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'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"

Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"

"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."

C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."

"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."

"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.

"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."

X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
Rolling
stone
           tum-ba-ling,
           trem-ba-ling
down
to
the
stream
wide
           leaving
           green
           aside
Determination
boy!
cups of warm tea
shared together
over dog eared pages
on a cemented bench
covered with leaves
raindrops singing in tandem
to a rhythm known only to frogs
and here we sit
staring into the mist
wrapped in the warm blanket of silence

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
27.12.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
This is how an angel dies,
a strange temptation caresses me;
and I scream my hatred of the one who created me.
I'm lost in the dark,
littered with bruises that even I fail to recognize.
Constantly I will blame myself,
while convincing others that I don't need them.
I say things like,
"I have done it on my own,
I need to do it on my own."
The smoke quietly rises on the spokes of which I stand.
The brighter ones tell me of my guilt,
of why I don't deserve what I yearn for.
So once again I am a little girl,
reaching out to all of the appealing men before me;
so desperate for their attention.
Silently I go up in flames,
just as urgently I am dowsed with water.
hastily I fall to my knees,
begging for redemption from the one who created me.
*this is how an angel dies
that tiny **** cloth for a worldly affectation
worn for vanity grew without any cessation
engulfing my being swiftly in total negation.
turned now a cloak black of inhuman sedation
a second skin becoming skin itself, then seeped
to the very bones and a coagulated heart reaped
of consequence,truth layered the real concealed,
the self an image, just mirrored slick in Gucci attire
a fig leaf terrible now hiding the whole,wise tree entire!

*PS-no offense meant for Gucci designs or the beautiful people who wear them!
Far
     Away
                 Is
                    Never
                              ­     Far
                                          Enough...
          ­                                                 I
                                                              A­m
                                                               ­       Still
                                                    ­                         *Seen
if some day, i did forget
my name
my place
and everything that I did
would I still remember
how to write?
is it like cycling- a skill once learnt
that is never forgotten
or is it a gift
once lost, never to be found?
would I recognize these words I’ve penned
with passion and pain mingled-
would I feel the joyful comfort I’ve felt
in their expression?

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
25.12.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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