Oct 9, 2015 Original Poetry, Writing 201
Ode to My Beloved
(A non-Horatian Ode)
©October 9th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
You are the route I would like to traverse,
My beloved, companion of my days and life.
Your beautiful smile the lamplight
And your veins tracing your blood
To your heart, the mysterious tracks
To you.
A road so beautiful, your skin, and
Your body, that maps
All that life threw at you
And folds it into a new wrinkle!
Your voice is the breeze that wafts
Songs my way, as I set my face
You-wards.
And your love, the North Star
Guiding me home
To you.
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Tags: #Writing 201, A Non-Horatian Ode, Love poem
Oct 8, 2015 Original Poetry, Writing 201
An Ode To My Fate (Map of Fate)
(My attempt at a Horatian Ode)
©October 8th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
*Could I hold you aloft in the twilight of love
And trace out your routes with attention, to look
For where softly would land all my dreams, like the dove
From the Ark that found trees like it did in the Book,
I would do so, my Fate, my brooding playmate.
I would look for the paths that you’d lay out for me.
I would take a new route, one that does not exist.
I would fight your pale smile, all your lures, and your bait.
I would build my own boat and I’d put out to sea,
And when I arrive, it’s by you I’ll be kissed.
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This was the assignment (which I’ve condensed into the following three sentences):
Write an Ode.
Use metaphors.
Make it about a map of some sort.
Again, this is the FIRST time I’ve written an Ode, and not just that, but a Horatian Ode (about which I’d known nothing, really). I looked it up, and found that the rhyme scheme went thus: ab, ab, cde, cde. I know nothing of the syllable count of Horatian Odes. I chose my own weird 11-12 syllable count, taking care to make sure the meter sort of stayed the same.
Note: In the first stanza, I’m using “could” as in, “If I could do …. then I would.” (I’m using the subjunctive mood.)
I hope you enjoyed this attempt.
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Tags: #Fate, #Irony, #Writing 201, Horatian Ode Rhyme Scheme, Map of Fate, Ode
Oct 6, 2015 Original Poetry, Writing 201
Paean to My Brown Skin
©October 6th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Brown, like the ground, like the earth at birth, full of mystery and fragrance, lines and marks, a history of my life and vagrant self, showing arcs of flight and fall, this skin of mine holds light and sound, heft and air, and bones and flesh and I thank it for holding me, for carrying me through life with grace and kindness, letting me know of right and wrong, and sight and song, this skin I’m in takes me in my dreams to the skies, warms as I fly up high, and look around, and see the ground, like my skin, so brown, so lined, so full of dark places and lit ones, and before I alight on earth, I face sunward, and onward I go, with the brown of the ground in the skin I’m in.
And once I hated it, the brown, the dark of it, the stark of it, the looks I took, the cutting remarks of aunts and uncles butting into my dream-space, “So dark, who will marry you?” and I laughed, and scoffed at them, but their words burned within, and my skin wished to be fair, not burnt brown umber, I remember this and all else, and I remember thinking, “I wish I were fair, and I wish I were pretty, and I wish I didn’t care, and damn this self-pity, and so I stopped, and it stopped, and I was free. And the skin I’m in took the slaps and the hits, the rulers on brown knuckles from teachers who couldn’t reach me, and scathed from fights with sibling, and the scolding (much deserved) from parents much loved, and I was free, so free.
And I formed the words within, the worlds within, and my skin took on its radiance, its joyous love of itself, for this is the skin of one who loves, who lives in peace, who wants to be good, do good, find good, and I do, I will and I would. No shoulds, just wills, for the one in this skin, and I know what it means to be seen one way, or perceived in another, and so, my skin helps me choose the friends whose love I cherish, and whom I’ll hold in my heart until I perish.
This skin I’m in rejoices in the air on it, the kiss of rain, the bliss of love, the thrill of guitar and sitar, and songs from afar, brushing past so lightly, I feel them on me, all those songs, that music, the love of my beloved, the love of my child, and the furry brushing past of my sweet canine friend.
And the scent of flowers from a whiff of after-shower spray, and the scent of cardamom and clove, and ginger and geranium, all so fine, so divine, all sit on the brown of the skin I’m in.
And this skin I bless, I touch with love, this skin which went from satin to rougher cloth, this skin with dark marks that appear, this skin which sags in some places, this skin which protects and gives such delight, I will miss this skin when I die, for I will not fly with it, to the places in the sun. I will shed this skin, and I’ll mourn.
