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the loss of a child is truly great
it leaves strong men weakened
no wonder then that for Arjuna
it felt like the earth had shaken
and shifted from its axis
leaving his world broken
he forgets that he is the Great Warrior
in this moment he is a father

should he be heartbroken
as his son is dead?
or rejoice
as he died a hero’s death?
or anger
at its unfairness?

in a momentary madness he rages,
“who dared to hurt my darling boy?
who dared my Gandiva defy?
and how was it that he fell alone
weren’t any of you close by?”

under his fierce gaze Yudhisthira trembles
“I’m sorry my brother, I feel your pain,
Abhimanyu was our son too,
foolishly we sent him to his death
that guilt will plague us to our dying day,
but know this-
we tried to protect him
like an egg protects a yolk
we had him surrounded

but fate had other games to play
Jayadratha, King of Sindhu
was our opponent that day,
he played his trump card-
the boon he received from Mahadeva which states
that he shall be able to defy our combined might
on a day that yourself and Keshava are away

against destiny who has a say
he held us prisoner in a duel
and let Abhimanyu escape
deeper and deeper into the cruel clutches
of the Chakravyuha he strayed
the price for our foolishness, with his blood he paid”

Arjuna’s anger now had a target
Jayadratha would his mistake regret
The wielder of the Gandiva makes
A terrifying promise –
“If by sunset tomorrow
Jayadratha’s head does not lay
bleeding in the earth’s embrace
then I shall immolate
myself in the fiery blaze
my name shall be stained with eternal shame”

“why such harsh words, Partha?”, asks Krishna,
“why take such a hasty oath,
what if you fail? Abhimanyu is gone
but there are others
whose dependence upon you is just as it was”

“But Keshava”, Arjuna retorts,
“it was you who had a complaint,
that my arrows had no fire,
that my fighting was spiritless
that I was shirking the Dharma of a warrior,
so now that the flames of passion
are fuelled by my loss
why do you tell me dampen
my vengeance, and besides
with you as my charioteer,
friend and guide,
I am assured
That success will be mine”

“So be it Partha,
It may be that destiny has decreed
that you are Jayadratha’s nemesis,
but be aware, that it will not be easy
our enemies will seize upon this opportunity
to shame you and rid themselves of you
Jayadratha will be well guarded
and if we get past the Kaurava army
to Jayadratha, you must employ
the Pasupatastra-that mighty weapon
gifted to you by Mahadeva himself”

this decision made, they await
the fourteenth day
in the Pandava camp there is anticipation
in the Kaurava camp fear, and anxious preparation
Jayadratha in mortal terror,
would rather the battlefield avoid,
and turn his back and be called a coward
than face Arjuna’s undefeatable missiles
but under Drona’s advice and assurance
he fearfully stays

The fourteenth day dawns
even the Sun God seems excited
he wishes he could stay and watch
the outcome of the fight this day
but the sun cannot stop
it must do its duty
just like the warriors  on the battlefield today

soldiers wither as Arjuna’s wrath
falls as bolts of lighning
assisted by the brave Satyaki
five akshauhinis are decimated
but within a triple vyuha
Jayadratha is still safe
waves and waves of warriors come
and to Yamaloka dispatched
but Jayadratha is not yet encountered
and the sun is low upon the horizon

Fatigue overtakes the battlefield
and the end seems near
in a few minutes the sun will have set-
for the Kaurava’s a welcome relief,
for the Pandava’s their greatest fear!
now Arjuna seems to panic
now he gives in to despair
wishing he could hold back the sun
just till he can exact his revenge!

