Jun 23, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Awe and Gratitude
©June 23rd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
The two-month old babe who smiles,
Bright and open like a new universe,
At the huge billboard at the airport,
With its smiling female face, all teeth;
The toddler who at 9-and-3/4-months
Teeters along on unsteady legs,
Desperate to be moving, not crawling.
Teaching herself what needs to be learned;
The little girl who tumbles into books,
As naturally as a frog tumbles into water
Finding solace therein; the two-and-a-half year-old
Who sings like an angel, in tune and in time.
The four-and-a-half year old who swims like an eel
The five-and-a-half year old who masters the swing-set,
The six-and-a-half year old bicycling in the breeze,
The seven-and-a-half year old stilting with ease;
The eight-year old dancing Kathak with grace,
The nine-year old who unicycles happily,
The ten year old, braided and solemn,
Who plays The Beatles on her guitar, and sings;
The eleven-year old with bobbed hair, off
To sleep-away camp for the first time,
Away from home for seven weeks,
Wearing confidence like a hoodie;
All of these years of her life
Entwined with mine, like honeysuckle,
Like climbing vines, reaching for sunlight;
All of these fill my heart with awe.
I kneel at the feet of Life and thank it
For giving me this Gift, this fey child
Who dreams, who loves us freely,
Who sings and reads, and plays and thinks,
And I am truly grateful.
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Also, cross-posting to dVerse Open Link Night
Tags: #Awe, #DailyPrompt, #dVerse, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
Jun 22, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Empty and Full
©June 22nd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Empty is good
It can be filled to the brim.
Empty is beautiful
There’s something waiting outside.
Empty is hopeful
Things can take root and grow.
Empty is true
It cannot pretend to be anything else.
Empty is impossible
Even if all is removed, something lurks.
Today, I emptied my thoughts
Into self-watering planters,
And transplanted seedlings,
Humming a happy song.
So beautiful my seedlings looked,
Standing tall in good, brown earth
With cool water to suck thirstily,
And golden light to pull into veins!
Humming, I poured my thoughts in
With peat moss and rich, dark,
Organic potting soil, and sang
Softly to my little seedlings.
How they grow from nothing, almost
Into these strong, sun-veined plants!
How tall they stand, how rooted,
Calmly facing the rain and winds!
I see my daughter now, the same,
Born of my once-empty womb,
Growing tall, nurtured in song,
Brought up in the light of love.
I see her, kindness in her every
Gesture, goodness in every thought,
Translating confusion into sense,
As she grows sunwards, beautiful as light,
And my heart is full.
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Tags: #DailyPrompt, #Empty, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
Jun 21, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Companion of Her Days
©June 21st, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Alone she comes into life
And alone she goes out of it.
And yet, yet, here you are,
Beside her, holding her aloft
When she falls, gasping, ready to die,
You hold her, and she holds you, too.
Smiling, loving, encouraging,
Healing with song and laughter,
Yes, and also annoying, carping,
Cavilling, gently nudging,
Reminding her of what’s needed.
Sometimes, just sometimes,
She would rather be alone
And walk the edges of everything
And look down the other side.
The valley is purple and shadowed,
The sun sets quickly there,
But the lilies and poppies are so
Very languorous, so inviting,
And she would like to rest there
Forever, inhaling oblivion.
But she knows you, her companion
Will await her, and she gets up,
And returns, whispering to the valley,
That rolls beneath her feet, and
Tries to pull her down:
“Don’t wait for me. I’ll be back.”
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Tags: #Companion, #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
Jun 21, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Summertime
©June20th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Girls in cool tank tops
And short shorts, flashing leg,
Sipping iced mochas
And strolling through
Echo-y shopping malls,
Spending money and time
And tossing their hair
In pert insouciance,
Aware of their power.
Boys in packs, talking loudly
Swearing, chewing, drinking beer
Playing ball, throwing frisbees,
Going to movies, eyeing girls,
Spitting, shouting, laughing
Immoderately, punctuating
Everything with obscenities.
Air-conditioned cars and homes,
Smoothies, lemonade, beer
Ice-cream, lobster, tacos, pizza,
Burritos, salsa, chicken tikka masala,
Coffeehouses, bars, boats,
Martha’s Vineyard, Cape Cod,
New Hampshire, Vermont,
Ah, yes, Summertime is delicious!
Burning forests in Canada
Forty-nine killed in crazed nightclub massacre,
Syrian families drowned in raging seas,
Heat waves wash over suffering cities
Farmers die in despair
While crops fail again and again
And the Inferno marches in and
Burns everything in its wake.
Women cry over dying children,
Children cry over dying mothers,
Food dries up before it reaches mouths
And when the water burns all they touch,
They know it’s Summertime –
And the living ain’t easy.
Summertime
When the forests are burning
Fish are dying, and the methane is high
And the trees breathe fumes
And the lakes are all drying up
But, hush, my loving people,
Don’t you fear!
Don’t you fear that things will burn
Because you know they will
While you sit still.
So, surrender to despair:
Give in, hold your head in your hands,
And weep.
It’s okay.
Tags: #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Summertime, #TheDailyPost
Jun 19, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Drift
©June 19th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Drifting, always drifting,
You point your catamaran
Inexorably
To Polaris.
How do you know where
You’re headed, with no
Compass, no instruments,
No notes, no rudder?
Do you have a secret plan?
An esoteric set of sticks that
Follow waves and swells,
Indicating winds and atolls?
Do you follow the secret voice
Of the sea who whispers
To you alone, as she throws
Fish and seaweed onto your boat
So you won’t starve?
Do you lie back, and gaze at
Wheeling skies and stars
Rising and setting suns and moons
And smile in secret,
Because you own the biggest
Treasure in the world?
How do you drift,
And keep drifting
Until you get to where
You always wanted to be?
And how did you get there?
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Tags: #Aimless, #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
Jun 18, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Cracked Glass
©June 18th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Crackled flat disc of blue glass
With a crack cutting through,
Sits on window ledge, sunlight
In its midnight heart,
And calms my sleep-weary eyes,
And makes an ocean in my mind.
Every morning, I gaze at it
And every night, it draws me.
I drink that blue, suck it thirstily,
Feel it flowing, slicing through
My vision, slipping sideways into dreams.
I love its beauty
And equally so, that crack
Cutting through, ruthless, deranged –
So very flawed, it is,
And so very perfect!
Don’t touch it!
You might cut yourself!
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Tags: #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Perfection, #TheDailyPost
Jun 17, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Electric Grave – Retaining Walls
©June 17th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
When the lights on the ground
Dim the lights in the sky
And the sound of deep silence
Is silenced by deep sound
The collective sounds of human
And non-human in dizzy dance
And spirals of movement
From home to work, to play,
To home to work, to play,
Under electric lights, or inside cars
Or on electric trains or inside buses
Then, the City raises her head
And looks around, a wraith of beauty
A terror to nature, razed
To the ground, except in parks
And sidewalks.
Then, the City peers in at vacant lots
And at junkyards, at the lost child
In a lonely alley, seeking home,
At the bullies beating up a teenager,
At the dog racing up and down the streets
Collarless and ownerless, lost
Helpless, frightened, distrait;
At the two Vietnamese women
Waiting patiently at the bus stop,
Clutching their plastic shopping bags,
Wearing their trauma lightly
Like a little parasol over their heads
A little stooped, talking quietly;
At the bald man with a gold chain,
A cross tattooed on his bare arms,
Standing there at the Church of St. Francis
Staring blankly at his i-Phone,
Tears pouring down his face
As he leans against the retaining wall;
At the twenty-something boy-man
Who walks his dog every day,
And whose father tells everyone that he’s sick,
Sick of his son thinking he’s some
John Lennon type or something,
With his peace, and love, and guitar-playing;
At the flutter of girls who walk, unselfconscious
And full of beauty and foolishness,
In short shorts or short skirts, giggling,
Chewing gum, and checking their phones,
While grown men lounging against walls
Check out their legs.
The City peers in at all these,
And into houses, where things happen
That should not happen,
And the City turns her head away,
And goes to see the homeless man
Under the bridge, who smiles
Toothlessly at her, and offers her
His doughnut, which she takes,
And she takes him, as well,
With her, into the land of
All the forgotten dreams, and
Forgotten souls, and discarded lightbulbs
And broken people.
She takes him there, by the hand,
Eating his doughnut,
And leaves him there.
And the City goes to bed
In the one hour between night and day,
While she dreams another life
That’s lived between her
Streets and her alleyways,
Her parks and her highways.
She sleeps, and dreams away
Her whole concrete existence,
Which vanishes in a gathering cloud
Of dust and desolation,
As the sea advances, ready to claim her
As his own.
The retaining walls start to crumble,
And the City smiles in her sleep.
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Tags: #City, #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
Jun 16, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Open!
©June 16th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
The corridor is endless
Orange flames in brackets on walls
Seem all the darker for the blackness pressing
All about you, hugging your shape
As you move silently along, holding your breath.
The silence haunts with a sibilant sound.
And the sound of your own voice
In your own head, keeping you going
With a chattering commentary,
Is deafening, and your head feels
Full to bursting with it.
You walk, and you walk,
Holding yourself like a cup
That might spill you and shatter,
If you trip over your eagerness,
If you run, if you stumble,
And you wonder whether
At the end over there, far away,
Lies the place you seek.
Strange images flash on the walls
To the left of you, and to the right.
You recognize the play,
You recognize the actors –
You will not be deterred.
You see yourself among them,
Running about, hair flying,
Laughing, crying, stumbling, falling,
You love and you hate, and you
Think you’re too late, too late, for
Everything, everything, always.
The hours tick by, the silence
Breathes down your neck,
And your terror assails you:
What if you’re wrong, and this passage,
This corridor you’ve chosen,
Is the wrong one?
What if at the end of it,
There’s nothing, and you have
To turn back, retrace your steps,
Watch yourself and others
Mock you, as you seek blindly
The thing you want?
What if you’re wrong, and were always so –
Wrong from beginning to end,
About everything you’ve ever done?
You always thought that to doubt
Was to be true, to be open to
All the possibilities, all the realities
Swirling around you, but are you right?
Is your doubt a self-indulgence?
Is it a self-flagellation?
Is it right? Is it good? Is it true?
It does not matter, you see.
It simply is. You try and you try,
And you peel away the layers
Surrounding your vision, to see clearly
You do not hide from your clear-eyed gaze,
You keep your eyes open, and you
Keep on moving towards that end
The place you seek.
And your steps lead you there,
And your fingers feel along the walls,
And you bump into a door
You know it’s a door, for it sounds
Like one, it feels like it should be one.
You draw a deep breath, summon
Your strength, steady yourself to meet
What lies beyond it, and say:
Open!
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Tags: #DailyPrompt, #Open, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
Jun 12, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
To Stand and to See
©June 12th, 2016
by Vijaya Sundaram
I stand in the midst of thought
And, my mind ripening, I marvel
At fields of golden grain before me.
Where the sun pours down generous light.
My eyes and mind rejoice at sudden
Dawning comprehension, a glimpse
Of what it means to live, and to grow,
Where life shouts out in defiance of death.
And death is but a step away, here, where
I stand among the flowers in the valley below
And forget everything in fields of poppies
And meadows where asphodel and narcissus bloom.
Planting myself firmly in the midst of all
That is, was, and will be, I do not flinch
When things are born, ripen, decay, die –
Knowledge blooms in sun, and in darkness.
I stand among all this, and know it as truth.
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Understanding
I found out to my delight that the word “understand” has its roots in Sanskrit, at least the “under” part. See the Online Etymology Dictionary, from which I quote the excerpt below:
Old English understandan “comprehend, grasp the idea of,” probably literally “stand in the midst of,” from under + standan “to stand” (see stand (v.)). If this is the meaning, the under is not the usual word meaning “beneath,” but from Old English under, from PIE *nter- “between, among” (source also of Sanskrit antar “among, between,” Latin inter “between, among,” Greek entera “intestines;” see inter-).
Tags: #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost, #Understanding
Jun 12, 2016 Free Verse, The Daily Post
Gentle Rain
©June 11th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Today, in the cool, gray light
Saturated with rain-damp
Happy to be alive and agile,
I shoveled rich, dark earth,
And cleaned out planters
With my husband and daughter.
Later, as I planted kale seeds so tiny
And celery and mustard, as small
And poblano peppers, I felt
A rush of maternal love.
I knew my small yard better now,
Having nourished and blessed
The womb of the sweet, clean soil,
Having walked its farthest edges,
Having weeded, and prepared beds,
Having watched over and watered
(With some anxiety, but mostly pleasure).
I could smell the sweetness of it all.
I saw little worms and blessed them,
And when chipmunks dashed behind stones
I loved them with a simple love.
And though all I’d done was prepare plant-beds,
Water and seed and pull up weeds,
I felt proud of the peas, the beans
The tatsoi, and lettuce, and beets all poking out,
Some growing faster, others more slowly.
Such hard work – all this growing they do!
And I was grateful to all my sweet flowers
And all the herbs that make the air sweet:
My lavender, mint, and oregano
All rich and swooning with fragrance.
To play in the dirt, and be rewarded
When things grow and reach for the light
When the air is glad with green,
And when a deep languor, a lassitude
Pours slowly down my blood-stream
Like heavy honey –
This is simplicity.
And today, I was happy for this:
This temple under a vaulting sky
Which bent over our bent forms,
As we worked, and blessed us
With a dispassionate blessing,
As gentle rain fell.
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Tags: #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Simplicity, #TheDailyPost