Apr 27, 2016 Original Poetry, Senryu, The Daily Post

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:  Crossroads

When the Crossroads Come – 14 Senryu
(An Offering to Hecate)
©April27th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

When the crossroads come
And you’re standing still, so still
Let them pass, softly.

When the crossroads come
And you see Her there, bow down.
Ask her for a gift.

Watch the clouds flow by.
The moon hides her pale, wan face.
Darkly, stars shiver.

Look into my past!
Guide me to my destiny
Help me choose it well.

Offer her your hand
Offer her your heart in trust
Bow to her wisdom.

She will study you.
She’ll gaze into your future
With a cryptic look.

Look into my past!
Guide me to my destiny
Help me choose it well.

And when the stars hide,
When a low moon wails so pale
She will decree it.

Thank her with a gift
Ask for your life in return
You have much to do.

Look into my past!
Guide me to my destiny
Help me choose it well!

Her pole-cat will sing,
Her wolf-dog, in warning, howl.
She’ll see your future.

And she’ll sigh softly
There are things she cannot change,
Though she’ll try to bend.

Look into my past!
Guide me to my destiny
Help me choose it well.

So, when crossroads come
Stand so still, and tall until
They fade into mist.

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Tags: #Crossroads, #Hecate, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost, #TheDailyPrompt

Apr 23, 2016 Original Poetry, Senryu, The Daily Post

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Disappointment

Do I Disappoint?
(Three Light-Hearted Senryu)
©April 23rd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

Do I disappoint?
Asks the sunflower of the sun –
Gentle light rains down.

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Do I disappoint?
Asks the child of her mother
(Love’s cocoon enfolds).

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Do I disappoint?
Asks a dog in mild disgrace –
Grinning tail melts stone.

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Tags: #Disappointment, #Original Poetry by Vijaya Sundaram, #TheDailyPost, #TheDailyPrompt

Apr 21, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Locked

Locked Wor(l)ds
©April 21st, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

In a room so far away
A lady lives a black dream,
Locked away from
Everyone she ever loved.

Cold she is, and full of dread
For, soon one day,
She’ll be dead to all,
And no one will ever
Know that she lived,
And loved, and danced
And sang, and made
A whole world come alive
Painting by painting,
Dance by dance,
Song by song,
Word by word.

The earth grew things
Under her words, and
Animals took shape
And so did birds,
Titans and gods walked,
And people stood upright.
Rivers flowed silver-clear.
Oceans grew whales,
And fish and lobsters,
And the sky grew birds,
And the land grew trees,
And the trees grew people.

And the people saw her,
Mocked and teased her,
Saw her fright, laughed
In fierce delight,
And sent her far, far
From them in loathing.

Now, disease grew
Death came, clothing the land
In Stygian gloom.
Rivers flowed blood-red
And brooks flowed mud-brown
Songs of joy soon turned to
Songs of sorrow, while
People paddled barges of dirges
Through water-hyacinth-clogged
Lakes, through rivers that
Slowed with time, which swung
This way and that, a pendulum
Between one world and the next.

For still, she made worlds,
Still she sang – her words were daggers
A piercing blade, full of rage,
Blind fury, love thwarted.

Staging a coup, her people
Found her, flung her in a tower
A star leaned down, single and cold
And a moon cut away a sliver
Of itself day after day – her moon,
Her star, her world, her doom.

And here she lies,
Alone, outcast, the Mother
Of all, the Maker of beasts,
The Giver of all things
Mutely, she stares
Into the glaring darkness
Of her locked room,
Blind with sadness.

Now, slowly, slowly, in a
Dream, she takes the key
(For she made it), kisses it,
Flings it into the
Waiting arms of night,
And slowly, slowly
She unmakes herself,
Taking her locked tower,
The people, the animals,
The fish and whales,
The birds, the rivers and brooks,
The star and moon,
Disease and death, barges and dirges
Hyacinth-clogged rivers,
Songs and dances, and words,
As she vanishes into a dream.

And somewhere, the key
Floats along on a stream
Of stars, far, far away.

