbuild in our 'system' that cannot be altered or initiated. The first poem I wrote in the series was 'An Ode To Mom'. Honestly speaking, I wrote this poem on December 5, 2016, when the then chief minister of Tamil Nadu J Jayalalithaa 'officially' declared dead by the hospital authorities. Everyone calls and ex-CM Jayalalithaa also likes people calling (hailing) her fondly as 'Amma' (mother). Something pricks me, as I lost my mother S Vaikundammal in 2003. Then I wrote this poem. Likewise, every poem has some intention. For instance, I still remember an accident in which a group of people including the bride and bridegroom who were travelling on the carrier of a tractor near Sriperumbudur charred to death after a tanker carrying benzene chemical spilled on them in the afternoon. I rushed to the accident spot in 1994 as a junior reporter at Maalaimalar (a vernacular newspaper), as per my editor's instruction, and I reported the story. I incorporated the sequences in one of my poems. Once I visited an old age home. I saw a good-looking man entering the home with an old man. He spoke to him normally and later, he admitted him at the elderly home and left the place. The ingredients of most of the poems contain 60 per cent truth and 40 per cent imagination. This percentage may vary in a few poems....