Oct 9, 2015 Ramblings and Musings
I have loved many, many poets and poems since I was a young girl of eight or ten. From Donne to Blake, from Shakespeare to Milton, from Wordsworth to Tennyson, from Eliot to D.H. Lawrence, from Wilde to Yeats, from Emily Dickinson to Robert Frost, from Gwendolyn Brooks, May Sarton, Nikki Giovanni, Maya Angelou, Sonia Sanchez to Naomi Shihab Nye, from Sarojini Naidu to Rabindranath Tagore …
Here’s a poem by my favorite William Blake (of “Tyger, Tyger burning bright” fame) that just sprang to memory:
The Sick Rose
By William BlakeO Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
I found myself chilled to the bone when I heard a recording of this poem set to music composed by Benjamin Britten, and sung by his lover, the impeccable tenor Peter Pears:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Z8W177eCIY
Tags: #Writing 201, Poets I've loved, The Sick Rose, William Blake
Oct 9, 2015 Daily Life
Skunencounter
©October9th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
The day before yesterday, I was inside my house, attending to some trivial task, when I heard The Hod (one of my names for Holly, our nearly two-year old Standard Poodle, barking fit to burst outside in our back yard.
Ordinarily, I’d just yell, “Stop barking, Holly!” and repeat it a few times. Or (shame on me), I’d yell out, “TREAT!” and a hopeful, wagging, grinning dog would come trotting back to the kitchen door. The good thing at such times is that, though I use the term as a bribe, I follow it up with action, and actually give her a treat or two (I try not to lie to my dog — the only times I was guilty of doing so were the few times when I felt perverse, and yelled, “SQUIRREL,” which made her dash out into the backyard to lay waste to all squirrels, everywhere — but, of course, it’s all talk and no action on her part).
This time, however, her barking had a frantic, excited edge to it.
Realization and panic flooded me. I remembered that the previous day, I’d seen a small (adolescent?) skunk lumping across our yard in a sort of busy, distracted fashion, looking at this and that, before proceeding on its mysterious way. I’d happened to look at the clock, because I was surprised to see it out in the daytime. And the clock read 5:25 p.m. In my insatiable need -to-know manner, I’d looked up skunk behavior, wondering whether it might be rabid, and found out reassuring things (I won’t bore you with the details — you can read it here: http://www.wildskunkrescue.com/skunkbehaviors.htm) I’d made a mental note to keep an eye on the backyard, because that was Holly’s domain and Queendom.
So, this time, almost instinctively, I looked at the clock again before I raced to the kitchen door — yup. 5:20 or so! (For someone who hates Time, I manage to do a good job of keeping track of it).
All this happened in split seconds, you understand. I looked out the door, and there, on the planters on the retaining wall of the backyard, stood Holly, barking excitedly and dancing aggressively in front of a small, frightened, brave, snarling little skunk, who (the Gods be thanked) was still facing Holly — but whose tail was lifting dangerously. In seconds, it would turn and take aim.
I SCREAMED at Holly in a voice I didn’t know I possessed. Holly, Holly, HOLLY, COME BACK!
And, thank the stars! Holly looked at me, fought her impulse to kill the creature, and came back to me. I grabbed her by the collar, and took her into the kitchen, and slammed the door shut just in time! The skunk sprayed the back wall of the back yard, and left, probably freaked out of its little mind.
I have to hand it to the skunk. It was so small compared to my big poodle, and it was so brave. I felt sorry for it, and was oddly proud of it. I even wondered briefly whether it was orphaned, and whether I could adopt it.
But I have NO wish to have a skunkified dog stinking up my house.
I am now VERY vigilant when five o’clock comes rolling around.
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Tags: #Dog, Backyard encounter, Courage, Skunk
Oct 9, 2015 Original Poetry, Writing 201
Ode to My Beloved
(A non-Horatian Ode)
©October 9th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
You are the route I would like to traverse,
My beloved, companion of my days and life.
Your beautiful smile the lamplight
And your veins tracing your blood
To your heart, the mysterious tracks
To you.
A road so beautiful, your skin, and
Your body, that maps
All that life threw at you
And folds it into a new wrinkle!
Your voice is the breeze that wafts
Songs my way, as I set my face
You-wards.
And your love, the North Star
Guiding me home
To you.
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Tags: #Writing 201, A Non-Horatian Ode, Love poem