Krishna realizes his Partha’s  plight
for the sake of justice he must act
with clever insight
this embodiment of the divine
eclipses the sun
behind Narayana’s discus
it is hidden

the world believes
that the sun has set
the mighty Arjuna has fallen!
The Kuarava’s scream in delight,
The Pandava’s crestfallen
Arjuna hangs his head in desperation
he has been unable to fulfill his oath
unable to avenge Abhimanyu’s death

from hiding Jayadratha emerges
cowardly rat now seemingly a lion
“Arjuna, fulfill your promise”, he jeers
“let us see you get on the pyre,
foolish warrior that you are
you dared to clash with
the Kaurava might
now see where your stupidity
has led you, like son like father!”

the entire Kaurava host laughs
overjoyed at seeing Arjuna lost
the greatest of their enemies
will now commit suicide
forever this humiliation
will haunt his brothers
and they shall lose faith
drop down their weapons in
futility and depression
and the war shall be won!

as they rejoice in their ignorance
Krishna intervenes,
suddenly the sun comes out again
bright and shining, as if to say,
“Arjuna is not defeaten!”

Now the tables are turned-
The Kaurava army falls in disarray
in the Pandava camp loud hurrays!
Conches are blown and the fighting resumes
For the second time that day
Jayadratha out in the open feels
The presence of Yama
And Arjuna, his spirits reawakened
looks like a fiery tower
his eyes blazing coals

Krishna speaks: “Quick Arjuna! Do not hesitate
a moment longer,
dispatch your Pasupata with haste,
but remember Jayadratha’s other boon-
the one given to him by his father
that the one who makes his head roll,
will have his own burst into a thousand pieces”

Arjuna obeying stretches his bowstring
The Pasupata is loaded,
a short prayer to Mahadeva said,
the arrow becomes the messenger of death
severing Jayadratha’s head off his shoulder
an expression of shock-the last look on his face
for a moment his body stands
and then falls with a thud to the ground

the Pasupata carries the head afar,
outside the battlefield and deposits
it in the lap of Jayadratha’s father
who seeing the  disembodied head his son
lets its fall on the ground in shock and awe
and instantly in fulfillment of the boon he gave
his head explodes into a thousand fragments

the Sun God bids adieu
now the day is done

the oath is fulfilled,
Arjuna still lives,
The Kauravas are filled with dread
for they know that Arjuna will not cease
his anger will not be appeased
with only the death of Jayadratha
he will now be a fiercer
and a stronger foe

On the Pandava side
Victory drums beat
Abhimanyu has been avenged!

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Gandiva : Arjuna's divine bow
Mahadeva: Lord Shiva
Keshava: Another name for Krishna
Partha : Another name for Arjuna
Pasupatastra: A weapon gifted to Arjuna by Lord Shiva
Akshauhini: Ancient battle unit consisting of 21,870 chariots (Sanskrit ratha); 21,870 elephants; 65,610 cavalry and 109,350 infantry.
vyuha:battle formation
Yamaloka: the realm of Yama, the God of Death/The Underworld
Narayana : Lord Vishnu

Jayadratha: Once while trying to abduct Draupadi, the wife of the Pandavas, Jayadratha was humiliated by the Pandavas. In order to avenge his humiliation, he underwent rigourous penance to please Lord Shiva from whom he received a boon that he could hold all the Pandavas at bay for one day when Arjuna and Lord Krishna were not around. He used that boon on the day Abhimanyu was to enter the Chakravyuha, thereby preventing the Pandava brothers from protecting Abhimanyu. He was thus the root cause of Abhimanyu's death.
Jayadratha also had another boon from his father, i.e; who ever caused the head of Jayadratha to fall on the ground, will be killed immediately by having his own head burst into 1000 pieces.
In the beginning there was Shakespeare
with his worldly verse that let me fly
betwixt the Merchant and the Shrew
a flame was set alight
and it grew and bore
testimony to an increasing love for the music of the mind
                                                            ­                               Tagore came later
with more a serious thought                              a distant father
to my immaturity
undulating spirit that within me lay

Always thought I’d grow up and be like Plath
                                 Or like Dorothy Parker
                                                          ­                                                       always in some dark corner
trying on all the mental dresses
my imagination supplied
powerful black and pungent hues
tears that no one cried
confessions which became
se­lf-effacing in my pride
                                                           ­     then I found e.e.cummings
that tricky wonderful guy
who weaved puzzles into his poems
                                                   such spell-binding joy!
I am become Ekalavya
from absent teachers i have learnt
to string my voice together

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Ekalavya : In Indian mythology, a young tribal boy who taught himself archery while accepting Dronacharya, a teacher of princes and kings as his teacher. Drona refused to teach Ekalavya since he was a tribal. When Ekalavya, who was self-taught began to excel at archery-even more than his favourite student Arjuna, Drona asked for Ekalavya's thumb as his "dakshina" fees for teaching him, since Ekalavya had accepted Drona as a teacher even though he had not been accepted as a student.
your words – so alive and powerful
they hold my gaze for so long
i forget to see where i'm going
i t
                                    and f
                   ­                     l
                                         down the   st
                                                              ­     a      ir
                                                       ­                               s
                                ­                                                   of consciousness
lost as i am in this reverie
that your words  create

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Dedicated to all the wonderful poets here on HP. I am glad to be a part of this community and read your works, even though they do make me trip and fall sometimes :) Special shout out to Ammu, Mae, Paul, Aby, Aditya, Bala, vircapio, Raj, Emily Prunster, David, Cyd, Pandora,Prabhu, Subconscious On Parade, victoria, Donie, Cat Otherwise, Sa Sa Ra, Matthew Hill, Inevitably Raised by Ducks.  You'll make my day, everyday!! Thank you!!!
Scraps of poetry are all it takes -
whoever says words are “sweet nothings”
is so sorely mistaken
and has never known that intellectual ******
that comes from reading emotions
in perfect juxtaposition

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
There is just something about a well-written poem/essay/letter or even email that just makes me so happy!
I was always so lonely
when I was with you
You spoke of the weather
and other mundane realities
yet I hung on to every word
held helplessly captive by your voice

And even now I’m solitary
long after you've evaporated
I have frequent and interesting
conversations with others
but it all seems empty
I’d rather hear you speak of the weather

- Vijayalakshmi Ramachandran
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
An old poem, I wrote many years back. Inspired by the work of Dorothy Parker - though mine came out as depressing rather than witty like hers!
Not much was said
a minimum of words spoken
but within the sparseness of the verbalizations
lay powerful emotions –
after all they were
poets both
whose hearts thrummed
to the same metre!

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
"One cannot be a good writer without first being a good two writers talking is actually two listeners that is bound to be a wonderful conversation!"
I don’t know what I breathed in
Don’t know what’s making me sneeze
No medicine seems to work
Dear Lord, what a fix I’m in!
I’ve tried washing my face
And blowing my nose
But nothing seems to help
If I let myself I’ll
Curl up in a corner and die
But instead I’ll try
And drown myself in poetry!

-Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Have always had a bit of dust allergy, and today I seem to have breathed in something in office that has been troubling me all day!
if some day, i did forget
my name
my place
and everything that I did
would I still remember
how to write?
is it like cycling- a skill once learnt
that is never forgotten
or is it a gift
once lost, never to be found?
would I recognize these words I’ve penned
with passion and pain mingled-
would I feel the joyful comfort I’ve felt
in their expression?

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
when Sita asked Rama
to get her the golden deer
what did she actually want?

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
love came in many disguises
sometimes a name, sometimes a grace,
taking the mute pages out on a walk
absorbing the sun's rays
in a hope that some golden drop
may filter into my poetry.
but the words only vibrate
when you're near to feel their dance
--they care not for any other applause.
they seek only to reflect this phase
of our meetings silently held
under the mango tree.
of my hand attempting to leave
its mark upon your palm
its gentle heat melting
my core and yours
creating some new alloy.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
this saline solution
that hides just behind the eyelids
an intravenous drip
when i’m off-colour

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
brittle waves crash like
china plates
who do they argue with?
the moon, who is their father
the sea-their mother
their soulmate, an unseen river,
or me?
i am but an detached observer of this
play of passionate fervour

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
loves -

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
“Is life not a thousand times too short for us to bore ourselves?”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

