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He’s doing a crossword, I’m doing the dishes.
“What is that word?”, he asks,
“the one that means given to incessant laughter”.
“Joyful, gleeful, cheerful?”
‘No that’s not what I meant”
“Mirthful, merry, enjoyment”
“That’s just not it”
“Well, how many letters is it?”
(Now I’m getting interested)
“Eight”
“What does it begin with?”
“I haven’t got that yet, but it does end with a N”
“a N…Hmmm..Oh! I’ve got it”
“What?”
“I can’t remember-but its on the tip of my tongue”
“That’s not helping”, he adds with sarcasm
“I’m giving it all I’ve got but the word just won’t come”
“Try saying it in your mind,
what does it sound like?”

“Aquarium”
“So, its starts with an A?”
“Yeah, that’s for sure”
“We’ve got to find this lethologica of yours a cure!”
“I’ve got! I’ve got it! Abderian is the word!”

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
The word "lethologica" describes the state of not being able to remember the word you want. It is a psychological disorder. The related non-pathological condition is the "tip of the tongue" phenomenon. The above is an imaginary conversation.
you and I are a story
with an open ending
each person who sees us together
writes a different version
                                                         ­        some say we’re a fairytale
                                                       ­          some say we’re a tragedy
                                                         ­                                                            for others were are a comedy
                                                          ­                                                           or just a short story
in some minds we’re a thriller
going on all kinds of adventures
in others an expression of horror
two people who just should not be together

                                                       ­     the way I see it sweetheart
                                                      ­             we are all of these
                                                        but­ the most important thing
                                                        is that our story has no ending
                                                       and that’s the way it should be

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
        12.09.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
I want to be,
                   though
                              nothingness
                                                  is also me.
Ads for Christmas specials
Litter magazines and such
Oooh another Christmas Carol
Tiny Tim has a new crutch

A Christmas Story musical
The Rockettes on TV
I'd rather watch old re-runs
Of Andy Williams 'neath the tree

The stores are stocked, the lights are bright
There's tinsel everywhere
There's Romney and Obama Christmas tags
I mean is this really fair?

There's Kingdom of Thrones nativities
And guess who plays the baby
There' s something wrong inherently
When you stop to buy it...maybe.

Christmas got away from us
It's more commercial than I've seen
There's more crap on the shelves these days
Than there is at Hallowee'n

It's only just September
and I'm already done in
by my Christmas Season overload
I can't believe the state I'm in

What happened to Goodwill to Men
And Seasons Greetings at the mall
They've been replaced by anger
And gift cards that are given out by all

This year I have decided
to change how I celebrate this silly thing
I'm going home to bed right now
And I will Hibernate till spring !!!
I want to live in the embrace
of these rain clouds so ominous so dark
and yet within them somewhere
there must be a spark
why else to they set alight such illicit pleasure

the drizzle burns upon my skin
and glistens like a diadem in my hair
petrichor teasing gently before the shower brings
a volley of dreams crashing down here
a bird within my chest sings

a mizzle is just not enough
the darkness without echoes the darkness within
I want a deluge, I want to drown
want to be borne away and lose control
want to stand in the rain and feel this sweet pain

I just want to feel – don’t want to think
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
        11.09.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
i love to write poetry with food
the clickety-clack of the knife on the dining board is my metre
the veggies going choppity-chop are the words
the masalas are the embellishments
that lift them to another level altogether
the pressure cooker whistles,
something in the frying pan sizzles
the flavours rise and fill my home
with the smell of cooking
the gravy thickens
the pulse quickens
in anticipation of the tasting
the aromas tease as i’m tempering
a little coriander for the topping
and I’m done!
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   09.09.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
"There is no sincerer love than the love of food." - George Bernard Shaw.
Just realized that a foodie like me hasn't written any poems about food! Had to set that right!
 Sep 2012 Eileen Prunster
martin
Jay                                                                      Horatio

By the door in the flower ***                            The man who planted all these trees
Among the beans in the veggie plot                Alas I knew him well
In the lawn, everywhere -little oak trees-         He did not see them to maturity
Do you know who puts them there?                How long our years we cannot tell

I've only ever seen it once                                  Now strong and spreading to their prime
He does it when you're not around                  They seem to thank him for their chance of life
He does it taking lots of care                             In gratitude they sway and soar
He puts an acorn in the ground                        And breathe for him as he can breathe no more

He thinks he's coming back to it                      We thank the Jay for acorns
When he feels the need                                      Unwittingly he sows
But mostly he forgets                                         And plant like him we must
So germinates the seed                                       Although like him we may not see them fully grow

                                       As I look up at this fresh green canopy
                                             I think of all the tiny saplings
                                                   And of what will be
there are words
beyond understanding
and those
closeby with meaning..
then there are others
standing between..
these enable our lives
invite searches
promise possibilities
of everywhere finding
a connecting light..

these connections are
overlooked often
found on borders
on our paths
unassuming..
but when gone
all disappears..
simplest perhaps
a connecting 'and'
a lighted circuit
showing anew
both this and that...
image @ polarityinplay.blogspot.com
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