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don’t you know that it was you
who like the Pied Piper
drew me here to
this cross road where
my ideas collided with you
in a state of bewildered joy
pleasant surprise
in spite of some inherent shyness;
a tendency towards introversion
would not stop
this flow of words
even as the cloak of anonymity
fell apart
like a bee finds the nectar that it is due
Stranger, i found you.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
    12.02.2013
    Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
A poetic conversation with Kirti and Aditya
Even in the scabbard
The sword does not blunt
She sends a warn
When drawn out

Curve still sharp
Promises to hurt
An unruly beholder
She shall bleed you
Should you doubt her skills at all

Her forte does not wean
Even if your memory
Fails to recognize it
Even her silence is fierce
Do not encourage her to ring
She may just prove
All your fears!
Sometimes we tend to underestimate a strong person...just because he / she is dormant! and that is the mistake we do when we arouse them and expect that they shall be weak! We are in for an opposite experience then...
Never underestimate any one...
Crossroads are meant for meeting
Why contest?
Their diametrical being!
Acceptance
Accentuates
And
Accelerates
Alacrity,
Ambition,
Acumen;
Allowing
Astounding
Achievements
And
Accomplishments
All
Alive!
I'm scared to love anyone
I'm scared to let anyone in
I'm scared that all the memories
Will press play and begin
I'm scared to let myself feel
I'm scared to leave this dream
I'm scared to feel something real
Life's harder than it seems
I miss the silence
I miss the feeling without pain
Who am I kidding?
It's always been there
I've never been free
Pain is a part of me
There's only one way to break the chains
Of this eternal pain
This burning flame
This overwhelming shame
Taking the easy way out
Erasing this cloud of doubt
Erasing me
Her hand untangled from the coiled roots

Unraveling from her closing wounds

She stepped atop the mud and soot

And looked upon the crescent moon

She shook while she wept

And as her arms stretched out

She dispersed into a cloud

That lowered back down

Into the swampy ground

And not a sound

Was heard

By anyone
But her
And I
even before
we met
i was
your
memory
of
myself

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
12.02.2013
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
underneath this quite white sheet
a ghost
pretends to be
a person
with a heartbeat, a life breath
a claim at an elusive mortality
a spirit in denial of
its drained vitality
haunting unknowingly
striking fear
even as it tries to silence
the clanging chains of
its past
monsterized
it has no other identity

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  10.02.2013
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Rising sun gently kisses her brows,
she transforms to a rose,
on that  ethereal vision of beauty,
he goes through a metamorphosis.
Fingers point in to seal what
allows waves to enter. It happens
naturally, attempting to
keep out a
sound linked to a dream.
Each day more deferred.
Singing along does
nothing but intensify it,
leaving my throat dry.
Eyes wander up
to the sky like
it has the answer. A
desire the size of a raisin.
hidden deep with in
bleakness; the
noise blinded by the sun.
Inside cues are unheard or
overlooked; left to fester.
Tunes once vibrant like
fireflies illuminating a
black field create a sore
unrecognized. Oblivious and
ignorant. Then
is what I run
away from; yet it does
not make the hum disappear; it
only dissolves the stink
to an unnoticeable hint like
bread rotten.
My core once full of meat.
I marched to the beat or
maybe it formed a crust
around all thoughts and
notified me when sugar
oozed out over
the brim of my truth. Like
examples before I fall prey to a
slide syrupy
and sweet
pulling me away. Maybe
I am scared it
will be just
perfect. Skin sags
as time passes like
light wind, unfelt; a
sensation soul heavy
fumbling to un-load.
Yesterday I began to listen or
correctly hear what does
exist confined. It
is looking to explode.
This is written in the form of a golden shovel which Terrance Hayes uses. If you read each end word of each line you will be reading one of my all time favorite poems by Langston Hughes called A Dream Deferred. The entire poem is made up of two poems; I wrote the poem that leads left to right.
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