Jan 19, 2017 Uncategorized
Still Life With Stegosaurus and Bird
©January 19th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
An impossibility sits before me
A yellow bird perched on the head
Of a bemused and patient stegosaurus
Carrying a tall green candle.
I would like to shed light upon this matter
But I’d only scatter confusion
The stego’s eyes, red and determined,
Stare straight ahead, intent on
A journey that will never end.
(No one mentioned meteorites to him.)
The bird sings silently of the future,
One in which she will exist,
But not the stegosaurus.
(The bird wisely keeps her counsel.)
I catch her glance,
and put my finger to my lips.
We do not look at each other again.
I rise, turn out the light,
Proceed to bed, quiet as the night.
For now, they’re both safe.
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Tags: #BirdandStegosaurusandCandle, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram
Jan 19, 2017 Free Verse, Original Poetry
Woodlight
©January 18th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
We walked through the woods
Dog leaping like salmon ahead.
The sun was out, and the day stretched
Silk-like and shining, strand by strand,
As we took the crunchy path into the Fells,
Green in the whispering woodlight.
Mosses and fan-shaped fungi,
Snagged our attention as we walked
And the dog was joyous, for we paused
And, arrested by moss and dead leaves,
We did what she does … study the woods,
She with her nose, we with our eyes,
As the trees went about the business
Of the season, conversing quietly,
Dying by degrees, and mostly
Confident of resurrection.
The sky, silvery and shimmering
Broke into shards, as the dog
Stepped on cracking pond ice, snapping
Happily at frozen water.
Fractured images splintered into light.
We stood and drank the moment,
As the woods waited for us
To leave them in peace.
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Tags: #FamilyWalkintheWoods, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram
Jan 19, 2017 Free Verse, Original Poetry
The Tao of Tiredness
©January 18th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
I waste time like there’s no tomorrow
I borrow from my future, wandering
In place, as I squander the Now,
And scatter my largesse
To the fainting hours.
I sit, and let my cells multiply
And die, as I contemplate
What the present holds,
As I hold a glass of water
And stare at nothing.
I resist sleep, and resist action.
I resist factions and subtract
Any attempt at thought
From what I ought to do
I must be content, but I’m spent.
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