“There are no uninteresting things, only uninterested people.”
― G.K. Chesterton

“I’m bored’ is a useless thing to say. I mean, you live in a great, big, vast world that you’ve seen none percent of. Even the inside of your own mind is endless, it goes on forever, inwardly, do you understand? The fact that you’re alive is amazing, so you don’t get to say ‘I’m bored.”
― Louis C.K.
that many
are motivated more
through avoidance of pain
than through the attainment of
the achievements their heart desires earnestly

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
you –

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
This isn't as sad as it sounds.
I got a steam burn today while working in the kitchen and I've just been in a world of pain thanks to it! But I just noticed that the burn is heart-shaped and that made me smile :) HP doesn't allow posting pictures, so you'll just have to take my word for it :P
one who basks in the soft heat of grandiose moonliness
growing fatter on honeyed imaginations
their sicklysweetness soaking through the pores
of countless generations
their minds invade a collective consciousness
burning arcs of inspiration – torches of the collective vision
in drilling through mutual experience
great gaping black holes of creation
effigies of super-egos, lynched on altars of desire
neon flames and disco lights, emotions on a massive pyre
maiden voyagers on never-ending cruise
sinking in foreign oceans – their endurance dupes
minor gods of destiny and fate they await
dionysian ****** of wine and food for thought
and hearts that beat in unison
a schizoid muttering that enlarges and deafens
manic pleasure that spins and spins
in eternal circles of pleasure and pain, loss  and gain
opioid mists that dream a dream of everlasting name
an addiction an obsession that sumbits
to some masochistic drive
to empathize.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
”The courage of the poet is to keep ajar the door that leads into madness.” - Christopher Morley
here i await
the dawn’s first light
to shrug off the cool caress
of the moonbeams
silver tinged, fingernailish beauty
i am a lustrous
princess of the deep
yet i’m here
on this sandy beach
for you sunbeam
i’d gladly leave
my home, my hearth,
everything that speaks familiarity
to welcome your strangeness
soak myself in it, imbibe it,
as i have loved the brine
now i wish to fly with you
on your gold-tipped wings
redolent of your perfumed warmth

so then sunshine,
shall we elope?

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
A rewrite of one of my older poems which seems to have been accidentally deleted. I could not find the backup of the poem either, so I had to rewrite it. Hopefully its better than the original (written in on 25th September, 2012).
the assault of the words
paralyzes me
holds my mind captive

i need to express
pour out my heart
and get others to play

creating worlds and
destroying them
the words allow me
to play god
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
a princess roamed in realms of gold
alone and forsaken
lost in myths and illusions
when reality came
it was a shock
a sudden ****** into the world of the dark
sadness gave way to a greater pain
living alone was the easier task
but to live with a version of herself-
a sinister unhappy one
was too much to ask
slowly she found herself
morphing into a black witch
it was then that she decided
to make the switch
to open up her wings and fly
and never look back into the gloom
onwards she flew towards the sun
and the stars and the moon
and made them all her own
now she lives in palaces of light
and every day for her is a new flight

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
a woman of substance the magazine proclaims
and what are these "substances" may I ask?

Its her grit and determination
her will to succeed
to overcome and defend her rights
if need be
loving and nurturing are not her only duties
she can also break your heart or break your bones
messing with her is not a risk you need
she creates her own space
she finds her own niche

She may be a social butterfly, a business woman,
a sports star, a housewife or a maid indeed
but a woman of substance is one of a kind indeed
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
I asked my inner writer,
Is your prose poetic?
Or your poetry prosaic?
And my inner writer asked me,
Are you traditional with modern values?
Or are you modern with traditional values?
Are you an introvert who loves to express?
Or an extravert who loves silences?
Are you an optimist who sees the clouds?
Or a pessimist who sees rainbows?
Are you thoughtful with some light-hearted ways?
Or humourous with some sober ways?
And on and on and on and on
And on and on it went.
I'll never ask my inner writer
About writing
-Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
The original poem :
My greatest fear is
that my mind will become languid
all these nerves that buzz and fill
will someday become a vegetable

somnolent times will set upon me
a spell from which I cannot recover
lazily and languorously I shall dwell
an intellect without vigour

too much comfort too much praise too much ease
shall push me off the cliff of complacency
and I shall fall without cognizance
a mental suicide, awareness in deep freeze

a hardened blank consciousness
that needs to be broken through
excavated from a  grave of self-righteousness
pushed beyond self-set limits
melted until the core is seen

