Poetry is the life-blood of a society.
It is the hope of the oppressed
Poetry is the fountain of joy
Velvi encourages new poets
This site they can post poems

Dr.Parasuram Ramamoorthi has published one volume of poetry: Norwich Musings 2003. He writes poetry as a hobby and encourages many friends to write. Poetry often is the communication between friends. We write about our lives, the tsunami and anything that affects us.


I am happy to inform you that FORTITUDE a publishing house in Kalamazoo Michigan has commissioned me to edit a volume of poetry by young people in the spectrum. Any one in the spectrum may write the poem. Some guidelines:

A poem should be the original work of the person in the spectrum (Special care should be taken to use the author's words)

It can be of any length but a minimum of twenty lines per poem

The work should be submitted in MS word format

If the editor feels that some poems are to be rewritten they will be sent back to the authors with editor's comments.

A kind of mentoring the writer's work will be done

Themes: not confined to autism. Can be anything under the sun (under the carpet too)

Feel free to write free verse or use any genre like a sonnet or ode or ballad. Flexibility of the form is stressed in the selection

Dates: the first draft should be submitted by 30 October 2009

The volume is expected to be released on April 2, 2010 World Autism Awareness day.

Go ahead, grab a pen and paper or sit on your laptop
Let us see how we imagine the world from the spectrum

Best wishes to all budding poets.


Some new poems:


Begins with a slow rhythm
Slow opening of petals
Dew drops spilling on the grass
Stem stepping out slowly
There is a design
A composition.
Everything composed to perfection.

A seed
Containing the tree
(Crush the seed
You see nothing)
Let it sink into the soil
Sun's rays kiss the soil
Now blossoming
Do you recognize the seed now
To compose a tree
Laden with fruits
Nests for singing birds.

Song of birds
A composition for dawn
Singing the praise of Sun
Rising above the mountains
Displacing the snow
Flowing down the stream
Stream playing with shortskirt girls
distant lands
Dancing themselves
Stream- orchestra
Another composition for the Day.


I am all water
Flow from the height
After the deluge
Just a flow
No floods
Keeps flowing
In all directions.
I cleanse
Soothe the tired nerves
Relaxing the body and mind.

I am all water
Growing the flora and fauna
Turtles fish weeds
Shells salmon cod
Whales shrimps
Giving the world enough to eat.

I am Ganges and Volka
Amazon and even a little stream
Named after a village don
Go around the world in water
You see
Water water everywhere
There are drops to drink
No worry
I am full of the water of Life.

No one in this world died
For want of water
People die for want of love
I give you peace
Joyous fountain of Life
Come drink
The eternal water of peace
That floweth from me.

Come play with me
Dive into me
Splash me
Let me splash you all over
Touch all your pores
Kiss your feet

Sprinkle me all over your space
I am all for play
Jalakreeda all your life.


Two men playing a game of chess

Two men playing a game of chess
In a public part at Sarajevo
Twenty men watching the game
Offering suggestions
I have seen men in Indian villages
Playing similar games
Yet it looked strange
May be because it is chess
I had thought it's a highly focused game
Clash of the brains
Here two men
Sipping Heineken
Playing chess
Seemed odd
Who won the game
I don't know
Winning matters less
Playing was fun
Watching them more fun.



Search everywhere
In every cell
Find your passion
What you want to do
Take the risk
You will find it with in you
It is not outside
Just inside
Go deep
Knock at every closed door
Open the windows
See the streak of light
Coming through the crevice
Follow that
Yes Natalie you are
On your road to Peace
Joyous fountain springs for you
Drink the nectar from the spring
2007 is your year
For change and peace
. - Ram, Dec 2006


I walked softly
On the grass barefoot
Felt the wetness,
Buttercups fondling the sole
Leaves of grass encircling my toes and fingers
Sending green fuse through the veins;
My blue shirt
Wearing a tinge of green
I walked softly.

I feel no guilt without shoes.
When I knelt down.
My knees touching the soft flesh of the grass-
My heart rose,
My arms uplifted,
I touched God.
Oh, He smells Green!