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Tags: #Love, #Writing 201, acceptance, Paean, Prose Poem, Rejoicing in the Skin I'm In, Skin
Oct 6, 2015 Original Poetry, Writing 201
(A Vain Attempt at Writing an Acrostic Poem About a Gift)
THE GIFT I LOVED
©October 6th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Today, you picked a tiny flower.
Humming like a bee,
Expectant, sweet and smiling, you stood and looked at me
Gladness came to me that hour.
Indifference: Not released.
First, disappointment came, and then,
The pleasure never ceased.
Intoxicating was the scent.
Lovely was your sweet intent, and
Out of giving came this joy, non-
Verbal, yet without a ploy, and
Expecting nothing back from me.
Delight, from seed, became a tree.
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(Okay, I SUCK at acrostic poetry!)
Oct 6, 2015 Original Poetry, Writing 201
Imagination
©October 6th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Inquire of me, “Why do you dream?”
Merely to drift and spend your life
Always looking elsewhere down the stream
Goal-free, sans work, sans strife?
Investigating that which is dark.
“Notice all that hides in the shade
Alternating ’twixt flint and spark?
Traverse those borderlands and hark!
Ineffable beings are made —
Overlords of your world and mine
Nothing moves but that’s divine!”
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Not satisfied with this, I tried another one:
Romance
©October 6th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Rapture and capture of their minds and hearts
Ouroboros that never splits apart
Matching souls that fit like hand to glove,
Astonishment thrills as they fall in love
Never-ending passion for one another
Ceaseless, boundless, (so they teach the other)
Ends in sad disarray when comes the day!
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Not satisfied with this one, I tried another one:
Sorrow
©October 6th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Sadness beyond all we know
Overwhelms, like clouds that grow
Rife with pain, regret and grief
Rue and rage that life’s so brief
Oblivion’s poppies seed our
World of pain, so full of need.
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I give up! Acrostics are harder than I thought!
Tags: #Writing 201, Acrostic Poetry, Imagination, Romance Grief, Simile
Oct 4, 2015 Original Poetry, Writing 201
Held In Thrall – Six Haiku About Screens
©October 4th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Silver screens and reels
Pixellated thoughts and dreams
Escape routes abound.
I see you staring
Eyes filled with flickering light
Mirror-self in blue.
Computer lights trap,
And movie-lights release us
We never find sleep.
Wandering in dreams
We forget to sleep, nodding
Endlessly awake.
Sunflowers turn off
Night lingers, laden with sleep
While we type, enthralled.
Screens ensnare us all —
Spiders crawl away in haste
My screen spins my trap.
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Tags: #haiku, computer screens, enthrallment, escapism, movie screens, screens, spell, trapped in pixels
Oct 3, 2015 Original Poetry
Fall Wealth: Five Faltering Haiku — written in a soporific daze.
©October 3rd, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Tender the promise
Bulbs bearing spring in their roots
The gladness of growth.
Tulips, daffodils
Tight as little fists in bags
Raise a hue and a cry.
Biting roses, fierce
Fighting, thorny, so fragrant
I swoon, and get pricked.
Echinacea blooms
So pretty, so gay, but oh,
Deadly dull their names!
Tomorrow, go forth
Seek that herald of harvest:
Autumn’s fragrant breath.
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Tags: #Autumn, #haiku, Autumn's tread, fall, Growth, Miles Davis plays "These Autumn Leaves", Wealth
Oct 2, 2015 Original Poetry, Writing 101
Image by Cheri Lucas Rowlands
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Journey to the Heart of the Web
(In the Future — My Day 20 Post)
©October 1st, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
The future is now. And now. And now!
Half-way towards my Death, I lurch.
I see her lurking in the shadows. Her breath
So cold, her eyes so gray, her face silver
Like stars stretched across space.
She is patient, so patient! Spinning,
Spanning time, hanging beads of questions
On her web, and oh! how big those questions:
Who are you?
Where are you headed?
Why toil so much?
I am silent, thinking.
I am one among many
Unique to those I love,
And to those who love me,
Forgotten by the rest.
I have poems to write,
Songs to sing, a daughter to cherish
A husband to love, a dog to adore.
I have a garden and a novel waiting
For me to nurture them into life.
I have books to read, things to put away,
Flowers to inhale, birds to feed,
Snow to play in, a planet to explore.
This is not toil, though it is work.
And it is joy.
I say to her:
I am not ready for you. Hang back,
Step away from me!
And her voice, cold as glass, says:
I am always waiting. I will welcome you.
Not yet, I say, calmly, hold back.
I have plans. I do not fear you,
But I have a life to build,
I’ll create a tower,
With storeys* made of story.
