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Just what is it that I am discovering?
I feel like I'm blubbering
Idly hovering over something

Something so bright I am blinded
And if my hunch is right I'll sign it

While kissing in the sky

There's a place deep down
In the bottom of the sack
Where the weakened drown
And the warriors attack

Where the heart pounds
And glory turns to *****
Into gory sheets
Categorically pieced

Through out a dream state

In a feast of upheaval
Under the peaking sun
In a leash of retrieval
Over the space of one

All waking to wonder
In the slumber of none

My bitter bones tumbling
To the drums thump

My slithered poems humming
To the stumps

My withered homes crumbling
To the months

Turned years
With ominous eyes—
Her face spoke a word unknown,
  .  .  .  Then she walked away.
High trees drop green leaves,
Otters wade in morning sun—
  .  .  .  .  Minnows in the stream.
the eTablet is not happy
across its sleek glass;
and the paper book too is not happy

the eTablet has seen it
so has the paper book
the latest tip in the Health Section
in today’s paper – online and on paper:
“To sleep easy and well,
do not use computers or eGadgets
at least an hour before bed;
read a book instead”


The eTablet is not happy
about its banishment from bed
And the paper book, always too smart
for its own good,
is not happy too:
“So what are you guys saying?
I’m so boring I put people to sleep?”


And now eTablet glows
across its sleek glass
drawing circles
on a window
trying to capture
slipping drops
of rain:
to save them from
falling to an end
or keeping them
on an edge to fade?

either way,
they will go away -
life passing in play.
It won't take me long
to rouse from my sleep
and awaken.
But I'd be leaving behind my dreams,
I'd be leaving behind
a part of me.
It was the middle of spring
when our love took root,
I had tears rolling down my cheek,
he had a smile that said he knew.
His arm was around my shoulder,
and mine around his waist,
clutching tightly to a fold on his shirt,
this was how we walked down the lane.

It was the beginning of summer
and like the blazing sun,
our passion bloomed,
days together, hours with each other
even time grew lazy with us two.
His arm was around my shoulder
and mine was around his waist
clutching tightly to a fold on his shirt,
this was how we walked down the lane.

Towards the end of autumn
leaves began fall,
our foreheads often wrinkled,
in harsh tones we began to talk.
He had plans, and I had a dream,
he was stubborn as I had ever been.
Our silences drew longer,
our worlds a shade apart,
when we did meet halfway,
the resentment followed fast.
His arm was around my shoulder
and mine was around his waist
clutching tightly to a fold on his shirt,
this was how we walked down the lane.

It was on one winter morning
that he finally left,
he carried his dreams,
on proud shoulders,
leaving behind a cold bed.
His arm was around my shoulder
mine around his waist
clutching tightly to a fold is his shirt
I wept as I saw
our photograph;
a reminder of our days.
Trying something new.
 Jul 2013 Vijayalakshmi Harish
Me
Why is it called chaos game
when all we do seems to reframe
the thoughts we've had before?

If half of x constitutes y
and if, therefore, the sky is blue
then let me show you
something else:

a little girl that sits and dwells
on a green field
plays with a game of marbles.

After each cast
she looks and pins
a little leaf of grass
into the ground.

She plays her game
until the sun goes down
and, tired now, she rises
looks again -
begins to frown at what unfolds
before her eyes;

the leaves of grass
have formed a shape
that, in the gloomy light,
resembles much a pyramid
with lion head, a human body,
and a riding knight who clutches
a fleur-de-lis-

Reaching down the giant girl
picks from my hand the gift
that I for her have brought
into this world, for her to drift
however far she dares
to go.


And chances are that,
in this chaos,
in this chaotic game,
this lily is the only thing that we both see
and thus the only thing that is worth looking at;

          Thus, my equation ends,
          having used up all xes
          and all whys-
          exhausted from such high amount
          of unpredicted turning points-

And no one tries
to sit her down to talk.
And so the girl continues;
and she keeps on to walk
in purple fields,
with lilies in her hair,
forever drifting,
planting her faithful seeds.
*I swear, I'm not on drugs!
 Jul 2013 Vijayalakshmi Harish
Me
with my back still split open
and a head full of paper planes i sit

and dream of foreign lands and days that would
give rise to different things than i already know

pale fire lurks
in corners of my brain
to be extinguished
for it is not mine:
this light!

so i will leave this page
as my hand reaches up
to grab the coffee cup
and an unholy smile
crosses my face

to sneak back to its place
of origin

to crawl back
yes; to leave
cross references behind

and find its own soil.
*I am soooo booooreeeed and should be doing something completely different!!!
PS: I stole the pale fire from somebody else, too!
I washed my plate
thrice I rinsed
I couldn't stand
the thought
of leaving behind
any trace
of food.

I want a clean plate.
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