"dazzles" poems
In his barren room of eternal darkness, you will find her suspended alone in space.
The silhouette that continues to haunt her soul have returned to reveal its obscure face.
Its eyes dazzles with the pure optimism for the uncertainty of what secrets the future has in store,
But her dimly brown stained eyes are plagued by the sadistic knocks of death at her door.
The seemingly gullible and naive entity clings onto an orb that has an effervescent shine,
This radiant glow, beckons for my soul to remember, to remember that it was once mine.
What is the reason for my once pure light to turn into the blacken, tainted soul that lies within me?
Is it waiting for the completion of my quest to find my hidden euphoria to be finally be set free?
Its voice sings to my inner demons, tugging at my existence like a synchronized team.
But the painful reality of life has taught me that happiness is nothing but a just forgotten dream.
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 2:59 AM UTC
Your love is like an ocean
It never ends
From the surface, it dazzles
It is wide, but calm
It reflects light and warmth
A frightening and exciting adventure
Which is ever-changing
Ever-constant
It is deep, filled with so many mysteries
Yet left for me to discover
It is eternal, from the day the world began
to the day it ends
Just like the ebb and flow
Of the waves
So let your waters inspire me, envelop me
Let me swim deeper into the depths
And learn to find your secret places
And on the day I have to leave this world
Let me drown, content and at peace
In the wonders of your incredible love
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
a miracle child
born to a mortal mother
***the creator pretends
to be the created***
stealing butter,
breaking pots,
teasing girls,
Gokulam’s naughtiest child
and then one day
the friends complain
“Mother Yashoda, your little one
is eating mud from the Yamuna banks”
worried she rushes
to her darling boy
her anxiety disguised as anger
he smiles - the sly little blue-eyed boy
in his musical voice he cries-
“I did not eat mud, sweet mother, the boys lie!
***come look within
and see with your own eyes!”***
poor Mother Yashoda
not knowing she stared
into that little mouth
and lost herself in what was there
he lifted swiftly the
veil of maaya
the truth shone forth
with a blinding light!
*** त्वमेव माता च पिता त्वमेव ।
त्वमेव बन्धुश्च सखा त्वमेव ।
त्वमेव विद्या द्रविणम् त्वमेव ।
त्वमेव सर्वम् मम देव देव ॥***
she saw herself
and her dear little boy
the whole of Gokulam
within his jaws lay!
and the whole earth
and the universe
galaxies and multiple worlds
was her little boy cursed?
her fear mounted as she saw
the entire cosmos
the boundaries blurred
time - a non-entity
the past, present and future
only a tiny river
she saw the vast expanse
of his creation
he made these worlds
held them like puppets on a string
and then morphing
he became death!
and unable to take more
she swooned
when the Creator, the Preserver and the Destroyer
merged to become-her adored little one!
*** You are my mother, and my father
You are my relative and my friend
You are knowledge, You are prosperity
You are my everything, My God of Gods***
and then he looked at her
with an infinite compassion
he’d shown her
what she needed to see
now it was time
for her to forget, to become
his doting mother again
he kisses her with innocent love and toothy grin
once more
maaya takes hold
the illusion more beautiful
more irresistible to behold!
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
04.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 2:45 AM UTC
there is a darkness
that the silver song
of soft illusion lights
in symbolic equivalents
of images real
it is a light
brutally interrogative
magnifying with dazzling rays
the breakage
at the jagged edges of the world
and lays hostage to impersonation
that resembles fragments
of smashed oval shaped mirrors
reflecting pieces of broken
brown terracotta soldiers
and causes the eyes to hurt
with a watched inner holocaust
of disturbing coloured detonations,
implosively autonomous
given to a deceived departure
a departure from reality
given by the advocacy
of ideological rationalism
that sees three kings
with blood on their crowns
in amplified convulsions
call mustre for
disturbance, disorder, destruction
and death
as blood stains the Balkan streets
and all emotional impulse
is volatilized
and a sinister, stuporous, stagnancy
stalks the land
where sustaining minds
are subject to a brutal insensitivity
that dazzles on the edge of a spiral vertigo
it is a light
brutally interrogative
magnifying with dazzling rays
a vocabulary of incoherence
like the rancid stains of *****
that inhabit the jagged edges of the world
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
*Let the stars fly away
and leave the moon shining,
With You and I dancing
under the light until morning,
Hear the music playing
to the tune of heartbeats
Spiral waltz into the atmosphere
in the circle of our heat.
Swing under the moonlight
and be lost in love’s delight,
Souls in unison, while shaking,
and twisting in the night,
Fantasy performed in the body
moving from side to side,
Magical pleasure the souvenirs
reminisce with pride.
Imagine the night where the moon
glows in a fountain
The tiniest lives from natures hive
paddle in the ripples,
Lift the mind into the songs
with a picturesque scene that dazzles
And you smile in that moment
to cast a wishful token,
With one look into faith
at dreams destiny create, unspoken
The amazing aura in which
our desire can participate,
Leaving moves in photos
to embrace the ambiance found.
Being romantic; the party stood
silhouette around,
Shadows swing from the walls
unto the dance floor,
You hear the sound but your body
cries out for more.
Into the moonlight
eyes blinded by heavenly bliss,
And the glittering stars appear
in the halo of a kiss.*
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC
The strange and unusual feeling you get,
When you see her, you won't get upset.
She makes your heart jet set,
The smile you would never forget.
The eyes that dazzles like the night sky,
The one that makes you feel shy,
Hoping your conversation goes on all night.
Never ending with a goodbye.
The voice that keeps you sane,
Puts your heart beat on the fast lane,
Ends all the suffering and pain.
The one that makes everyday not so plain.
The one that you'd give the world for,
Just because she's someone you really adore.
Never puts you in a bore,
Helps to ensure happiness in you restores.
However
Even though how much you love that girl,
You'll only be bothersome in her world,
You would only do more harm than good,
Her feelings you would've never understood,
It felt like it was fate,
You met your soulmate.
But she didn't
That was a fact that's imprint.
What's stopping you from all this.
Is how you make her ******
You know she deserves better,
Someone to make her happier.
You know you can't fulfil that,
You're the reason's she's mad at.
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
So many people into soft drinks think soda is soda
It’s a general subtle to that order
However, there is a feud going on between Sprite and Coke
It may sound like a joke
You might even choke
But to Sprite they have appeal
Then there’s Coke who feel they are for real
Pull out your straws and open a bottle of Coke and Sprite
Let the soda challenge begin
The texture of Sprite in the see thru glass with its lemon and lime
The Coke having its own ingredients with assorted flavor combined
However with every pour
It is the every soda fizz that is galore
Sprite says, “They have the taste that dazzles the mind”
Well Coke responds with, “We have been around since time”
The Coke’s story centered around some Poplar Bears
Well Sprite in that instance can’t compare
Sprite is determined to have the customer obey their thirst
That’s all that matters when doing it first
Well this challenge is really hard to say
But to this poet that is ok
Sprite and Coke both have good taste
Surely I am not going to spend time and make waste
So what if Sprite is clear and Coke is dark
Both have been around and made their mark
This soda challenge is done
It was a matter in thinking soft drink fun.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
Like a fog that blinds,
her smile dazzles you.
Like a chain that binds
her eyes imprison you.
She's a work of art.
She's such a hard worker.
She could break my heart
and she's mine all mine.
The longest dark hair
and her curvy features.
Plus two small hands
that make cute gestures.
She's a work of art.
She's such a hard worker.
