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I feel the caress of my own fingers
on my own neck as I place my collar
and think pityingly
of the kind women I have known.
Gen. Lees invasion of the North written by himself—

    In eighteen sixty three, with pomp,
      and mighty swell,
    Me and Jeff’s Confederacy, went
      forth to sack Phil-del,
    The Yankees the got arter us, and
      giv us particular hell,
    And we skedaddled back again,
      And didn’t sack Phil-del.
I brushed my hand across what you said
then remembered
the exact moment I discovered
my favorite hiding place
where my heart could take deep breaths
and move away from the shadows
speaking as echoes across my mind.  
I could feel them move far, far away
from my beating heart
taking me to heights
where I could escape to a better place,
I thought I'd never find.

The deepest pain.....all the hurt I feel,
becomes trivial in this journey
where I define myself
and rises above my existence
here in the solitude
I find
within this hiding place.
Here, my heart becomes softly addicted
to leaving behind
the complications which cling
to the railings
of all my inspiration
when I attempt to write
the song of a nightingale
and every bad memory.........
erase.
Copyright ©2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
STOP.

Don't move.

Don't you know?
A moment is too small to exist
in very much space at all.

Haven't you heard that time is like a bird?
It can't fly backwards,
and moreover, it will
NEVER.
Let.
You.
Catch it.

So please. I'm begging you.
Don't move.

You'll scare the moment away.

Because you see, I was thinking

we could just live here,
you and I.
Stay forever trapped
in this time and place,
silent and still
as the grave,
until eventually,
the world would forget about us.

Our moment has no place in the world, you see.

We would be expelled
and left behind.
We would be a satellite,
around and outside of time.
We would be a trail of exhaust
left lingering as time drove past.

We would be a feather
left on the ground
as time flew away.

But I wouldn't mind.
And something tells me
that you wouldn't, either.

Because moments as rich as these
are wealthy enough to support
not just one soul, but several.
These moments are banquets
for life
and love,
fear, pain,
sorrow, passion.
Again I say, life.

And this moment is a feast.

So I propose that we stay.
I propose that if we do blink,
that we are ever so cautious
when we open our eyes,
because the breeze from our lashes
could blow it away.

I propose that if we do eat,
we make like faeries
and feast on time and not space,
so that we'll never need their mortal food again.

I propose that if we need to smile,
that we instead choose to glow.
We could be like a star,
seen from so far off
and with such beautiful intensity
that people forget that,
that light is not the light of that star,
but the light of a star
that was so
very long ago.

I could be that.
And something tells me
that you could, too.


Don't move.
Don't say anything.
Don't tell me you love me --
I already know.
Don't tell me you're happy --
we will never be happier.
Don't ask me to kiss you --
our hearts are so entwined,
like vines of ivy
up an old brick wall,
that if we move,
they might break.

Now remember this.

Moments like these cannot be created;
they are found.

Surround yourself with beauty,
so that when you find one,
you can live forever.

And do not EVER
move so fast
that you would scare it away
before it lands.
lazy afternoon
meandering through the canals
gondola and gondolier both a touch of the romantic
                                                       ­                             wanting to lose myself
                                                          ­                 in the belly of this beautiful city
                                                            ­                                get so lost i could never get out
                                                            ­                           bottle of vino, a couple of delicate wine glasses

                                                        ­                 eyes only for you, but my ears are Vivaldi’s
                                                      ­                    or just the trilling notes of that old Hindi tune
                                                                ­     with some Italian verses thrown in for good measure
poetry flows here not water
               the ghosts of Byron and Browning haunt them
                                                            ­                     * time must stand still for me
                                                              ­                    as i explore this fantasy*



-Vijayalakshmi Harish
08.10.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Have always wanted to go to Venice..this is how I imagine it to be!!!
and the "old Hindi tune" is of course, "Do Lafzon Ki Hai" sung by Ashaji & R D Burman in the Hindi movie The Great Gambler, starring Amitabh and Zeenat Aman. That's the song that started my obsession with Venice.
Here's the youtube link to the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waeAGdCvJd8
If it was easy,
what would we do,
Would we still act like we have something to prove,
Would it be the same,
I think we'd grow bored,
God knew what he was doing making us this way.
Just yesterday we were arguing,
Things were hard,
But we aren't the kind to give up,
Or just walk away,
So we'll stay,
No matter what road we choose,
Or where we go,
We'll arrive at the same place
We have the same goal,
And I promise I'll always stay.

— The End —