I need to feel the pain and hurt
cry briny tears and experience grief
need to feel unsure undecided
obscure myself in anxiety
make sure the inner ocean stays unfrozen

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
From a letter by Franz Kafka to his schoolmate Oskar Pollak, 27 January 1904 (translated by Richard and Clara Winston): 'I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we're reading doesn't wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us. That is my belief.'
robbing the banks of fate
my pistol shoots off
getting what i want
better now than late

robbing the banks of fate
twisting the destiny
having things go my way
but it really doesn't sate

robbing the banks of fate
it seemed like fun at first
but life that is too easy
is just not that great!

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
The conch poked and prodded bursts
Into multicolored fragments
Startling the gulls into
Bewildered flight

The beach cakes my insides
Hand and foot and head and heart
In the sun’s heat it turns to glass
Splinters tear my mask

Loneliness fits like a glove
It rubs like sandpaper
On my sense of self and us
Gradually we erode

Ideas like octopus arms
Multitudinous waves forth
But are concealed by
their own black inky mist

the waves rise and fall
unaware and unconcerned
but we too frail too unimportant
in the larger scheme of things

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Inspired by Sylvia Plath's poem "Two Lovers and a Beachcomber by the Real Sea". Though my work isn't even close to being as good as hers...
the silky silver song of time
slips away through my fingers
mirroring the stars above
my mind makes moth trails
in the wind – swaying
to the tune of love
you are the day and light
i, the darkness and the night
between us hangs our world
with wordy crayons we fill
the blank spaces
never bothering to stay within the lines
your eyes they bore within me
mining me for answers
but some questions are born
without a destiny to find
purposeless they loiter
and are laid to rest among the flowers
that bloom in our silences

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
in this nearly empty train
i sit by the window thinking of you
every minute that passes
takes me farther away
and yet
I’m joyous
for i can feel
the waves of your love
washing over me.
You, my love,
are the smile that refuses to leave my lips
others look, wondering why
only I know .
you are the strumming within my chest
that never ceases
yours is the memory
that never leaves.
i smile
even as a solitary teardrop
rolls down my cheek
and falls on the cool surface
a compound of pain with pleasure.
i’m conflicted
yet at peace
yet happy.
and isn’t this
what love is about,
what it has always been.
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
bubbles -

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Inspired by Kirti's Sonnet #1 (
why do you choose
to stay wrapped in this mystery
when the sunshine beckons you
to leave behind the conch
that shelters you and listen
to a song other than that of the sea
step out of your (with)drawing room
be a guest for once
explore these gifts i bring you
choose which ones you’ll keep
discard the ones you don’t need
but do take a look at what is offered
hide not behind the curtains
forgo the fabricated veil
unwrap yourself hand and foot
rejoice in your own vulnerability
fall, get hurt, nurse your wounds
trust and be betrayed
in the end you’ll  only find
these trials have made you stronger
to find your very own Excalibur
take a risk
take a chance
let me in
for i do wonder
what it is like
to be in your head

but more than that
i ponder
what it is like
to be in your heart

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Thank you all for the love and support you have been giving me!
I have been fortunate enough to be chosen as the featured guest poet on for this week. If you'd like to you could go see me there at :)
The camera captures
your smile, your laughter, your posture

but it can't catch what I catch
when i'm with you
the warmth in your smile
the joy in your laughter and the comfort
that you give me when you stand with me
- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
he trickled into my consciousness
like an unseasonal, stealthy raindrop
my mind still ripples
--the aftershock of his presence
testimonial to his absence

