"naughtiest" poems
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
Put on a saw
Movie
I will ware nothing
More then
A thong as we
Watch and **** eachother
Slowly and sweetly
Bring out that naughtiest
In me
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 3:30 PM UTC
Since I have no other way
And am in utmost need,
Painter girl,
I filch one of the eight lambs
You have made plump with
Green jackfruit leaves and
Thin gruel with paddy bran.
I will take it to the goat market
And sell it in a jiffy.
I assure you
I will not sell it
To any butcher-
The lamb you made chubby
With sweet sweet words
And much much petting
And nice lilting croons,
Mixing and mixing
Greens with browns.
Don’t be sad, painter girl.
I hear you come running
Searching for your lamb and
Cry out “O my dearest one
Who went grazing in the green fields,”
As the sun in your canvas
Sets in the sea and
The saffron blends with the dusk.
And, see your tears mingle
With the black that you wanted
To adorn the brow of
The naughtiest of them.
Painter girl,
It’s all because I have no other go
And it’s of utmost need.
I could have broken into the
Two-storeyedhouse you sketched
And stolen the ornaments in
Secret lockers that even
You are unaware of.
Or, I could have
Palmed the golden girdle
Of the beautiful ***** princess
Whose portrait you made,
The one with a nose stud.
Or, drugged her with my kisses
And plundered the harem.
Or else, I could have
Entered the snake shrine
Guarded by the dark serpents
That you often drew
And fled the country with
The precious jewel.
Or, I could have shot down
The birds that you drew
And sold them grilled.
I could have axed down the
Mahagony trees you nurtured
And sold them as timber.
I could have blinded your Kanhaiah
And made him a beggar
To become rich from the alms he earned.
I could have enslavened his Gopis
And handed them over
To the red light streets.
Painter girl,
It’s not for anything of this sort.
I take just one of your eight lambs.
Sell it for a good price
And fulfill my need.
Now, perchance,
If a new tenant comes to rent
My brain where nothing resides
And if they pay me a fat advance,
Painter girl,
Surely will I buy back your lamb.
And tether it in your painting.
Don’t you dare say then
Don’t you say then
That you have forgotten it.
Don’t you say then
You have exhausted your stock of
Green jackfruit leaves.
(Trans from Malayalam by Ra Sh)
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 10:04 AM UTC
You've always been fully aware of what lies
Between these thighs
You just weren't sure
If you could ever lure
Me to let you slide
Into the sweetness that they hide
Caramel or chocolate
Of late
You haven't been sure
Which one is sweeter
Than the honeycomb offered not on a plate
But hidden between my legs
The craving in your groin
Longs for a taste
You dream of my *****
Hotter than larva or fire
Burning with desire
For a deep ***********
That leaves me wetter than a summer's rain
**** my sweet nectar
Be filled to the brim, my star
Remind me of my naughtiest fantasies
As you show me all your fetishes
Grab my hips
Push them up and down
Even if the rhythm is imperfect
Plunge deep, for me that's perfect
I will hold you deep inside
Your manhood I'll hide
My lips I'll bite
Because I know I might
Not be able to hold my tongue
And let a loud scream escape my lungs
As we ride blissful waves
Drowning in beautiful escapes
Forgetting our surroundings
Until we reach the land of milk and honey
Miss Fit ⚓
Feb 9, 2023
Feb 9, 2023 at 3:48 PM UTC
Since I have no other way
And am in utmost need,
Painter girl,
I filch one of the eight lambs
You have made plump with
Green jack fruit leaves and
Thin gruel with paddy bran.
I will take it to the goat market
And sell it in a jiffy.
I assure you
I will not sell it
To any butcher-
The lamb you made chubby
With sweet sweet words
And much much petting
And nice lilting croons,
Mixing and mixing
Greens with browns.
Don’t be sad, painter girl.
I hear you come running
Searching for your lamb and
Cry out “O my dearest one
Who went grazing in the green fields,”
As the sun in your canvas
Sets in the sea and
The saffron blends with the dusk.
And, see your tears mingle
With the black that you wanted
To adorn the brow of
The naughtiest of them.
Painter girl,
It’s all because I have no other go
And it’s of utmost need.
I could have broken into the
Two-storeyed house you sketched
And stolen the ornaments in
Secret lockers that even
You are unaware of.
Or, I could have
Palmed the golden girdle
Of the beautiful ***** princess
Whose portrait you made,
The one with a nose stud.
Or, drugged her with my kisses
And plundered the harem.
Or else, I could have
Entered the snake shrine
Guarded by the dark serpents
That you often drew
And fled the country with
The precious jewel.
Or, I could have shot down
The birds that you drew
And sold them grilled.
I could have axed down the
Mahagony trees you nurtured
And sold them as timber.
I could have blinded your Kanhaiah
And made him a beggar
To become rich from the alms he earned.
I could have enslaved his Gopis
And handed them over
To the red light streets.
Painter girl,
It’s not for anything of this sort.
I take just one of your eight lambs.
Sell it for a good price
And fulfil my need.
Now, perchance,
If a new tenant comes to rent
My brain where nothing resides
And if they pay me a fat advance,
Painter girl,
Surely will I buy back your lamb.
And tether it in your painting.
Don’t you dare say then
Don’t you say then
That you have forgotten it.
Don’t you say then
You have exhausted your stock of
Green jack fruit leaves.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
I read your words according to my mood,
Time of day, and perception of caring
And yet, you alter those easily
I love the hint of a smile
Though I cannot see what isn't there
Your voice in my mind as you whisper my name
Lures me to the brink with a sigh
Longing to be touched by delicate hands
Kissed with blatant intention
You, my love, my lust, my naughtiest desire
You are my darkest temptation
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 6:14 AM UTC
*Sitting on a snow capped window sill
in the hospital a little boy so ill
the tiny faery shed a tear
so much sadness
with blessed Christmas so near.
Outside the snowflakes
cover the town.
Soft and gentle
like feathered down.
.the tiny boy once eyes so bright
would not last another night.
Flying inside she kissed his head.
Sitting with him on his bed.
She sent a message on a dove
to the faery queen up high above.
The magic he needs is beyond my reach.
Please save him my Queen I do beseech.
Take his fever from his sweet brow.
Dont let his soul leave the world just now.
Make him well make him strong
Fill his sweet heart with Christmas song.
The faery Queen peeked through a cloud.
Her little fairy crying aloud.
It was Angel Bell she knew her well.
the naughtiest fairy in Fairyland.
But she was holding his tiny hand.
Angel Bell cried I will never again be bad.
Please save the little human lad.
The Queen led the faery folk in song
Let him be well let him be strong
Fill his heart with Christmas Song
We make him well the faery way.
To live and play on Christmas day.
His Mom was crying
when she heard the phone
It was her son
Mom Come bring me home*
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC