Each day
i look at the skies
it keeps me in my place
just this man in the human race
a race that can not be won
and on those days i feel sad
but have to just start again
as each and every day i do
this is just how i am
Each Day.

The invitation had arrived and I was over the moon
It is really quite a mouthful, and it is coming soon
The Second International Gender Non-Specific
Inter-Denominational, from Atlantic to Pacific
Freshwater Synchronized Swimming Competition

It's been eight years since the first was won by China
It was held in Illinois in a place known as Medinah
Turns out the swimmers used were just not what they seemed
The chinese had a total of nine atheists on their team

So, the time has come to try again and bring it to fruition
The I.G.N.I.D Freshwater Synchronized Swimming Competition
No date has been decided yet, due to issues with each church
So, even though the invitations out, we're still left in the lurch

Saturday is out because the Jews are all at temple
Sunday, the Christians all must set a good example
Friday, cuts the muslims out for they are at Mosque praying
So we've four days to hold this meet, is what I am now saying

The Chinese team is back again, but the Atheists are out
The team's made up of Christians and two Jews who are devout
Their working on a movement that involves making a cross
The Christian swimmers get it but the Jews don't give a toss

The team from Israel's withdrawn because they are all sitting Shivah
They had a coach drown last week, he hit his head while in the River
The Arabs won't be back, you see they're not interested in the least
They get confused while under water and don't know which way is east

The I.G.N.I.D Freshwater Synchronized Swimming Competition
Will take place in the New Year, we just need to get permission
The Jews won't swim with Muslims, and the Sikhs are up in arms
Because swimming with their daggers may cause other swimmers harm

But, we've got a great location at the lake up at the park
We can use it when we want to , but it must be after dark
Remember keep an eye out for a poster where you pray
We don't know just when we'll hold it, it may just be today

This is your invitation and the event is coming soon
It is really quite a mouthful, and it'll be held beneath the moon
The Second International Gender Non-Specific
Inter-Denominational, from Atlantic to Pacific
Freshwater Synchronized Swimming Competition

See you there...

a day
with contrasts faded
hazy smoke from
distant forest burnings
skylight diffused..
traffic at rushhour
a monotonous din..
such muffled appearances
invited a more
exacting look..

white paint splotches
accidental decorations
to a darkened parkbench
suggests here a distant
supernova explosion..
a motorcycle pistons'
high pitch report
self identification
in the traffic din..
an airliner's orange
contrails laced the
gray cloudless sky..

then a sudden appearance
a haloed quartermoon
light enhancement
with circular glow..
yes contrasts seemed to
speak on this day
bursting the haze...

She minds her little sister
Babysitting in the woods
Flowers bunched up in her hand, primroses perhaps
Devoutly kneeling, she offers them to the child
As hair flows down her back
A long blonde waterfall

The child with open arms
Learns how to receive
And how to give

In a corner a written plea
Take me now for twenty quid
Reduced from twenty five

Unloved, unvalued even for the frame
Now rescued from indignity
And lifted from the skip

Do you believe
that a poem
has not one meaning
                                                                ­                                                                 ­     but imports as numerous
                                                        ­                                                                 ­           as the eyes that experience
                                                      ­                                                                 ­                                     its existence
                                                       ­                                                                 ­               and try to piece together
                                                        ­                                                                 ­              how it exists in their life?
that the core of a poem
is some internal light
that the poet has basked in
which has manifested itself on the page?

                                                          ­                but that for each of us
                                                              ­    who is touched by its presence
                                                        ­                   it is an aurora borealis
                                                        ­                  which holds us rooted
                                                          ­                 panting in excitement
                                                      ­                       lost in admiration
                                             and appreciating that someone somewhere understands?

                                                ­                                                                 ­           that an encounter with a poem
                                                            ­                                                 is like trying to find shapes in the clouds
                                                          ­                                                                 ­       or constellations in the stars
                                                           ­                                                                 ­            or meanings in inkblots

that within its randomness
patterns emerge
and each one  may discover
exactly what one is looking for
                                                             ­                                                           that within this meeting of minds
                                                           ­                                                                 ­     there is an universal connect
                                                         ­                                                                 ­                        a personality test-
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                        that reveals both
                                                            ­                                                                 ­            the reader and the poet

so while reading any poem
it may be worthwhile to think
what did I learn about you?
and what did I learn about myself?

-Vijayalakshmi Harish
18.09.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

From  the pinnacle of the quaint hill,
where a lone tree spreads her parasol,
it would seem one could glide smoothly down,
till the far horizon, where the sea faintly glints,

the sun just floated up, a pink, perfect globe,
changing the color of layers and layers of hills
in many hues of blue, from dark to light-
in to a song of red, only hearts listen,

A bird, not moving wings, soared far above,
round and round, a song bird on the throes-
of a song; it would break in to it soon, I hoped.
*Wind quickly subdued, leaves perked their ears,

With bated breath the hills stood attendant,
the moment was fully pregnant with expectations.