When we were small the bonfires were huge
In the dark before dawn
And the cold fingers of chill morning breezes
Violated our bodies naughtily
When we were growing up the dark held terrors
That could not be voiced
For fear of disbelief
Truth is not welcome to grown-ups.

Now we are grown up
We still fear the dark and the cold
We teach the same to the offspring
In different ways, may be
But as we bequeath our terrors and agonies
Fear of disbelief
We don’t really relinquish what we hold

The fear holds us in thrall
The terrors shape our lives
Agony teaches us useful lessons
But still,we pass it on, oh we pass it on.



I knocked at the right door
opened new vistas
true cobwebs circled my head
once cleared
I saw beauty and trust
Walking towards me.

Unopened doors make a lot of noise
Lubrication helps
I intend to lubricate .

Its not my intention to cause ripples
to throw stones in still ponds
let me just allow the flow
rest is orgasm.


We began with power,
Power of the mind
To say no, yes

Washing her hair with the blood of Duryodhana
Burning Madurai with her breast
Grim’s Town
The power of the colours
Black versus white
Male versus female
Large phalluses from Aristophanes
Vaginal monologues from feminists
All centred on power
Power of Periods.
Kings and subjects
Everything power centred.
Do you know
Where is the centre of power
Keep guessing
Somewhere in the Mind/body politics.?

Somewhere in a station loo
Three men with their pants down
Discussing power
Macho power
Ending up with tissues.

A photographer failing to click his subject
Power failed?
Mind failed?
Money powered relationships failed.
Power …
May be,
Is what you do not have.


Some poems from Norwich Musings 2003:

Throw the past away through the door
Reenters through the window
Brush it under the carpet
Surfaces when you rearrange
Stock it in the cupboard
Rattles all the time
Carry it to the garden
Dug a deep pit
Bury it there
A dog unearths the past.

Better to cremate the past
Burn it away
Let no embers remain
Burn, burn completely
Throw the ashes into the flowing river
Let the ashes merge with the sea
Your past is now past.


We mask all our life
Except when we are alone
Except when we sleep
let the flow happen.

Smoothens wrinkles
Builds bridges
Mends broken fences
Mask, oh Mask
With out you life would be hell.

Imagine having to put up with
Without masks.

There’s mask even between
A mother and daughter
Father and son
Husband and wife
Oh I am glad masks exist.

“I think
Therefore I am”
I wear masks
Therefore I am
Teach me to wear the mask
Stay through the performance,Oh Mask
Stay until I want,
Let me choose when to unmask myself.


She came without any notice
Unlocked the door
Walked to my soft bed
Woke me up gently
Her touch was chill
Felt the chillness in my forehead
In my face
The whole body shook
As she caressed
A new sensation all over my body
Never felt anything like that before.

She lifted me up
Oh do I weigh
She had no difficulty
Undressed me
Took me in her arms
Almost by force
Walked through the teak door
Carved with swans and lotuses
The door passed away from us.

I felt her so close
As she rode the black stallion
Across the seven oceans
Through thick forests
Where robins were cooing
Silver cascade
Flowing like her hair
She stopped
It was just a golden glow

My son was writing the obituary for The Hindu.


I played in the pond
Ripples caressing my back
Filling my blank soul
Mystic joy
I see the sun and moon
Becoming one
Continents dissolving
One big fire
Is that you ?


I pass by a burial ground
Every day on my way to work
It burns almost every day
With a hundred people strewn over the ground
Discussing politics
Waiting for the rituals to finish.
Women breast-beating
Their grief
Men with shaved heads
Exhibit their kinship with the deceased.

There is a small stream
Often dry
Except when the monsoon has
Delivered as the per the promise
Where men and women bathe
Wash their dirt off
Sing of the Lord’s names
One hundred and eight times
Before they reach home
Where another set of rituals begin.

I often wonder
If there would be any rituals
On my death
I do not desire any
I want to be burnt to ashes
My ashes immersed in rivers
Fields and thrown up the sky
Without much rituals.
I want no ritual
Where my son has to pretend
Or my people to show off
How much they loved me.
Let me be burnt in Peace
And joy.


© 2004 Velvi