Apr 7, 2014 Uncategorized
Exhortation
(OR Who the Hell Knows What This Is About?!)
©April 7, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram
Force the wo-
rds
Cor-
ral them, he-
rd them
Cro
wd them, ha-
rass them
Cow them into sub-
Put them on the boat
That awaits all words.
Yes!
(Poetry thrives on this –
The fear of silence.
Prose does, too.
Except that it has
So much more space,
So much more leeway.
So much wind blowing
Madly through chapters,
Stirring our consciences,
Making us stammer out
Confessions.)
And, like a silken thread
Running palely blue and gold
Between words and worlds,
Silence glows,
A Presence
Waiting to be glimpsed,
An Absence
For whom we yearn.
Death can wait.
Death knows how.
Death lies low
Waiting to spring
From the shadowy recesses,
Near where Charon waits.
And Life turns
Her head, as she flees
The Silence,
While the words
Become a ghost,
Wailing for her
Orpheus, us.
And all around us,
Roll her echoes,
As we climb, sobbing
Into the light.
Tags: #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, #Orpheus, Charon, Escape from Hades, Life and Death, Sound and Silence
Apr 7, 2014 Uncategorized
What it Means
©April 4th, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram
To be human
Is to be
Open to life
Open to newness
Open to love
Open to beauty
Open to building
Open to creation
Yet, it can sometimes be
Often so.
It can mean
Being pliant
Giving in
Suppressing need
Caring
Giving
Scattering of self
Nurturing at great cost. And always, it is
For it calls
For tearing down,
Destruction
Undoing
Till, at the end,
All that’s left
Is the kernel of
The original self.
And a whirlwind
Waiting in the wings.
And a field, far, far away
Waiting to receive it.
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Tags: #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, humanness, What it means to be human
Apr 7, 2014 Uncategorized
ROOTS
©April 4th, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram
I was in a fruitish mood today.
Brutish and fruitish.
But now, in the still afternoon,
I feel rootish too.
As in, I want potatoes
And carrots and beets
And turnips
And other rootish things.
I want to eat ROOTS!
Roots! The fundamentals,
The basic, the beginning
The origin, the start,
The building blocks.
From the roots, the shoots,
From the shoots, the leaves
From the leaves, the flowers,
From the flowers, the fruits,
From the fruits, the seeds,
And from the seeds,
The ROOTS!
That’s where I wish to be.
Buried deep in soil.
Warm, cozy, at ease with worms
Curled tightly against the cold
Protected from frost and
Protected from callous disregard.
If I were close to the earth,
I should not care
I would not worry
I would rest easy,
Knowing my turn will come.
But once you’re above-ground
You’re easy prey.
Birds, bees, moles, well,
Actually people, seek you out.
You put on a show of greenness
Of flowers and grace
You dance in the vagrant breeze
You give of yourself.
You bend to the will of others.
You forfeit yourself.
You scatter your seed
And you sleep.
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Tags: #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, Poem, roots
Apr 7, 2014 Original Poetry
Banish The Strawberry!
©April 4th, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram
My strawberry is bright red*, she said.
Red is my strawberry, bright at night
Strawberry is the color of things that are bright
But redness is about blood.
Blood is about life and death.
Is it not?
So, is my strawberry about life and death?
Here, before me, sits the strawberry.
Red as death oozing away from life.
Twitching, lifeless, it sits,
Pulp to pulp,
Juices to juices.
Crushed to dust.
When bright red occurs,
Beware!
Life is ready to flee.
Strawberries are harbingers
Heralds,
Forerunners,
Bringers of death.
Beware the strawberry!
Be not beguiled by its rich
Juicy, pulpy, prickly,
Spotted, green-topped self.
Its true nature lurks,
A serpent in the Garden
Of Eating.
Repeating silkily and pokily.
I am life, life, life,
And, all the while, plotting
Your death, death, death.
YES!
Banish that strawberry.
It means no good.
* KF!
Tags: #Humor, almost NaPoWriMo, fruit poem, strawberry
Apr 7, 2014 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries
Pinecone and Stick
©April 6th, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram
Walking, I gaze at the passing of things.
Inexplicably sad.
The sun shines.
A hollow gong sounds.
Heart beats
Dully, solidly.
Birds carol loudly.
Children play.
Dogs cavort.
Springtime blooms.
Silence reigns.
My mind listens with
Half an ear.
Beside me, a tail wags.
A smile curves the air.
A brief “woof” startles.
A stick becomes
A thing of desire.
A pine cone the apex
Of beauty, pride in possession.
A run home, two hearts pounding.
Two sets of legs, one biped
The other, quadruped
Fly over cement sidewalks
Race up the flight
Of stairs, all the way
Home.
Water lapped.
Water sipped.
Things settle.
Sadness meanders away,
Replaced by a pinecone and a stick
In the mouth of my pup.
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Tags: #NaPoWriMo, Holly, pinecones and sticks, Puppy, sadness, springtime, Walk in the park