Apr 25, 2016 Free Verse, NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry
Ishmael – A Fever in a Dream
©April 25th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
The whale sings of coral, and of algae
The whale sings of deep sea divers
Who dive for the perfect pearl
The Pearl of the World.
And as they come and go,
The whale watches from afar,
And sings her lonely song
Waiting for her pod,
For she is lost, as she sings:
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And, singing, she turns
About and around, and bursts to breach
The surface, and startle the waiting sky,
Her heartbreak and her loneliness
Breathe song into the listening air,
And pull in longing into her lungs.
Without hope, without despair,
Without sorrow or pain,
She sings these thoughts:
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
But she knows nothing of saints,
She knows nothing of pity.
The sound of whale-song,
Is what fills her heart.
She sings and she sings, and no one
Hears her, save a sailor or three
Whose names might be Ishmael,
Or, mayhap, Ahab, or Other.
Falsely is she named
And falsely pursued.
But in the end, she escapes
Them all, for in the end,
She finds her pod,
As they swim towards her,
With welcoming flukes
And welcome songs,
As she sings hers:
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea.
In the end, all humans die
On the heaving heart of water,
Save one, just the one,
And in the end, does this man
Roam the wide, wide sea.
An albatross around his neck,
Swings like a pendulum,
Marking the days, the hours
That tick by, as he thirsts
Endlessly, and cries to the skies:
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
Or, perhaps, it’s a cross
The one he bears, and will bear
Till the end of his days,
As he cries for respite.
Or, perhaps, it’s a pendant
Full of flash and beauty
Signifying nothing, just a piece
Of coral and a pearl on a string
Torn from the gut of a
Dying sea-thing.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
He thirsts and he cries,
This lonely man, as he’s found,
And he rises among the pod,
A man among whales.
And as they hold him aloft,
Forgiving him the ills
Of his kind. He bursts
Into a thousand points
Of light, and dissolves
Himself in salt and water
And makes of himself
A feast for the sea.
And the whale, flowing
In his wake, cries for him
As he re-forms, and grows
Into plankton to feed her.
And she eats and sings:
“Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
This man who drifted
Took pity on my soul
In agony.
“And offered of himself
That I might feed.
My pod is the pod of
Ishmael, and we shall
Roam the seas, always singing,
‘Remember this man
This Ishmael, this lost one,
Who roamed for years,
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide, wide sea!’
And take heart, for he
Lives among us, still.
_________________________________________________________________
In response to Day 25 prompt from NaPoWrimo:
(I guess I chose a magic-realist route!)
And now for our (optional) prompt! Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that begins with a line from a another poem (not necessarily the first one), but then goes elsewhere with it. This will work best if you just start with a line of poetry you remember, but without looking up the whole original poem. (Or, find a poem that you haven’t read before and then use a line that interests you). The idea is for the original to furnish a sort of backdrop for your work, but without influencing you so much that you feel stuck just rewriting the original!. For example, you could begin, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day,” or “I have measured out my life with coffee spoons,” or “I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster,” or “they persevere in swimming where they like.” Really, any poem will do to provide your starter line – just so long as it gives you the scope to explore. Happy writing!
Tags: #Ahab, #Coleridege references, #Ishmael, #Poetic references and allusions, #TheRimeoftheAncientMariner, S.T. Coleridge
Apr 24, 2016 NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry, sonnet
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Borrowed
The Star-Poacher (On Borrowing)
©April 24th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I was hungry; food had been denied me
I went abroad, my trusty net in hand
To hunt down stars which had been snagged by trees
I brought them down to eat, though they were banned.
I chased after a shooting star, but found
‘Twas full of salt and rock, and oily ore.
Besides, I liked to eat the light and sound
Of things I’d stolen from the Big Bang’s store
The moon came swimming by into my ken
I spread my net to catch her, but alack,
I fell in, but was hoisted there and then
Upon a passing comet’s friendly back.
Now, borrowing this comet’s tail I ride
To space to hunt and eat the stars that hide.
______________________________________________________________________
Note: I already wrote a Petrarchan sonnet yesterday for NaPoWriMo, but I thought I’d write a Shakespearean sonnet as well for today’s The Daily Post prompt, and cross-post it to NaPoWriMo.
(Somewhere deep within, I think I was inspired by Italo Calvino’s Cosmicomics, although I didn’t think about it consciously while writing this sonnet! Calvino rules!)
Tags: #Borrowed, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Shakespearean Sonnet, #TheDailyPost, #TheDailyPrompt
Apr 24, 2016 Free Verse, NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry
Lucubrations of a Doggy Sort
©April 24th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I inveigle my canine companion
Into perambulating with me
Down the street
To do her doggy business.
Her Linty Goofiness
Sidesteps my urgent
Persuasions and entreaties
Staunchly, steadfastly refusing
To step onto the patch of grass
Oh no, not she!
What catches her fancy
Is a squirrel, bushy-tailed,
Impertinent, inquisitive,
Flashing its tail at her,
Semaphoring inter-species
Flirtation – or, could it be
That the squirrel wishes to
Incite my dog’s not-too-hidden
Need for committing mayhem?
My dog, thus instigated
Tears around at the end
Of quivering leash,
Barking her head off,
While my inner self
Doubles over in helpless
Cachinnation, and my outer one
Vociferates fiercely
With loud and indignant calls.
The squirrel leaves,
Peace returns,
The dog meditates on
The grassy patch of a
Toronto sidewalk,
Leaves her scent
For another to comment on,
And trots serenely on,
With me in tow.
These and more shallow
Thoughts occupy
My sieve-like mind,
As I lucubrate
Over this pathetic
Efflux, and labour over
Ephemeral pursuits,
Like Poetry.
_______________________________________________
In response to the NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 24:
And last but not least, our prompt (optional, as always). Today I challenge you to write a “mix-and-match” poem in which you mingle fancy vocabulary with distinctly un-fancy words. First, spend five minutes writing a list of overly poetic words – words that you think just sound too high-flown to really be used by anyone in everyday speech. Examples might be vesper, heliotrope, or excelsior. Now spend five minutes writing words that you might use or hear every day, but which seem too boring or quotidian to be in a poem. Examples might be garbage disposal, doggy bag, bathroom. Now mix and match examples from both of your lists into a single poem. Hopefully you’ll end up with a poem that makes the everyday seem poetic, and which keeps your poetic language grounded. Happy writing!
Tags: #DoggyBusiness, #Mix-and-Match-Poem, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram
Apr 23, 2016 NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry, sonnet, Uncategorized
Curtain-Close
©April 23rd, 2016By Vijaya Sundaram
When the curtain falls, and it’s time to sleep
The long sleep, I’ll give thanks for life, and go
To where my spirit takes me, and you’ll know
‘Tis not the time to mourn – so, do not weep.
There are things I will toss, and things I’ll keep
Resentment and regret, these shall I throw
Disappointment will soon be next to go
Grief is harder, for it is far too deep
For tears or fare-thee-wells, with ties that bind
Us all across our flesh and blood and cell.
So do not cry. For I’ll emerge from night
(Though I shall miss all those I’ll leave behind)
When I step forth among the stars to dwell
In clouds of nebulae to rest in light.
__________________________________________________
P.S. This is my VERY FIRST Petrarchan sonnet (and I tried my hand at sonnets as a form only since October of 2015)! Yay! Another form I finally tackled (and one I’d hitherto avoided, because I was worried I couldn’t do it)!
Petrarchan Sonnet: a sonnet form popularized by Petrarch, consisting of an octave with the rhyme scheme abbaabba and of a sestet with one of several rhyme schemes, as cdecde or cdcdcd. Also called Italian sonnet.
And finally, our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I challenge you to write a sonnet. Traditionally, sonnets are 14-line poems, with ten syllables per line, written in iambs (i.e., with a meter in which an unstressed syllable is followed by one stressed syllable, and so on). There are several traditional rhyme schemes, including the Petrarchan, Spenserian, and Shakespearean sonnets. But beyond the strictures of form, sonnets usually pose a question of a sort, explore the ideas raised by the question, and then come to a conclusion. In a way, they are essays written in verse! This means you can write a “sonnet” that doesn’t have meet all of the traditional formal elements, but still functions as a mini-essay of a sort. The main point is to keep your poem tight, not rangy, and to use the shorter confines of the form to fuel the poem’s energy. As Wordsworth put it, in a very formal sonnet indeed, “Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room.” Happy writing!
Tags: #DeathandBeyond, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Petrarchan Sonnet
Apr 22, 2016 Free Verse, NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry
Written in response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Earth
Forgive Us Now … And at the Time of Your Death
©April 22nd 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
She bloomed
In the chaos of night,
In the clang and clamor
Of her birth-pains,
In the clash and clutter
Of planets forming,
Re-forming,
Dying, becoming moons
Or clouds, or dust.
She birthed
Microbes and giants,
And sea-things and air-things
And ground-things,
In a frenzied burst
Of lonely lust
Of love, perhaps.
Hostile space
Pressing down, down upon her –
An untamed sun,
A runaway moon,
Gas-giants in the distance,
And nary a friend.
She formed and re-formed
Herself, my sui generis
My Earth.
She, my mother,
Whom I love beyond all
Whose trees I worship,
Whose animals I adore,
Whose horrors I fear,
Whose gifts I revere,
Dies before our eyes.
Weep! Weep tears of blood!
Write pretty poetry!
Write paeans unending.
Write songs and ditties.
Dance for her,
Clear her air,
Plant more trees,
Halt her death,
Try!
Alas, you cannot,
You cannot,
You cannot.
Crumple down now,
Down on your knees,
Lift up your hands,
Cry!
Pray!
Ah yes, and do, please
Celebrate today,
Your Earth day!
Celebrate – and beg for
Her forgiveness.
This is the sin
I will own.
Forgive us all.
Forgive me,
O My Mother.
________________________________________
Also submitting this as my second Earth poem to NaPoWriMo:
Tags: #EarthDay, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost, #TheDailyPrompt
Apr 22, 2016 NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry, Rhymed couplets
Happy Earth-day – A Ragged Ditty
©April 22nd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Good day, O Earth!
Emerged at birth
With storms and light
And endless night,
You burst to life
From bloodless strife.
And then, life grew,
And plants all new
Arose and filled
Your carbon mill
With pure air sweet,
Until our feet
Tromped far and wide,
With steps of pride.
And now, a shroud
Of methane clouds
From humankind’s
Polluting minds
Covers your world.
Still, you unfurl
Your petals fair,
And everywhere
Life grows and blooms,
Grows old in gloom,
And dies in time,
While sunny climes
Burn stridently,
And frozen ones
Melt silently.
Perhaps, She’ll live
And She’ll forgive
Our transgressions,
Our aggressions,
Our ignorance,
Restore balance
And leave us out –
Without a doubt
The one mistake
She will not make
This time around.
(In shame we’ll drown.)
But still I walk
These shaded woods
And still I talk
With hopeful “shoulds”
And still I hear
The bubbling streams
While I ignore
My troubling dreams.
For time is short
And life will end
Make space for creatures,
Be Earth’s friend
Love all of life,
And all that’s here
May peace and love
This planet steer.
_____________________________________________________
P.S. Not my best poem, but I wanted to write one anyway.
(I’m a little tired, and need to sleep)
This is NaPoWriMo‘s prompt for Day 22:
And now for our (optional) prompt. Today’s prompt comes to us from Gloria Gonsalves, who also suggested our prompt for Day Seven. Today, Gloria challenges us all to write a poem in honor of Earth Day. This could be about your own backyard, a national park, or anything from a maple tree to a humpback whale. Happy writing!
Apr 21, 2016 Free Verse, NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry
What the Mountain Heard
(Poem From Point of View of Echo’s Mountains)
©April 21st, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Whom does she call, this Voice
So alluring, so full of anguish,
So rich with music, quickening
With languishing love,
So haunted by lost hope?
Whom does she mourn,
Surely the most forlorn, the
Most beautiful of nymphs
Ever to dance lightly
Upon my slopes,
This sylph smitten by love?
Innocent nymph, so
Free from travails ere now
Now, entrammeled by woe
Why do you cry and call?
Fallen into a spell that
Besets those who live,
Whom do you mourn?
Why did you succumb?
Look! Don’t cry. For I
Will magnify your voice
Thrice three times,
Again and again and again,
For you sing me the music I crave.
I will repeat your brave words
So they will be heard
Again, and again, and again.
Come, call out once more,
For I have grown to love you,
And though that proud lad
Gazing at his beloved pool
Heeds not the sound,
I know the Pool does,
For she creases her brow
And clears again – she will
Not allow your interference.
She will frown, and erase
The ripples you cause
With your cries, your voice.
Foolish Pool, keep your boy!
I’ll have my girl, for she learns
She is not loved, not by him.
She will wander my slopes
Over, and over and over,
Seeking what she will not find
I will love her, and she’ll
Not know me, not she who loves
A mirage, an emptiness, a reflection.
But I shall hold her voice
In my cradle of sound
Forever, and ever, and ever.
_______________________________________________
And the NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 21:
And now, for our prompt (optional as always!) Just as Rosa Jamila’s poems often sound like they come out of a myth or fairy tale (and not always one with a happy ending), today I challenge you to write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth. Instead of writing from the point of view of Cinderella, write from the point of view of the mouse who got turned into a coachman. Instead of writing from the point of view of Orpheus or Eurydice, write from the point of view of one of the shades in Hades who watched Eurydice leave and then come back. Happy writing!
Sent from my iPhone
Apr 21, 2016 Free Verse, NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry
What the Pool Saw
(Poem From Point of View of Narcissus’ Pool)
©April 21st, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I am loved.
I know this to be true, because
When a beautiful young man
Leaned over, and gazed at me,
His eyes were a mirror
In which I beheld my
Own true beauty, my
Sky-clad translucence.
Entranced, I gazed back.
Gaia had sent him to me.
My loneliness now arose
Like mist from a dream
And vanished in sunlight.
And I contrived to keep him
In my thrall, despite the ripples
That disturbed my gleam
Despite the dream threatening
To sweep him away into
The chasm yawning beneath him,
Where he would’ve lost to me.
And somewhere, I heard
A forlorn voice, cascading
Like a silver waterfall
From the lonely mountains.
But I gazed at myself in his
Deep, brimming eyes, and
Was utterly
Lost.
_______________________________________________
And the NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 21:
And now, for our prompt (optional as always!) Just as Rosa Jamila’s poems often sound like they come out of a myth or fairy tale (and not always one with a happy ending), today I challenge you to write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth. Instead of writing from the point of view of Cinderella, write from the point of view of the mouse who got turned into a coachman. Instead of writing from the point of view of Orpheus or Eurydice, write from the point of view of one of the shades in Hades who watched Eurydice leave and then come back. Happy writing!
Sent from my iPhone
Tags: #NarcissusandthePool, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #PointofViewPoem
Apr 20, 2016 Free Verse, NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry
En Route to Toronto
©April 20th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
She flies along, skimming surfaces
With eel-ease, flowing through air
Purring now, growling at times,
This Traveler, swift as a swallow,
Carrying travelers, still as stone.
Companionable and old she is, but proud,
Unwilling to give up the ghost,
Nursed along by stubbornness.
The star-cradle bends low
As we fly horizon-wards
In a sunless space pierced by eyes
Streaming light –unblinking, lidless.
We converse about times past and present,
Of medieval castles and modern dwellings in cities and towns
Where the great Hum of humanity
Makes a song too passing strange to comprehend.
And we make the great Mother keen
While we ride her scarred body,
Criss-crossing her veins.
Our innocent Traveller – she, who
Drinks the ancient blood
Of dead Titans struck down in their prime
Along with the rest of her ilk –
Hums along absently, as she
Brings the slow, ineluctable
Collapse of all we know.
… Still, we like driving to Toronto.
_____________________________________________________________
(I wrote this IN the car, on the way to Toronto — wrote it on my phone, at 11:31 p.m. Please forgive any lapse of language or imagination!)
In response to the NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 20:
And finally, our prompt (optional, as always)! Today’s prompt comes to us from Vince Gotera, who suggests a prompt very much in keeping with our poet in translation, a “kenning” poem. Kennings were riddle-like metaphors used in the Norse sagas. Basically, they are ways of calling something not by its actual name, but by a sort of clever, off-kilter description — for example, the sea would be called the “whale road.” Today, I challenge you to think of a single thing or person (a house, your grandmother, etc), and then write a poem that consists of kenning-like descriptions of that thing or person. For example, you might call a cat a mouse-stalker, quiet-walker, bird-warner, purr-former, etc. If you’re looking for examples, you can find one that Vince wrote here and a different example here. Happy writing!
Apr 20, 2016 NaPoWriMo
I’m the featured participant for NaPoWriMo’s Day Twenty (with my How to Clean Your House poem!)
Yay!
Thank you, NaPoWriMo!
_________________________________________________