Mar 19, 2013 Uncategorized
A Winged Race– A Poem
©By Vijaya Sundaram
March 19th, 2013
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And she will walk tall
An Athena, an Aphrodite,
An Artemis, a Hestia.
Above all, she will be Gaia.
And she will smile
In all her wisdom, for
She will be the bringer
The herald of the morrow
Sans sorrow, sans dread.
With compassion and passion,
She will unfold the mystery
The beauty, the burgeoning
Of life, tender and tragic,
Full of magic and love.
And he, in turn will arise
Reach for her, steady himself
And walk tall beside her.
And he will be an Unnamed One,
For that is what we need.
And he will be there
Alongside her, respect
In his eyes and heart,
And love will bear root there.
And what is love,
If there be not respect?
And what is respect,
If there be not passion?
And what is passion,
If there be not compassion?
And what is compassion,
If there be not acceptance?
And what are all these,
If there be not two beings
Building together, living
Learning, loving, glowing,
Growing together?
*And new women will arise
And walk, hand in love with women.
And new men will straighten
And walk hand in love with men.*
And they will all be as earth and water,
Tree and soil, air and vapor,
And they will rebuild upon the
Dead and desiccated lands.
And a new race of winged creatures
Will arise and take flight.
And life will rejoice, for it will
Not all have been in vain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
P.S. I realized that the poem sounded rather Christian (rather like an ode to Adam and Eve, which was totally NOT my intention), so I added that asterisked stanza. I am not Christian. I am a Hindu by upbringing, and a spiritual atheist. I believe in equality between women and men. I believe in gay marriage. I believe in the right of all people to emotionally and physically love whomever they choose, as long the expression of this love is between consenting adults.
I am against violence of any kind, be it directed at women or men.
Tags: #Original Poetry, Celebrating LGBT, Celebrating Women, Equality, New Beginnings, Woman Power
Mar 19, 2013 Teaching and Learning
After Steubenville — A Poem
©By Vijaya Sundaram
March 19th, 2013
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A sickness has stolen into our worlds.
The souls of our young men,
Swollen with self-love
(Or could it be self-hatred?),
Fatten themselves upon the spirits
Of our young women, who,
Powerless, longing for recognition,
No matter whence it arrives,
Find themselves caught unawares
In the buffeting waves
Of the contempt and hate
That pulses in the swollen, unfettered
Power-crazed glands of young men.
After such crimes, what punishment?
And who shall speak for our girls?
Filled with confusion, eager for love,
Looking for direction, they follow
False trails, lose sight of themselves,
And, trapped in a mirror world,
Desperate, surrounded, they cry out,
Lose their way, flounder, flail, fall
Out of consciousness.
And the talking heads on idiot boxes
Blame them subtly, making mouth-noises.
Do they not see the horrors they condone,
Waggle-tongued hypocrites of our time
And of our shame? Worshippers of clay gods,
They babble and preen, loose-jawed
Purveyors of muck, shaking their heads,
While our girls lose consciousness.
After such crimes, what punishment?
And who shall speak for the boys?
Lust for power and narcissism,
Hero-worship and sports-worship
Create a crazy, mirror-world with distorted
Images, reality suspended, decency snuffed out,
Morality crushed underfoot, shame splintered!
Self-knowledge drowned in manic laughter,
They cavort like Pan’s satyrs.
A sickness afflicts our children.
And our girls shall not see freedom
And our young men shall know prison.
Each imprisoned in a hell that we,
The makers of our world, need to break down.
Break down, rebuild, rename, re-teach.
And we need to teach our children well
Or we shall all go to hell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Teach Our Children — Crosby, Stills and Nash YouTube Video
Tags: #Original Poetry, #Punishment, Crime, Media, Ohio, sick society, Steubenville, Teach Our Children
Mar 19, 2013 Awake in Dream Time - Journal Entries about the almost real, the surreal and the unreal, Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries
Snow Day–A Poem
©By Vijaya Sundaram
March 19th, 2013
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Woke up today to snow!
No school!
Feel like a child …
Alas, the feeling ends there.
Work calls.
I cover my ears
Pretend not to hear.
Nope. It’s insistent,
Like an unwanted visitor
Leaning on the doorbell.
Silence in the house.
No pulse stirs the walls,
Breath is suspended.
Lips parted, couched in bed, I wait,
Willing my intruder to vanish
Into the snow whence it came,
But it waits. It is patient.
I grumble and grouse.
I stop my ears with my fingers.
I go, la, la, la, la, la.
I arise, drink coffee, look out
See all that piled up snow.
I tend to my child,
Listen to my husband playing guitar.
But work always waits.
Quiet, brutally determined,
Work waits, arms crossed,
Infinitely aged and weary.
And I long for the quietude
Of my final rest.
I yearn, I yearn, I yearn
For my final rest.
Alas, I know my work
Will follow me there.
It is not to be spurned, rejected
Cast aside. It is wedded to me.
Sighing, I get up, allow my breath
To resume its rise and fall
And, with rueful smile,
I open the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Original Poetry, #Procrastination, Snow Day, Work