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
thankless stars
crowd around my palm
scratching my fate within the lines?
the light of the truth blinds them
they believe it to be theirs

my deeds create the lines
which whisper to the stars
the secrets to my destiny

-Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
festivities -

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Part of a poetry chain with Aditya Bhaskara and Kirti Pabrekar Patil. Thank you!
Revolutions of time
and dice of fate
forcing a choice
that lies beyond the apparent

layers and layers of prejudice
and half-truths
of pretence and superstition
peel off


                                                        It­s not just about the fork in the road anymore;
                                                        ­              or about the road not taken
                                                           ­                its about the only road-
                                                           ­             that remains to be chosen

Despised? No…Feared?…maybe
littered with the sacrifices of my
broken heart, my injured soul
wounded pride; and darkest fear

                                                           ­                                                                 ­              and yet I shall choose
                                                          ­                                                                 ­  choose to live with my choice
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                            to rejoice in it,
                                                             ­                                                        and try to turn it into a celebration
                                                     ­                                             for maybe- my choice is as tormented as I am.

and so that fate may stand stunned
and beaten at its own game
and time may witness our Triumph

-Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
the divergence of roads
is an illusion
a myth perpetuated
by those who fear solitude
but one who has walked the lonely path
enjoyed all its sights, sounds and sceneries
rested in the shade of its motherly oaks
knows that at last
everything converges
every road, every fellow traveller
every other choice
meets at one
single brilliant point

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish,
I love how "cleaved" can mean both "split" and "linked". The word is its own opposite!
I know its late, but it’s a Sunday
a lazy sunny morning
                               after the stormy night yesterday
and all I want is to lie
right here beside you amongst the pillows
                                                        ­      and nuzzle upto you
bury my face in your chest
and feel your warmth inching its way from
                                                                ­         my heart to my toes
the aches and pains of the week
slowly melting away in your bear hug
                                                             ­         and my world lighting up
with your smile
“aren’t you getting up?”, you ask
my eyes are stuck together with sleep
I’m not ready to let the world in yet
                                                             ­            want to shut it out today
but you are persistent
i see you’ve been up before me
i smell the coffee in your breath

                                                         ­      i find coffee-flavoured lips
                                                            ­       are quite addictive

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
our evenings blue
await the sky’s rosy blushed face
some calming chaos
bringing forth the shy ardor
eyes dance anticipating
my sweetheart’s presence

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

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
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
for knowledge
and for life.
- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
the concept of loss
is a heavy one
it weighs on the mind
and troubles the spirit

the concept of love
is a happy one
it creates new worlds
in which we co-habit

the concept of love with loss
is a crazy one
it takes my sanity
even if it lasts only for a minute
- Vijayalakshmi Harsh
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
I                          am                  a                 ­            creative                 vampire
Am                     a                     bizzare                   creature                     i,
A                         bizzare          poetry                    craving               ­     vampire
Creative             creature         craving                   your                        poetry
Vampire              I,       ­               vampire                poetry                   write

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
My humble attempt at trying to write a square stanza. A square stanza is one that can be read both across and down. Have been wanting to write one ever since I read Lewis Carroll's square stanza. You could see that at this link :
The night dips its pen
in the silvery inks and starry hues
And writes a testimonial to my solitude

Slinking away within me
A song of hopeful annihilation
Matched in silent rhythm to yours

The darkness slips away
Unnoticed and quiet in its exit
It leaves me braided with the music

----Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
i dare to dream
i dare to defy
i dare to speak
i dare to cry

i dare to live
i dare to die
i dare to face
my inner lies

i dare to fear
i dare to care
Life - after all
is a game of truth or dare

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
one persistent thought haunts my awareness
who will it be? you or me?
the first to finish this marathon!
i wish it would be me, then instantly i regret
i know without me you won’t be able to carry on
but if you were to go i know
i would be equally undone!
i know i’ll live to tell our tale
but fear that i may not want to tell it
it won’t be a matter of living, it’s a concern about my spirit
never again to feel your presence, your comforting glance
never to argue, never to fight, never to reconcile
- i dread i won’t be able to bear it
                                                so all i can hope and believe for now
                                                   is that if ever i could strike a deal with destiny, it would be this -
                                                that when the end comes, let our radiance dim together
                                                        ­   not a second earlier, not a second later

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
death is laced with colours no eye can see
i saw it yesterday
resting on a twig
on a cold manhole cover
against which it looked so alive
-- it seemed to be comforted
brown wings pulled close, tips almost touching,
against the tiny white shell of its chest,
speckled with black
a tiny beak welcoming the chance to grab
at an interminable silence
--neither ugly nor morbid
but gently pretty,
the presence of death
affirming life.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
the River said
to the Sea
“Plains and Mountains
have melted beneath me,
far and long has been
my journey
i no longer know who i am
i think  i;m supposed
to be You “

and the Sea
welcomed the river into its openness.

-Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
this swirling roaring wind that blows homeward from the sea
                                         saltiness with eucalyptus blending in twisting my fear
                                                the knots in my chest and stomach entangling
                                                      ­deadly mocktail of emotions surging
                                                         ­ with every  howling whoosh  
                                                        ­        a new green life falls breaking
                                                        ­                      life prematurely ending
                                                          ­                       storm violently shaking
                                                         ­                           every limb of every tree
                                                            ­            an attempt to blow anxiety
                                                         ­               into each living breath
                                                          ­                       a drenched vision
                                                          ­                           of a couple of crows
                                                           ­                        seemingly meditating
                                                      ­                      in the midst of the tempest
                                                         ­            holding their own  
                                                           ­                     in the eye
                                                             ­                   of the storm
                                                           ­                       they find
                                                            ­                         Peace

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
my city Chennai experienced the effect of Cyclone Nilam which hit the south-east coast of India yesterday. No major damage done in the city though. 1 person has been reported dead and 5 missing at sea. My prayers go out to them , and to those affected by Sandy as well.
there is a wrestle going on inside of me
an epic match
                                                                ­      nAch vs nAff
At one end “Duty”-the undefeated ruling champion
                                                        ­             And at the other end
                                                                ­                              “Desire”-a strong contender for the title

Come and watch this fight to the death!
get out the fizz and popcorn
join the fun!
see me oscillate-between one and the other
i’m like an old grandfather clock
can’t decide
this lunacy is felt
in my deepest self, my core
stretched so far I’m torn apart
every limb every pore seethes in the anticipation
of the win
my mind bounces off the walls
I wonder what the point is at all-
someday this will end in a drunken brawl.
- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
“Love and work... work and love, that's all there is." - Sigmund Freud

Dharma : Duty
Kama : Desire.
nAch: In psychological terminology: Need for Achievement
nAff: In psychological terminology: Need for Affiliation
my mind meanders
as the night grows restless
reaching out with passionate fingers
that draw me out of my stupor
                                                  i’m twisted in their embrace
                                                  conflic­ted, astray in this maze
                                                  with unquenched desire they pry me open

an endless procession of memories -
set free from their anchors, they rise up
contorting themselves to the tunes of                       “Should I enter or not?” asks the labyrinth
“what if?” and  “ why not?”                                                           the maze gifts me dead-ends
demanding answers that cannot be given

                                                     an­ argument of the heart with itself
                                                     is not one that finds resolution
                                                    th­e decision is the destination

in the end they all await the Sun

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
swimming in the sea of your memories
i try to find my voice
echoing still in the conch shells
pieces of me tangled in the seaweed
remembering when you caught me in your net
setting  me free
the currents between us – the warm and the cold
all the rainbow hues that colour our story
ancient, real, mysterious
beneath somewhere dangers lurk
sharks that feed off our conflicts
rabid appetites tearing apart
but we grow back-indestructible till the end
we survive like a  coral reef – beautiful
we protect the shores of our life

- Vijayalakshmi Harish

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
                                 ­               after
                       ­                                                                 ­                                                

               ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                         lost!

-Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
A sleepy evening
I see myself in illusions
And dream of the light

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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