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Her lips, coffee, milk,
Scrambled omelet skin and toast,
First breakfast in bed.
Pictures everywhere,
Sweeping into our still house,
  .  .  .  Only after dust.
Judicious corridor
Risible, surreptitious
Elixir of self doubt
Bathed in radiance
Luminous arbitration
Crimson light
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
  25.02.2013.
  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).
A  gentle brook, I seek the ocean,
sitting cross legged on the ground, I imagine.
Index fingers of both hands press thumbs,
other three fingers remain straight,
both arms straight, rest on the knees,
"Chin Mudra" leads to the  sublime plane,
**'atman' the soul, merges with  the consciousness supreme.
*"Mudra" is a gesture or posture to control the life force(prana), practised by Indians from time immemorial.Each of the 25 Mudras stimulates various nodal points.Mudras have intense effect on nerves and energy flow.
**"Chinmudra"(Chit-consciousness-mudra) symbolizes the confluence of individual(index finger) and universal(thumb) consciousness.Index finger is associated to air element and thumb  with fire element.
It is the gesture of receiving.When the palms face upwards in Chin Mudra,  the chest and heart areas are opened up.Keep the eyes closed and regulate breathing.Dissipating excess energy Chin Mudra controls anger.
My mouth lies
where your lips laid
whispering my pain
to soft brocade

lace edged with tears
and furrowed brow
I wonder who
shares your dreams now

embroided hearts
taste of your kiss
pray tell me how
it came to this
These last two are just poems I'm fine honestly
Exploding flowers—
Maid earth stemming to the skies,
  .  .  .  Insects' point of view.
She found love after—
Drowning in dry beds then rose,
  .  .  .  Waters upwelling.
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