She could break my heart
and she's mine all mine.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
The walk along the streets of fame
Streetlights illuminating the night
Dazzles are but fleeting moments
Adulation of the crowds will wane
Looking through the dark glasses
To fend off the bright camera flashes
Offered the spotlight by bright lights
They will switch off during the day
Temporary embellishments will disappear
With ease walk the streets
Where fame is just not a stereotype
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
**Of all known phenomena
Birth is the most wondrous
And the most miraculous
In the assortment of life’s stunners
So you always are a miracle
One readily celebrated each year
As the sparkle of your smile
Dazzles the world
Like sunshine after a dark tunnel
And the fire in your eyes is a smelter
To melt iced hearts and smelt rock faces
So dance maestro dance
And never once forget the choreography
Of the poetry in your fervent heart
Where hopes and dreams are a lovely duet
Happy birthday mover of the spirit
You who creates joy in moments of magic
When configurations of rainbow futures coax your heart
To beat intricate rhythms from life’s score sheet
Happy birthday to you, child from eternal vistas
Let your dreams carry you forward to fruition
Till life is oozing and dripping with honeyed dew
And each early morning walk is capped with shower bliss
And that promise of tomorrow and the day after the feat
Of never giving up on the business of living, no matter what
Happy birthday to you; you of stardust and moon glow**
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC
the dead re-materialise by the side of the roadside
they are visible as though seen through a spotlight
it is a brutally interrogative light
that magnifies these corpses
makes them resemble the fragments
of suicidal terracotta pots
it magnifies them as symbolic equivalents
of their real image
its beam dazzles broken glass on the pavement
the breakage an impersonation of their cataclysm
causing the edges of seeing to hurt
and hearing to submerge itself
in a turquoise blue aquarium in fear
as speech sounds a primitive retreat
in its atavistic echoes of inveterate distraction
there is a disorder of blood stains on the road
where all emotional impulse is volatilised
causing a wild distillation of programmed anxiety
which in a different vocabulary becomes
a figment of somebody else's imagination
causing a sinister, stuporous, stagnancy of sound
in palpitations, dropped heartbeats, nausea, headaches
and a foul change in bowel function
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
A thin, jagged line
Of blinding light,
Cuts through the sky.
Pure electricity—
Quick as lightning—
It’s there, and then it’s gone.
It dazzles the dark sky
Like a deadly firework.
It lights up the gloomy world—
Just in time to disappear—
And plunge back into darkness.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
It's an addiction
It can't be understood
In its exterior it is simplistic
In its interior it is complex
It is something that can't be understood
By those outside it
Because they don't know the highs
Or where it does take you
All those outside it can only see
Just how it will break you
But they can't see
They can't see how good it feels
The stages are easy to know
When you can follow me
Stage 1: The first date
Always the best part
The nerves
The preparation
The mystery
The first time that I touch her hand
A rush
I feel high again
Stage 2: The first kiss
Always a favorite
Because I mastered it
I take her to the perfect place
She loves it
An overlook
A stream
Nature surrounding
The kiss happens
It's perfect to her
She loves it
As do I
I feel that rush again
Stage 3: The convincing
The dating
The kissing
The sensations
All are easy to see why it's sensational
The feeling of her skin against mine
The listening to her perfect breath move her chest
In and out
In and out
I tell her I love her
She isn't sure at first
But I try harder
As we continue
And I succeed
I feel the euphoria coming in
Step 4: The love
That comfort
That security
That feeling of serenity
It cloaks me
Wraps me around
Its sky blue blanket
And lays me in
A green field
She's there too
Next to me
Feeling the same earth
Beneath us
I turn to her
Eyes whatever color
It nonetheless dazzles me
It fills me with something dangerous
Hope
That rush is gliding me through
Stage 5: The loss
Parents get in the way
She loses that feeling
I'm a *******
But either way
That feeling
That was once with her
Is gone
She walks the thin line
Performing a balancing act
Trying to find reason to be together but can't
She calls me up on the phone
Tells me how everything is wrong
I don't see it
I can't see it
Our love was perfect!
We both made it!
And now you're killing it!
We meet up
I beg but she's stands her ground
She walks up
Leaves
I'm alone
Left to sob
Yell
Get angry
That adrenaline rush from the high rises
Stage 6: The hate
The pacing
The change of thoughts
I still love her one day
I despise her the next
I feel anxiety kick in
Try my best to hold it
But can't
I call her up
Yell at her
Scream at her
Tell her that
She threw something great away
She hangs up
Blocks me
Never speaks to me again
I still keep pacing
Feeling more often guilty
Than angry
ineverwantedtohurtyoualliwantedtodowassaveyoufromanyoneelseiknowthatisaidiwantedyoutosufferbutthatsnnottrueatalliddoanything
Sometimes I still feel that hope
But it's fading
Fades fast
It's all over
My high is going down
I need to go back
And cook some more
She moves on quickly
I got her addicted too
She feels that addiction too
It draws us both in
And we can't imagine
What it would be like to leave
It is the cycle
That helps make us
And the cycle
That can break us
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 3:33 AM UTC
Where bathes you the morning dew
lights you the sun
colors you the dawn's hue
a moment newly begun.
Where shelters you the blue sky
soaks you the rain
lets out your heart's cry
words shape your pain.
