Jul 27, 2016 Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Crisis-Planet
©July 27th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Once, there was a planet.
She was a beautiful jewel.
With blue, green, white and brown
Her birds sang everywhere,
And bees and butterflies
Flew from flower to flower,
And fruits grew in profusion
There were animals that roamed
And fish that swam, each
Eating and eaten in turn,
But always in balance, in harmony,
While the winds swirled, and the rains fell,
And the earth gave of herself
In an ecstasy of abundance.
And then, the Makers of tools came,
And created things, beautiful to behold.
And the Makers needed more
To make more, and they took more.
And they planted and dug and grew
Things to make more of themselves.
And as they took, they broke the rules
Of nature and of regeneration,
And dug and mined and broke and built.
And they added debris and dust,
And waste and wretchedness to the earth.
Now, fires lick the arms of trees
Sweeping madly across the forest
Animals flee, creatures die
The air is dry as dust
With smoke, and burning brush
Assails the senses.
Water dries up in its wake
And a vast, roaring sheet
Of flame engulfs the ground.
Oceans fill with plastic and oil
And human-made machines break
The delicate sound-scape
Of whale-song and dolphin-click.
And fishes flee, turtles die
Birds are trapped, whales lose the way.
Deserts grow, forests recede,
Highways criss-cross ever more terrain
And the rain forgets to visit.
The Arctic melts, methane fields
Await release, and carbon dioxide
Soars silently past the numbers
That climb and climb, even as we
Pump out more exhaust, more factory-smoke.
How, then, can we say
The earth is not in crisis?
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Tags: #Crisis, #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Postaday, #TheDailyPost
Jul 27, 2016 Friday Fictioneers, Original Flash Fiction, Original Short Story
PHOTO PROMPT © Janet Webb
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Drowning
©July 27th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Leila stood in a corner, sipping water, wondering why she’d attended the party.
It’s not that I’m ugly, she thought. I’m … boring. And I hate small talk.
Well, I won’t stick around, she decided, setting the glass down. She moved towards the door, waving a vague goodbye.
A beautiful woman who had glanced over a few times, detached herself from a group of attractive hipsters and came over.
“Hi, I’m Rona. Want to join us?”
“I’ve got to catch a taxi home.”
“I’ll drive you home. What’s your name?”
“Leila,” she answered. She locked eyes with Rona. Her heart lurched.
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Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, our much-admired Fairy Blog-Mother, for hosting us tirelessly at her Friday Fictioneers Salon, and to Janet Webb, for the evocative photograph.
Tags: #FridayFictioneers, #Loneliness, #Love, #Original 100-word Flash Fiction based on a photo-prompt