In the future, just before you entwine me in silk,
In my future, I will write,
And sing, and teach my child.
I will love my husband and child,
And take them with me on
A story-journey. We will travel
Through my stories, and theirs,
Sing our songs, grow our minds,
Forget our fears, drop our bags,
And run through the fields.
And Death is silent. Then, she says:
I shall be waiting.
Her voice is like a desert.
I think: My stories will come to me
From the spring of stories
That encircles the world,
And brings life to parched places,
And I want to dip my cup
In that water, and drink deep.
So, I face my future,
Setting my face against that quiet
Shadowed form, that voice
That rustles, my Death so elegant,
So ice-quiet.
But her voice, cold as glass, says,
I shall wait for you.
I am always waiting. I will welcome you.
Yes, wait, keep waiting, I say.
I think: In my future, I will learn better
How to tell those stories,
And sing songs, and write poems,
I will strip ego, and listen, listen
To all the people I meet,
Sans judgement, sans fear,
Sans ready response. For, in their
Voices, stories live, and in their
Hearts, grow dreams and love.
I will see their hearts, and sing those songs.
And I turn to her, and say:
When you come, O Death,
I shall sing you my song,
And tell you my story,
And we will journey together
To the heart of your web.
And we will be as one.
But not yet, not yet,
I have plans, and
There is much to learn.
And Death pauses, sighs,
Rustles her robe, turns away.
And her voice, cold as glass, whispers:
I shall wait for you.
I am always waiting. I will welcome you,
And you shall tell me your story.
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*In the US, the word storey is not much used. But those from other English-speaking countries will know what I mean.
Tags: #Death, #Journey, #Learning, #Life, #Love, Family time, fear, poems, songs, stories
Sep 12, 2015 Original Poetry, The Daily Post
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I Pledge Allegiance.”
I Pledge Allegiance — A Not-Quite Poem
©September 12th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
I pledge allegiance to the Truth,
Which is the web of this world,
And in the web of my mind.
I pledge to mesh both webs
Into whole cloth, if I can.
The Truth, to which I bow
Will not be swayed,
Though deceivers try and subvert it.
For Truth waits, hidden, but potent,
In its patience, waiting to reveal this:
That Life furthers life,
And Death furthers death,
And all life passes into death,
And there is no Beyond.
Only these linger awhile:
Our deeds, our words, our art, our music.
Our imagination, our fears and loves
Our satisfactions and lusts,
Our work and play,
Our dreams and nightmares,
Turned into music and dance,
Our futile, but lyrical railing against Death
Through monuments and songs,
And even these fade, and then,
Dust remains, until it re-forms
And takes on new shapes
And new life, or floats off into
The ether, photonically stoic.
That is all.
I pledge allegiance to this Truth.
I pledge allegiance to our Earth,
And pledge to teach those who deny her suffering,
Who claim all the while that they are doing ‘God’s will,’
While making this world a gutter and a sewer.
I pledge to not judge, but teach,
To learn and and to help,
To be true to this in word and deed.
I pledge to water and plant, and pick up
And clean, and to reduce and reuse
All that I need in my life.
So this Earth, this blue-green,
Living sphere, spinning
Through these universes,
Where broods the Numinosum —
that Dream-Drive that propels gravity
And imbues all the things which are
And which are not —
Sings a song of hope and sorrow,
And I listen to her, as she sings.
And I will sing with her.
To her, my Earth, I pledge my allegiance.
And I pledge allegiance to Love, always.
Love does conquer all, if you will let it.
Though oft-used, wrung-out and dried,
And peddled in stores in trite cards and triter treats,
And whispered in rapturous voices
Over the ecstatic exchange of rings,
And the flashing of cameras,
And extolled in places of worship,
And uttered in passing to someone you know,
Love is simply this:
Reflection upon reflection upon reflection
Of you in the Other, and the Other in you,
Mutually acknowledging, infinitely
Recursive, and all in the same dance.
Love is seeing beauty and being beauty
Loving all you observe
And observing all that you love
With equal distance and closeness,
Eyes reflecting the eyes of others
Seeing beauty, and being what you see
Knowing, whether you love those beings, or not,
They are fully and wholly themselves,
But when you love them, they gain a glow
In your vision, and perhaps, you glow for them.
For, in acknowledgement, are we magnified.
And in love, are we amplified, so that
We are as large as life itself.
And so, I pledge allegiance to Life.
See the bright gleam in the eye of the rabbit,
Or the quick flash of fear in the squirrel
When your dog leaps after it?
They are life.
Pledge allegiance to them.
I do.
See the quickening interest
Lighting up your dog’s face when it
Smells its own blood from the cut
It accidentally received at the groomer’s?
Remembering it is a carnivore,
You love its carnivorousness,
Even though you might be vegan.
It is all of life.
Pledge allegiance to all of this.
I do.
See the flash of woodpecker-wing
As it flies to and from your bird-feeder,
Or from branch to branch?
Or the flicker of a tufted titmouse,
As it swiftly swoops down to eat birdseed?
Or that bold usurper the blue-jay, as he pushes
All the rest away, lordly and larger than them,
So that you’re amused and annoyed, both?
So full of life they are, they glow.
Pledge allegiance to them —
I do.
See the children holding their parents’ hands
So full of sweetness and trust,
So sure that their parents will love and protect
And cherish and defend, and teach
And play and grow with them —
And all this, not stated, but knowing
In the marrow of their bones as an implicit right?
Pledge allegiance to love and protect them.
I do.
And then see other children’s eyes, full of pain
So full of hurt puzzlement
And betrayal and terror and hunger,
For that trust was betrayed, somehow,
Somewhere, by the grownups who were
So pledged to protect and love —
Because, war, or famine, or slavery,
Or perversion, or greed, or hatred
Tore out their hearts, and they
Changed, utterly,
And love and life were betrayed.
Pledge allegiance to these children,
Help reclaim life for them.
I do and will.
I pledge allegiance to beauty.
Inhale the scent of lilacs in the springtime
Or roses in the summer, or lotuses
When you chance upon them,
And pledge allegiance to them,
For they are beautiful.
I do.
See that beautiful smile in an old face
And the joyous smile of a baby,
And those lovely, wrinkled, aging hands
And that long-bladed grass bending in the breeze
And this sunlight slipping lazily through leaves
And the lap-lapping of water on the lake-shore
And hear the laughter of children in a park?
Pledge allegiance to them, for they are beautiful.
I do.
See the flash of dolphins leaping through air
Flashing through water,
Chasing and racing in joy?
See the slow, large elephants
And their frisky young
As they revel in water and mud?
See the lions and the tigers
Lords of this world
Sun-gleam in their eyes,
Indifferent to our adoration?
See the people flowing through
Rivers of traffic, through
Subways and turnstiles,
And schools and markets,
And wildernesses and parks,
Full of dreams and hunger
And hopes and sometimes, sorrow?
They are all beautiful.
Pledge allegiance to them.
I do.
And when the powerful strike
Down the powerless,
And the rage chokes my throat
And when the hurt rises
And blinds me,
And when an inchoate anger
Bubbles, a primordial
Lavascape, at all the injustice
And all the murders, and all
The pillaging, and all the greed
I pledge to right my part of the
World, with music,
With kindness, with patience,
With righteous action.
I pledge this, and more.
And hope for the strength
To live life in the light
Of that which is right.
See the Earth as your mother, and you will love her.
See the Air as your father, and you will listen to his song.
See your Self in the mirror, and love that Self
Smile at that Self, pledge allegiance to yourself.
Then, look outward into the world
Set your face against the darkness
And towards the sun, and see
Where go the wretched and the needy
And the hateful and the seedy,
And the slow and the speedy.
And love them all.
Look for the beauty that was,
For, tarnished metal sometimes hides its silver shine,
Sometimes, not.
Find the shine and love them.
And pledge allegiance to them.
For they are beautiful.
I do.
The earth swings too swiftly for me to bear it
With so much around me to love!
And the sands run out always,
And again, the hourglass gets tipped over,
And over and over again.
And the grains fall inevitably towards death.
But, oh how beautiful is their motion!
For, there’s inevitability and surprise,
And calm, utter calm, at the bottom of
Everything, while everything keeps moving,
Moving towards a resolution, an end.
To all these, and to all of you,
I bow, and take my turn at the dance,
And revolve, and rotate and spin,
Dizzily, ever more dizzily,
And while I do,
I pledge my allegiance
Again, and again, forevermore.
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P.S. Wrote this is a state of sleepless stupefaction. The poem didn’t come easily because of that. I’m trying to stick to a daily regimen of writing, though (but I MUST sleep early tonight).
I looked, and saw that I had done FOURTEEN edits on this — a departure from my usual dash-off and run writing, and it’s STILL not working.
Perhaps, I should just leave it alone?
And yes, I mean what I said in the poem, even if I don’t sound as poetic as I’d like to have been.
Tags: I Pledge Allegiance