Where dazzles you the sunshine
glooms end of day
hope is the silver line
living the only way.
Where gnaws you the sorrow's worm
runs you the smile
speaks to you the soul's calm
happiness is only a mile.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
It’s like a garden full of jasmine when the sun is going down
It’s like a rainbow, or a gentle rain, or an ocean’s rolling sound
It can’t be bought with precious jewels, or silver, or with gold
It can’t be stored, or bottled up, no strong man’s grip could hold
It can’t be forced, it must simply flow, it loses all value if faked
It shines, and dazzles, and wildly glows, especially for a loved one’s sake
It’s like a sunrise from a mountain top, or a relaxing tropic isle
It’s special, lovely, and unique, my darling, it’s your smile
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
I serve you not, if you I follow,
Shadow-like, o'er hill and hollow,
And bend my fancy to your leading,
All too nimble for my treading.
When the pilgrimage is done,
And we've the landscape overrun,
I am bitter, vacant, thwarted,
And your heart is unsupported.
Vainly valiant, you have missed
The manhood that should yours resist,
Its complement; but if I could
In severe or cordial mood
Lead you rightly to my altar,
Where the wisest muses falter,
And worship that world-warning spark
Which dazzles me in midnight dark,
Equalizing small and large,
While the soul it doth surcharge,
That the poor is wealthy grown,
And the hermit never alone,
The traveller and the road seem one
With the errand to be done;—
That were a man's and lover's part,
That were Freedom's whitest chart.
2k
There is a truly magical valley
Up to the north part of the Lakes District
As you pass through
Each side seems to have individual mountains
As the sun filters and dazzles
With swirling mists
That move around in ghostly fashion
Perhaps we could call it
The valley of a thousand Hills
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 5:31 AM UTC
The rain splutters at me in foreign tongue
As my mind hurdles under a mushroom
Shelter from the pelting lashes
Of nostalgic memory
Such vulnerable home from woes
Like a rodent hole in flooding summer
They tell me I am a finicky rat
That will not survive outside Sakubva
Ratatat-tatatatat-tart!
Oh but how true!
Each day I walk out in the morning
Come evening I pick every footprint I left
Back home
Prompted by need to use my footprints
Once more
Take care!
The radio blares
Save save save save
The television frowns
Wise up
Recycle is the trick in these hard times
Discarded beliefs, discarded memories, discarded tastes
Can be recycled
Recycled dreams, recycled husband, recycled wife...
I scrap my bottom in amazement
After all there is always a grain of virtue left
In what we discard -
O how I love the scent
God has made it that way
That each time you ****
Before you go
You save a nostalgic glance at your ****
Suppressing a sense of loss
For a part of you left behind
Like kites tied to strings we are
We regale in our false splendour
At time's mercy
The fruits of mental ************
Deflowered by new ****** worlds
Of lewd dreams in striking G-Strings
Gyrating ***** of fantastic insanity
That lure us
Into the heavy -bosomed clouds
Pregnant with cultural retribution
For the anarchy coursing our veins
Like the burning pain on my back
Each evening when I bend double
To pick up and bag my footprints
I left in the morning
This is not madness
When I tell you to let your beak
Of tolerance peck and peck
On your ****
What difference is there
Between **** in your belly and
**** steaming betwixt your legs?
What difference is home
When you are young and when old?
Riding on the back of butterfly dreams
When I am a newborn macho
In the bullring of entrepreneurship
Or O such cosmopolitan hunk
In the realm of fashion and modelling...
Sounds like sheltering under a mushroom
That springs and dazzles but a day
Hope I will hurtle back
Hope sweet home, home sweet home
I am a finical rat
That won't live away from home.
-dougwa-
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 11:21 AM UTC
Waking up early with a stretch and a yawn
The sun dazzles my eyes as i adjust to the picture
outside my window:
fresh snow
has covered the earth in a thick blanket...
my blanket still reflects the sunshine of memories in my mind
that dazzles me when I look at it.
The reflections make me wonder if the fresh white snow
is really as innocent as I once thought it to be
Just as I know my blanket holds secrets
that haven't yet
melted away.
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 6:25 PM UTC
November dazzles
In its mundanity.
The month between the
Russet autumn and blue winter.
Skeletal leaves
on the lyre are strung
In azure frosts
in emerald forests
and encrusted with rubies.
Novembers reclines in its throne.
In a minute,
a minute or so
It will slip to salt
and December's long
bequeathed chorus will begin
And so I will savour
these few shining seconds
a little longer.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 6:04 AM UTC
Today there were two
people talking too much
and too loud
in the library.
Guy says,
looking down
nose moving with his eyes
over the Times New Roman legs
of a book.
"He broke up with her because
her ***** smelled like ****
The girl across from him
has tiny fingers with no knuckles,
fingers that make tacking noises
on her Macbook.
She smiles,
in aquamarine
as the screen dazzles her pale
face.
"She probably had a yeast infection,
or something."
There are too many people talking,
but what rights do I have?
The right to laugh with them,
to be a part of it,
to be a comrade
to be mad because they're talking
while I'm pretending not to listen
and agree?
I broke up with a girl
because her ***** smelled like
an *******
There are too many people
full of double-entendres
and irony.
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 8:19 PM UTC
January 24th
I have dragged my body through the first lunar cycle
on my hands and knees, pathetically crawling to my last days on Earth.
The illuminating moonlight bleeds through the clouds and covers the shell that I call a body like a blanket.
It's face is a wolf, prideful and strong and courageous
and I am so jealous of the power it has.
The silver light dazzles on my skin, warms me, clothes me
kisses every inch of me.
I feel its energy in my veins swimming in my blood as the wolf howls and its voice floods my ears
and I shine and everyone turns to admire my beauty.
The moon cannot shine without help from the sun,
and now I will shine upon them
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 8:22 AM UTC
Vivid forget me nots feign sleep,
their tired eyes tinged pink.
The soap and chlorine
at Lyme Regis bay
doth stand to make me think
About the way the rushes grow
and what lurks amount the reeds,
what gently dazzles
behind closed doors
and what we doth concede.
Is the laurel leaf unfathomable?
Is nature that way too?
For I feel that I don't understand
what every body seems to.
The humbled bumbles rumbled buzz
Satin saints upon our door
We wonder what was here,
And what was there before.
The streaming stained glass
waterfalls, were they always there?
The sickled moon stands amorous,
clotted clouds about his hair.
Stately sit the beaded stars
in a wash of sky,
And still I sit, Still I sit,
Sit and wonder why.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
That blonde hair dazzles me from afar,
Moments escape and minutes tick by
Stealing my precious heart beats,
Each a new beat for my blonde
Fellow.
My eyes gaze from afar,
Over his gray sweater
To the perfectly fit khakis at his
Waist and down to his brown
Suede shoes.
Oh, how I wish to feel the
Cotton at his neck, but only
Am I permitted to admire
From afar.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
Grace Before Meals
Sunday afternoon, a year ago.
Early but late afternoon, end of July sun still high enough
to provide a loving and kind warmth through fractus clouds,
But doing double duty and
Supplying continuous eye candy via
riots of razzle-dazzles glistenings upon the prima facie of
my friend, my boon companion,
my bay.
Sitting on a weathered Adirondack chair,
grayed like me, a solitary outpost,
our third Musketeer,
it so belongs where I find it, in the corner of the yard,
hard by a white picket fence and footed by
an out cropping,
a patch of wild grass uncarpeted, we are aligned,
the chair and I, in so many ways,
we accompany each other
beach-facing, one unit,
designed by man but
nature-made of, and signed by her in a cursive, gentle script as follows:
**Quiet, please, for this is
a place of our mutual
quiet contemplation.**
These regal chairs are tinged with green moss stains,
as I am tinged with silver streaks
so we laugh at each other
and we laugh together,
delighted to share
the grandeur of the pleasure of
the exactness of this precise moment.
The bay claps its waves
in honor of the symmetry
of the trinity of man, wood and water,
a more perfect union
My woman calls to me,
supper is ready and
I smell the onions and the raisins
and the love that singes our shared salted air
With deep regrets and promises solemn,
Adieu, Adieu my friends, bay and chair, sunlight extraordinaire,
wait for me!
This poem but my R.S.V.P.
an oath of return sworn,
for I am man, placed here only
to sing the praises of my earthly delights,
my truest friends,
I sing of thy grace,
Grace Before A Meal
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 4:06 AM UTC