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r
                      R      E  
A         d   D               A     e
                        M
                        M
ensconced
m­agically transforming everything i am
shrinking pungent times that shock
a jolt that makes apparent the
          I      
L       lies       E
         S
the tragic muse she swells and fills
                                                        k  ­            p
every sense that confuses and  s            i               s
drawing blood with every breath
a hurt that transcends the depth
of sanity
the boundaries that fate decree
a dwelling that disallows the free
                 R
a      T     rap      A
                  P
until all i do is go round about
a confusion that deepens
the maze that thickens
a black-red ooze that congeals
and seals
the burial grounds of dreams
that steal
the memories of a deeper psyche
that swirl and swarm in our midst
the ghosts of a beaten past.

Vijayalakshmi Harish
23.08.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
A poem inspired by the movie Inception
Love sometimes is a
***** word that blackens the tongue
and yet it sweetens too.

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
comfort clothes like a cloak
huddling behind its warmth
i lose myself in its gaze
it binds though and lets me fail
it is too comfortable a place
to let me experiment
and take a chance on
everything i know
it allows me to remain ensconced and
unaware
to careful and without risk
no danger to my ego
its too mild a fire
it puts me to sleep
its like hot chocolate
the indulgence
is too heavy a price
to pay for
freedom
for knowledge
and for life.
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  21.08.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
event that speaks to hearts smile
climbing over miles of sky
falling to graceful rhythms of care
singing spires of temples high

eventful days that turn and burn
passionate fire the desire of life
stinging pains that don't go
life's sweet nectar that soothes it all

events that endorse tears of joy
fears of loss that evaporate
crying hearts that unite
forever more the light shall shine

the event that inspires
drives the high
creation is a magic potion
brewed in the cauldron of eventless time

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  20.08.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Something happy within me sings
lightly like the butterfly’s wings
as it gently, s  l   o   w   l   y   sways
above
and
alone
on the beach
always out of  reach
of sadness and decay
so full of life
each grain of sand
t-h-r-o-b-bi-n-g  
even in the most
iron heart
the pulse that excites and propels
                                         rise
the masses                        and
                               ­                                                  fall                  like              
  a                   v
                                                    e
w        ­                                                              s

­like a cloud on a sunny day
joyous and
lonely
all at once
what is this i hear
the thunder or spray
the salty wafts
that envelopes
beautyandsadness
that join to create
something so wondrous
sometimes i am like the brine
blue and gray
collecting my thoughts like i
collect shells
sometimes i am like the butterfly
blissful and content
But always i am.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
18.08.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
When your Name
was appended to mine,
My parents said-
“It’s for your security.”
Blinded by my Veil;
I couldn’t see-
It was a false promise.

In your embrace, I wanted to thrive,
to flourish, to live.
But I was pushed aside-
A bud that died,
Not blossoming
Into a flower.

When I asked for Freedom,
you gave me Abandonment.
When I asked for a Voice
to express myself-
you gave me Screams of Anguish.
When I asked to be Loved;
you gave me Pain.

I lie here now,
A discarded rag
Without an identity.
Keeping me company
are the scars on my arms-
Scars- a gift of
your undying love for me?

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
This is the poem for which I won the first prize at Ananya- an intercollegiate fest hosted by Sophia’s college, Mumbai on December 16th, 2005.
All participants were shown some photographs(with captions). Participants were told to choose one of them and write a poem about it on the spot.
The picture that I chose depicted a woman in a burqa, lying on the ground with her hand spread out as if she was trying to reach out to someone. The setting was of some dilapidated area, with tall and long brick walls on both sides. The picture had the caption- “ Isolated and Anonymous, to whom can she turn?”.
On the basis of the picture and the caption given I wrote the above poem
The coffee grows cold on my desk
                                                            ­ (maybe if I leave it there
                                                           ­      long enough, it will
                                                            ­               evaporate).

Brush strokes fill
my mind,
thoughts fill
the canvas
the Vision translates
itself.

                                             ­                                                                 ­                                    You bite your lips
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                            to tease me…
                                                             ­                                                                 ­                    Can red do justice
                                                         ­                                                                 ­                            to the cruelty of
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                          your words?

You stare emotionlessly
into space…
Can blue capture
the coldness in
your eyes?

                                                          ­                   You twist your curls
                                                           ­                        michieviously…
                                                  ­                               Will black signify
                                                         ­                        The darkness of
                                                              ­                       your soul?

                                                          ­                   It is my magnum opus.

- Vijayalakshmi.R.
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Inspired by the novel *The Picture of Dorian Gray*
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