Life is an accelerator
But I hate her
She trips on words
And works my nerves

Life pushes me away from you
Begged her not to
Indeed I lost
To sting the wasp

Life yelped in rhetorical ways
Pocket of space
When questions soar
In masking roars

Life cried herself to sleep last night
Polluting sight
As stars dim out
With clouds of doubt.

Winter is coming but I fear I am not ready.
I may have spent too much time chasing sunsets that I've failed to notice the leaves changing.
Reds, oranges, yellows, and browns--
They came upon me before I had a chance to grab a jacket.
Now I'm left outside shivering.
Waiting.

Longing for a warmer day.
But the only day is today,
And I am at a loss.

The leaves are finishing their descent, eagerly awaiting to see their friends once more.
And as I watch, I am envious, so envious.
These leaves-- they are quick to change.
Quick to adapt without a single worry of what's next.
They know that reunion is coming soon.
Soon they will feel the rough edges of those they grew up with.
Soon they will echo together.

Winter is coming.
Winter is coming.

They whisper quietly as they crunch underneath my boot.

*Winter is coming.
Come quickly, dear friend,
For winter is coming.

My dear Icarus,
Have you brought tales of gold for me?
You-- the master of self,
The one who held his own thread and shears.
Don't share of how hard you beat your wings
But how the air beat against your brow.
Don't echo your father's faded cries
But sing the songs of the Aegean sea--
Sing them only for me!

My sweet Icarus,
Is the world as grand as the travelers say?
Are crumbling maps and hand-spun tales nothing to compare?
I've read of Sicily, where your father rests his mourning head.
I've traced its rivers as they curved against my torn papyrus.
Sicily, the land of Aetna.
Oh, to watch the land shake at the beckoning of her call
(Oh, to fly free of these labyrinth walls)!

My darling Icarus,
Tell me-- is life better above the blanket of Grecian blue?
Is it better than what the Fates designed?
Is it better than what I hold today
(please, let it be more than today)?

My beloved Icarus,
Will you give me your wings--
The mingling of feather, wax, and dreams.
Will you give me your wings and
Your will to yearn higher and higher

So that I too can reach the city of gold.

my dreams are
the texture of the earth
softened by the monsoon
a clairvoyant fragrance rises
from the green sprouts
pushing their way through-out
and through-in
my rain-coloured mental canvas
a cool drop snakes down
my ready spine
i’m dissolved
in the frissons that ensue
even as your warmth
embraces me
every numbing night
the winds detach the flowers
from every mourning tree
and i give you myself
as you rain on me
incessantly

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   13.06.2013
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

Crouching at your door
squalls taunt, the devil don't pray
do not be afraid

Listen to his voice
He knows the qualms of darkness
feet above water

knees lowly
silence the raging tempest
You are our daily bread

ordinary
     this day.
It began at
      Daybreak
Going on as
        They all do
With rising temperatures
            And clouds
And birds
        Trees a highway
Cut straight
            Through,
But in the middle
       Of this day
Came, once
            Upon a time
Like the plush
     Soft of a woman's
Breast and thigh
        An entrance of
A sort, a gateway
     Velour, wet,
Plush, only a man
Could know
       How velvet it became
As the river ran,
     Skies opened up

Heavens angels
             Sang.
And the rain
   It came

Serene words
are like good seeds
planted in the mind.
Watered by the smile
that will bloom for miles.