Dec 10, 2015 Uncategorized
Freedom Tracks
©December 10th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
See those children skipping rope.
They chant and sing and dream and hope
Playing hopscotch, playing tag
Their minutes stretch, but never drag.
See those dancers, see them swirl
Full of tight control, they whirl.
Gravity is just a word
Freedom is a song not heard,
But felt, in bones that stretch and bend
They dance through lives that have no end.
You toss your clothes, and plunge into
The foaming brine lunging at you,
You lose your fear, you lose your shame
And freedom is your middle name.
And when you find you’re mocked and scorned,
And wish you never had been born,
You drown in sadness for a while,
Then think “This gloom is not my style.
I’d rather read or sing a song,
Think nothing as I walk along.
I’m free! is what I think of me
And enjoy what I’ve come to be.”
You make your choices, moral ones
And answer none under the sun,
You live with love and joy and peace
From rage and hate you find release.*
That’s freedom too, my listening friends
(Though there are fences we might mend.)
When lost and all alone, you find
That time and maps are left behind,
You doff your fears, and make a track
With dog in front, and wind at back,
That’s freedom, darlings, this I know —
I hope to see you where I go.
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P.S. *Instead of that line, I first wrote, “But rage at Donald Trump’s hairpiece.” I couldn’t help it — I needed to write it. However, in the interests of Poesy, I had to change it.
Then, I showed it to my daughter, who instantly endorsed it, so I kept it for ten minutes longer, before I changed it.
P.P.S. I wanted to write a ditty, instead of a deep, winding, complicated, surreal piece, for a change.
Tags: #Original Poetry, #Writing 101, Poetry, Day 5, Ditty, Freedow
Dec 10, 2015 Uncategorized
Twist of Time
(A Surrealist Perspective)
©December 10th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Came a multi-chorused Voice
From the blue-green sphere:
May I have some more, Sir?
Please? Could I, do you think?
My life’s running out,
My heart’s pumped out dreams
And fear, desire and grief
My pulse hammers and quakes
In rhythm, in time.
SynchroniCity is the place
I want to be, but the dark
Comes close on my heels,
And my candle gutters
And is unsteady; I’m spent,
Stumbling on these sands
Sucked noisily, greedily
From the shore, while my feet
Feel the pull of the ocean beneath.
So many breaths spent
On fear, so many breaths lost
On the dreary dark,
So many breaths tossed on
Foolish words, foolish thoughts,
Foolish deeds, for I am a Fool,
Filling the air around me with sound.
How could I do otherwise?
I do but live, it’s what I know.
My tasks, my busy-ness plague me
Where I come and go is Life
All around, within and without.
I need to know this,
And this is all I ask:
Could you spare me a little time?
One more life, perhaps?
Or at least another hour?
Sixty minutes keeping pulse
With my pulse, with the swing
Of the planet in orbit –
Thirty-six thousand seconds –
Could I have some more, please?
That’s all I ask.
And in the sucking whirl
Of the sibilant sea, the crabs
Scuttled and made for the shore,
And the Voice waited, while a clock
Melted somewhere, and a fading Ear
Leaned down to listen,
And a gale swept through space
And the Voice scattered
In feathery bits, till all
Of it vanished, while the
Slowing seconds fell into orbit
Around a black hole,
And fell headlong into
The place before Time.
And the Ear leaned back.
Into its winding passageways,
Flowed all voices, all spaces,
All Time, and its Face folded
Into smooth lines of sleep.
Supremely indifferent,
It dreamed on, while the seconds
In a decaying orbit that never stopped,
Became twisted and wound into
An eternal braid winding around
And around Its memory, and
All was still once more.
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Tags: #Original Poetry, #Time, #Writing 101 Poetry Day 4, #Writing 101, Poetry, Oliver Twist reference, Salvador Dali reference, Seconds, Surrealist poem