Jun 26, 2019 Original Poetry, Uncategorized
The Story of a Drowned Man and his Child
©June 25th, 2019
By Vijaya Sundaram
Land, dry as a bone.
Food, like a fading photo,
Vanishes, all gone.
Leaves in rushing wind:
People abandon their homes
Following a hope.
Death stands at borders,
Blond and tall, and forbidding
Hooded and unseen.
Voices clamor loud:
“Make Us Great Again.”
Shatter a pale sky.
Faces in water
River banks so near so far
Humanity drowns.
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Jun 26, 2019 Original Poetry, Uncategorized
Ferns and Birds, Present Tense
©June 26th, 2019
By Vijaya Sundaram
Inexpressibly tender,
Ferns in the back yard fan out
A forest of mushrooms springs up
Beneath, grateful for the shade.
After rain, the soil breathes gratitude,
And birds, less frantic now,
Sing of this and that, not food and water,
All urgency gone, just a song of thanks.
Deep red and clustered closely together,
The Japanese maple’s leaves
Capture sunlight, and let it slip
Through, like children at a beach
Let slip sand and water through
Wet hands, while laughter splashes the air.
For now, the present
Is a gift, eternal.
Thoughts are a distraction,
And the mind is a Doom-Monkey
Chattering away in future tense.
I sweep away thoughts of dissolution.
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