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.

Tags: #Locked, #NewFairyTale, #NewMyth, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost, #TheDailyPrompt

Apr 21, 2016 Original Poetry, Senryu, The Daily Post

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:   Fog

Fog Rising
©April 21st, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

Curtain lifts with sun:
Fog rises and dissipates
Coffee clears my head.

Gentle words soothe me
Mist of despair vanishes
Thank you for your love.

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Tags: #Fog, #Metaphorical poem, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost, #TheDailyPrompt

Apr 19, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Fake

Fake-itude!
©April 19th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

How lovely to see you!
You don’t look a day older
(Despite the wrinkles, that is).
Such gorgeous ladies!
Fabulous beauties, all of you!
(Fabulous is for fifty-year olds!)

Oh, we must meet again, soon!
Where’d you get that dress?
It’s beautiful!  So … colorful!
(I must make a note of it,
So I can avoid it.)

Call me, okay?
It’s been too long!
Will do, surely!
We have to get together!
I’ll call you, okay?
(In your dreams!)

You’re the best!
Isn’t she amazing?
She’s so talented,
So accomplished!
(So full of herself –
Wish she’d stop showing off!)

Hey man, you’ll be missed.
The place won’t be the same.
Let’s have coffee sometime.
Yes, sometime.
(In the next century!)

Let’s play some music sometime
Hang out, chill, you know?
Imbibe some, shoot the breeze,
Like the old days, man!
Sure, man!  I’ll call you.
It’ll be like old times.

And how are you doing today, Miss?
(Like I care – wish you’d all go away!)
What’ll it be?  Mochaccino? With skim?
Perfect!  Nice choice, if I may say so.
No way?  Chai with soy?
My favorite –  you’ve got good taste!!
(If I taste it, I’ll puke –
These millennials are weird!)

Have a lovely day!
(And leave me alone!)
Thank you so much!
I wonder where you come from
India?  How wonderful!
(I hope you’ll go back there –
Stupid people taking over our jobs
Make Amewica gweat again!)

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P.S. I don’t love this poem, but I was hard-pressed to write about fake things.  It’s okay if you hate it.  Just don’t fake it!  🙂

Tags: #Fake, #Humor, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #sarcastic poem, #TheDailyPost, #TheDailyPrompt

Apr 18, 2016 Original Poetry, Tanka, The Daily Post

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Closet

Closet in Two Tanka
©April 18th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

Musty closet calls
Things tumble out, rumpled dreams
Time to air things out.
Here’s an old dream – toss it out.
This one’s soft, so wear it now.

Open doors, comb through
Pick this concept, try it on!
Where’d I get that hat?
Try this on for size right now
When things fit, stroll out in them.

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Tags: #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost, #TheDailyPrompt

Apr 17, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:  Disaster

No Words for This
©April 17th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

When the train pulled
Black and hateful and loud –
Loud as all of India –
Into that teeming station,
With thousands pushing,
Pummeling, yelling, crowding,
Cursing, shouting, shoving,
Grunting, hitting, rushing,
Punching, running, stumbling
Into that still moving train,
As it pulled into the platform,
And you slipped and fell,
And your leg was trapped
Between the train and the
Unrelenting platform, between
Hateful concrete, steel and stone,
You couldn’t cry out –
The pain was too large
For sound, too sudden
For speech, too cruel
For expression.

When you lay bleeding on the platform –
You leg hanging by a thread,
You were far from home,
And someone, a kind soul,
Took sense from your panting voice
Your fading consciousness,
And called home, four hours away,
To tell your wife, –
It was a cataclysm.

Railway porters, quick as fire,
Bore you away on a stretcher,
Tenderly like a mother with new babe,
Impelled by love and distress,
To the nearby hospital
And saved your life.

And when the news of all this
Came floating on the tide to me,
I lost my footing, slipped to the floor.
A little empty space
Opened up inside my stomach,
As if a universe had been carved away
And only dark matter remained.

