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the evening shadows of my psyche
stretch out  towards you
at the days end i await your arrival
when the world begins to stir
toward home or to the tavern
and the evening lamps sing
i seek you out
to walk alongside me
on my quiet path
with gulmohar carpets
and dusky branches
watching over us.
tarry awhile, walk slow
lest the moment flies by too fast
what else is there left to do
but share this nameless bond?

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   09.01.2013
  Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish,
yesterday’s tormentor
is todays peace-keeper
strange are the ways of this world
stranger still are my own perceptions
now here, now there
they prance about

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   08.01.2013
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
I am a little poet with a pen in my hand,
Trying to capture the world in black and white,
Creating my world like a sorcerer with a wand,
Its imaginary and joyful, filled with light.

By - *Venkat Raghavan
A few months ago, I saw you for the first time, and
I’ll probably never see you again.
I was at the mall with the friends who aren’t friends at all;
I think that day was the last time I saw them, too.
I walked into the food court and up to the stand where you were working,
And the first thing I noticed was that you were very pretty
Golden hair, bright amber eyes, and a smile
More sincere than what I was used to.
You were older than me, but couldn’t have been
More than eighteen,
And when I ordered a drink, you spoke in a kind voice
That sounded like music.
But this is what really made me remember you:
You reached your pale arm out to take the money from my hands,
And stretching from the base of your palm up to your elbow
Were rows upon rows of scars—some faded with time, but others
Red and scabbed, having been placed on your skin recently
By the burning kiss of a blade.
And so many things went through my mind at that moment, and
I still think them to this day.
I wonder if you noticed my gaze, trailing up your arm and into your
Eyes that shone like mirrors.
I wonder if you wanted to say something to me, but didn’t.
I wonder if you had finished that chapter in your life,
Or if you were already anticipating the next time you could open another vein,
And let the blood fall with your tears.
I wonder if you even remember me, or anything about that day.
Am I crazy for holding onto this memory?
I wish I had read your nametag, so I could’ve known the
Name behind the pretty face and untold story.
I wish I knew the reason behind your sadness;
The truth behind those rust-coloured eyes.
But mostly, I wish that I hadn’t been wearing a jacket, or that
I would’ve rolled up my sleeves, so that you could have seen
The rows upon rows of scars that lined my own arms—permanent reminders
Of the days that life wasn’t worth living—
Because they reflected yours almost perfectly.
And I wish you could have seen them, so that you could have known
That you’re not alone.
And I hope you’re still alive,
That this poem didn’t reach you too late,
Because I want you to know
I care.
This actually happened to me, and has been bothering me for a while...
 Jan 2013 Aditya Bhaskara
Ajay
Give up agony
coerce unrequited love
make my nerves tingle
when is a work of art not just a work of art?

at what point does it stop
being only a thing of beauty
and transform-
the self
the society
the Universe
                                                                when does it transcend the real
                                                                and become something magical
                                                               helping one fall through –
                                                               the rabbit hole
                                                                the wormhole
                                                                the black hole
                                                                                                                                      when does it become
                                                                                                                                     an unstoppable force
                                                                                                                                     and cause –
                                                                                                                                     a revolution
                                                                                                                                     an evolution
                                                                                                                                     an absolution


                              and at which moment does  it make you stop in your tracks
                                                          stop breathing and exclaim
                            “Gar Firdaus, ruhe zamin, hamin asto, hamin asto, hamin ast!”

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   05.01.2013
  Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish,
"If there is heaven on earth, it is here, it is here, it is here!"
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