Once I read a poem
Quite a long time ago
It wasn't especially happy
But it was also no tale of woe
Just a tired reminiscing of tomorrow
A future dreaming of sorts
Where one may freeze a dream
And melt it when you're old
Soaking your weary feet and relaxing
In the thawed memories of youth
In a world where one may
Freeze a dream
Perhaps they could bottle up my hopes
I'd store mine all in mason jars
And old liquor bottles
Then when I feel dark and down
I'd crack one open and drink up

All the roads, footpaths, and roughened trails of my beginnings
Lead me to the map of your heart, that long buried treasure.
I will trace words and phrases along the contours of your lips,
And glide cautiously across the footbridge of your wanting.
You will be stilled by the weight of my breath upon your brow,
And you will know love at a pace that awakens you to your own preciousness.

Spirits, sages, mystics and wizards
shamans and charmers
voodoo, hoodoo...wanga and juju
and..
old old women- those teller of tales
weavers of dreams....casters of spells

Warnings of darkness and deepness
conjuring clues or readings
from spangled stars on black nights
Guidance on this spiritual journey... this mystical quest
Sunrise into sunset... dark into night

Answers to questions you never asked
Questions to answers
long buried in self shrouded past

There are those who would lead you
to dark alleys astray
Those who would steal your hearts diamonds,
your trust.. and betray

You hear whispers and rumors
strange tongues, and hushed voices... muffled sighs
You search for everything and nothing in the shadowy mist
What are true truths... what are lies?

Keep your eyes open..receive the whole
and know..
That real truth is sometimes
in the unexpected, the untold, the unwritten, the uncharted....

Like..
in the moment of exhale from one true kiss!

Someone should drop a rock on me like a paperweight
At the bottom of a well
So I can decide if these words are worth keeping
What
Don't you feel like you might be blown off the desk sometimes, too
There are a lot of settings for the ceiling fans and even if they whistle some of them might not be as avid for your autograph as you'd think
Sometimes there isn't a difference between fan mail and hate mail
It's just people who are too tired to empty their souls into a pitcher and the paper makes a wall around their drooping sandbag hearts
And I forgive them
Because the well was dry long before anybody could refill it

I could very well end up in a wastebasket for my trouble
But I want to be worth remembering by my deeds not my name

Everything you do-
Turn it into poem food
See the world anew

Spiky cables hanging from the wall
Disappear beneath the floor
Let me try to figure out
What they all are for

Eventually we connect the lot
Turn on the power and hear-
A pop

Of course the colours have all changed
From red and black
To brown and blue
Then the blue turned back (to black)
In an effort to confuse

After lunch I see my mistake
Just take this off and use this one
Flick the switch, and oh be joyful
All the lights come on

If you walk into your fields,
to reap what you had sown..
And find that only rocks and stones lay
where you had wished a harvest...

Begin to gather rock by rock and stone by stone
to build instead a mountain.
Then climb up to the summit,
and wait till dark to see the spangled sky... so glorious!
you cannot help but pray,
And...

You might want to make a wish again...
that's what stars are for!

in the ***** of the silver waves
grew a single water lily
speckless and spotless
the colour of pure milk
a private bud, it lay unopened
till the night it blossomed
complete, open, a whorl of whiteness!
exquisite in its secluded state
it pondered sadly on its fate
alone –
awash with an awful ache
it looked upwards towards the great black lake
so much similar to its own address
with just one exception that made the biggest difference
like a mirror leading on to a parallel universe
another swirl of bright white flowered
not alone but surrounded
by many young buds!
how wonderful thought the lily
how cheerful that bloom must be
to live thus accompanied by family
so pining it withered
feeling unloved, unwanted
never knowing that from above
the moon watched wailing
“how full of life was that lovely flower
alas! alas! how I loved her!
never could I have the courage to tell her
she - a brightness lit from within
and i a mere rock
with no light of my own”

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   25.01.2013
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

what is this unholy distress
that even words
seem unable to soothe?
instead it inflames them;
poisons them -
turns my ideas into a malicious brood
that commands
every ounce of my attention today
i would
if i could
pluck out this bitter vine
that encircles me sinuously
growing within me
as if born from a mystery seed.
unhindered it occupies every crevice in my brain
finding its way
into every sense, every act
every thought.

but then I think
a complete life
cannot be all sweet.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   30.01.2013
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish