Nov 13, 2017 Original Poetry, Uncategorized
Dampnation
©November 13th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Pearl-gray skies drop down.
See a world saying goodbye.
Layers peel away.
It is always thus.
Rain-dark afternoons beat wings
Yearning for lift-off.
Lift-off cannot be
With damp thinking in damp skies
Fold your wings. Go home.
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Nov 12, 2017 Original Poetry
Flight-Route*
(Five Haiku)
©November 12th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Birds fly south by rote
A route forged and forced by time –
Still, we find meaning.
And in those meanings
We etch those pathways in gold,
And the air quivers.
It matters not that
Life is leaves whirling in dust –
There’s strange beauty there.
It matters little
If we’re remembered, or not –
Our ghosts’ echoes ring.
Work, play, love and lust
Beat their futile wings against
Unseen glass. Just laugh.
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*In response to Three Sisters by Anton Chekhov.
Tags: #haiku, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #PoeticResponsetoThreeSistersbyAntonChekhov
Nov 11, 2017 Original Poetry
Life-Force
©November 11, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
She went shopping with me
Just to see people and things,
To escape the old and infirm
Who pushed their walkers
Around the halls and sitting room.
She went shopping with me
And negated her ninety-four years.
The life-force strong within,
She bought herself underwear
And mittens, and chocolate.
Flirted with the young cashier.
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Nov 10, 2017 Original Poetry
Nestling
©November 11th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
When I lift up my eyes, and spread
My arms out wide, then hug the air,
Wrapping its coldness close, so close
I know I’m holding all of life.
Billions of people, animals
Enclosed here, nestling in my arms.
All of the past, coldly resting
In this present, aching for warmth.
I hold them close, because, one day,
I shall be one with them, and one
With the creature who comes after
I’m gone, shuddering in sunlight.
And we will look up, all of us,
And ask to be fed, clamoring
In concert, till the mother bird
Returns, and we’ll be warmed again.
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Nov 10, 2017 Original Poetry
Blind Spot
©November 10th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
I am my own blind spot
Right in the middle
Of mind and matter.
And it matters
That I cannot see what
I see, because of all
I think I see. This I mind.
I mind very much.
I mind very much.
Things come up from the side
And sneak up from before.
And I shake my head,
Relieved at swerving
Just in time.
And when that collision
Does happen,
When I stop to think
In mid-drive, pausing for
Directions, taking note,
Will something come at me
From behind? Will I survive?
Or, when I’m in mid-walk,
Will I walk straight into
That thing that’s been
Waiting patiently on the
Sidewalk where I tread, as I
Read the skies, scan
The air, take the mood
Of the winds,
Unaware of that quiet, patient,
Deadly thing that’s been there
Since the beginning?
And will I adjust my vision?
Will I look around more,
And avoid doing damage,
Or, will I simply sit down,
And refuse to keep moving?
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Nov 9, 2017 Original Poetry
It Isn’t
©November 9th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
It isn’t that I don’t love life –
Even if sometimes it feels that way,
It is that I don’t hate death.
It isn’t that I don’t want things –
It is that I want them in the moment,
It is that I want them indifferently.
It isn’t that music calls to me
It is that it calls from within,
All the time, all the time,
And sometimes, I don’t listen.
It isn’t that I don’t love you
And you, and you, and you.
I do, I do – it is that I love life.
It isn’t that I don’t love life enough –
It is that I love something more,
Something more than life.
I want to swallow the stars
Like a giant dragon
Swallowing gemstones.
I want to birth planets
And watch them glow,
Watch them grow old
And cold.
I want to spin and spiral
Into cold, vast spaces,
And die and die again,
And laugh hugely while
The universe plunges into me,
While I plunge into it,
Struggling and pulling each other
All the way through chaos,
To form a perfect, pulsating,
Diamond-hard point of light
And blink out.
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Nov 9, 2017 Original Poetry
Softly, softly
©November 9th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Come around the corner now,
Softly, softly.
Stop here, lest your feet stir up
Dust into animacy.
Take your time, and gently tread
Softly, softly.
Look around, and smell the air,
Settling quietly on your form.
Look around, and note it all
Softly, softly
People, places, songs and things,
Settling swiftly in your life.
Note them all, and keep them close
Softly, softly.
Store them up, and keep them safe,
Till you reach the other side.
As you fade quickly away,
As you fade quickly away,
Softly, sofly,
Sing of love and float it back
Round that corner whence you came.
Softly, softly.
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Nov 8, 2017 Original Poetry
Flesh and Bone
©November 8th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
©November 8th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
And slowly, we grow older.
Our flesh grows heavy with care,
And eyes prop themselves open
With an effort (invisible
Fingers stretching them wide),
And our bones whisper at night, keep
Rustling dryly while flesh sleeps.
Once at home with the spirits,
Now, we wave feebly at them.
Willing them closer, hoping
For escape, evanescence.
Everything is thin, the veil,
Thinner, as we see through all.
The senses prevail, we fall.
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Oct 14, 2017 Original Poetry
Hope is a Dog
©October 14th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Hope is not “the thing with feathers
That perches in your soul.”
Nor is Hope a fluttering thing
At the bottom of a jar.
Hope is the forlorn Dog
Awaiting the return
Of those who’ve gone away
Into the vast Unknown.
Hope is the Waiting Dog
Whose only job is this:
Round up her family
And keep them safely home.
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Tags: #HopeisaDog, #Original Poem, #Original Poetry by Vijaya Sundaram
Oct 13, 2017 Original Poetry
Autumnal Fading
©October 13th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Cold air settles like a sigh
Of expectations met.
The earth swings around
Once more towards winter
And leaves begin their downward
Journey into death.
There are pumpkins, yes,
And pies and children’s pleasure in
Scary masks and horror and gore.
And cute princesses, Harry Potters,
Witches and butterflies, bats, cats,
But all I want is to be
Alone, alone, alone,
Fluttering downward, blazing gold,
Red, yellow, holding
Sunlight in my veins, while
I crunch into a million bits of dust.
Sorry I don’t meet your expectations.
Perhaps, I am not American enough.
I will be, though, for my child.
For, on that day, I shall summon
Pleasure in such things, like a witch
Summoning a spirit.
After that, when the wheel turns,
I will flutter down, or float away.
But I promise to return when the earth
Turns again.
I shall return.
I promise.
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Tags: #Autumn, #Halloween Tirade, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram