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"ponnaiyar" poems
It is Ponnaiyar Flowing to the Bay Bengal and carries all dire rumour Make everything fine and fertile! This is our sprawling land Our father painted on it with their soul and blood, There was a time, When their crop field remain pour.....   without our slog..... Over the years ....... Many water flows through Ponnaiyar...... Now they don’t called us to transplant their paddy .. Now they don’t called us to harvest their paddy.... Now they don’t called us to harvest their Sugarcane...... Now they love their machine, Over the years .... Many water flows through Ponnaiyar....... My mother once asked ‘who develop machine?’ I replied, ‘Scientist ‘.......... She said ‘they are selfish’............. Over the years Many water flows through Ponnaiyar.......... Now we travel around, and hunt for  living.............. Ponnaiyar still flowing to the Bay of Bengal and caries the memo of our grief and struggle.....
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May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 3:10 AM UTC
jayanra-kr-sarma
Saga of Ponnaiyar
It is Ponnaiyar Flowing to the Bay Bengal and carries all dire rumour Make everything fine and fertile! This is our sprawling land Our father painted on it with their soul and blood, There was a time, When their crop field remain pour.....   without our slog..... Over the years ....... Many water flows through Ponnaiyar...... Now they don’t called us to transplant their paddy .. Now they don’t called us to harvest their paddy.... Now they don’t called us to harvest their Sugarcane...... Now they love their machine, Over the years .... Many water flows through Ponnaiyar....... My mother once asked ‘who develop machine?’ I replied, ‘Scientist ‘.......... She said ‘they are selfish’............. Over the years Many water flows through Ponnaiyar.......... Now we travel around, and hunt for  living.............. Ponnaiyar still flowing to the Bay of Bengal and caries the memo of our grief and struggle.....
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