And we thought you might die,
But you didn’t.
Laughing with deep sadness,
Making terrible puns,
Jokes in the worst taste,
You recovered, and ate well.
And we sighed, and prepared
To help you face a life
With one leg.
And my mother nurtured you
And kept you close, and
Tended to you, setting aside sadness –
Love in her every move.

And you lived on
For fifteen more years,
Even as cancer grew in you
From blood transfusions
Gone hideously awry.

It’s not fair! I yelled to the skies,
Not fair!
You died after cruel pain
Crucified your body,
And my mother faced
Life alone, mute and stoic,
Aching and struck silent
By unending sorrow.

There are no words
For this.

Disaster?

I spit in its face.

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Tags: #Disaster, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #RailwayAccident, #TheDailyPost, #TheDailyPrompt

Apr 15, 2016 Ramblings and Musings, The Daily Post

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:  Snap

Snap – A COMPLETELY Uninspired Litany of Complaints (NOT a poem!)
©April 15th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

I don’t like it when people snap at me.

I dislike it more when I snap at them.

I don’t like to snap to attention.

I detest calling photographs “snaps.”

I don’t trust anything which is a “snap” to make.

I’m sad for those who are on SNAPs

I hate it when people say, “Oh, SNAP!”

I loathe card games, especially ones called “Snap.”

And I don’t tolerate snaps on clothing.

When someone says, “Snap out of it,”

I feel bad – and worse when I say it.

And when I snipe about snaps, I cannot stand it.

And now, I’m off to take a snap – sorry, nap!

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Tags: #A Litany of Complaints, #Daily Prompt, #Snap, #TheDailyPost

Apr 14, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Suitcase

Suitcase-Blood
©April 14th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

Pack your suitcase (tattered, but good)
Sling your instrument over your shoulder,
Look around quietly,
Take the measure of things,
And say,
“Bye, then!”
And leave.

The road unfurls before you,
The horizon pearl-pink.
You spend your time
Forgetting your life,
As you walk down, then up that road,
Towards that pale, glimmering
Line between here and there.

 And you forget all the way
Down the road to there.
Your suitcase, which held everything,
Starts slipping from your grasp.
When you trip beyond the horizon,
You let it fall open.
Everything spills on the road,
Everything you own, or held dear.

And that lute you held
So close to your heart
Falls from your grasp, too,
And lands, with a crack,
Then splits wide open,
Like a pomegranate, or a heart.

You gasp, and grasp a passing
Thought to keep from drowning,
And say, to the waiting air,
“Perhaps, I don’t want to leave,
After all.
This is my life, still. 
It is good.  It was good.
It was beautiful.
And so much music
Filled my days.”

And you stop there,
Stand and remember
All the things you forgot.
And your suitcase, still open
Bleeds upon the pavement.
And the lute is mute like a stone.
But you leave, silent and sore,
Without a backward glance.

Somewhere, you hear a string
Twanging.

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Submitting to both The Daily Post, and to NaPoWriMo

Tags: #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Suitcase, #The Daily Prompt, #TheDailyPost

Apr 13, 2016 Light verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post, Uncategorized

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Giggle

Giggle
©April 13th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

I do not giggle any more.
It causes me some pain
For I have graduated from
Teenagerhood to Brain.

To keep a brain, we all agree
We cannot laugh and titter
We have to hold our breath and moan
In sotto voces bitter.

Giggling’s for the younger set
For those who live their lives
Without a hint of future stress
Without a hint of strife.

But when my back is turned, I find
I snicker and I sneeze,
And then, to my amazement
I giggle, if you please!

I catch myself, and look askance
At giggles which escape
And scold them as they leave my throat
And then, I stand and gape.

Before me stands a jester pied
All dressed in motley clothes
And solemnly he bows to me
And then, around me, flows

He flows like water, and like wind
He smiles and takes my hand,
And dances with me laughingly,
And then, I understand.

We laugh aloud in midnight mirth
We chuckle all night long,
And soon, before the break of day
My giggles become songs.

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Tags: #Daily Prompt, #Giggle, #LightVerse, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost