May 27, 2016 Original Poetry, The Daily Post, Uncategorized
Carping about Carpe Diem (Countless)
(Or, A Whinging about Procrastination and Ennui)
©May 27th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Countless hours go by
And countless days slog along
And countless minutes flow by
And countless seconds jog along.
And still, I don’t seize them!
If I did, I’d have to release them,
And I hate holding time hostage,
Hate letting go of them, condemned
To fritter away the countless hours –
The hours of life after life that I live,
Repeating myself, cell by tired cell
Recreating it all, so boring, so tedious!
Waiting for an end to all this unaccountable
Counting of the minutes the hours, the days,
The years, the millennia of what passes
For this life, when it could be done with
One stroke
Of the pen,
Or one slit
Of the pen-knife!
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P.S. Please don’t be alarmed. This was just a post, nothing more.
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Countless
Tags: #Countless, #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
May 26, 2016 Friday Fictioneers, Original Flash Fiction, Uncategorized
Dream a Dream of Love
May 26th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
As the waves sweep towards these rocks where he stands, he dreams.
He is holding his beloved in his arms, she of the gossamer hair and glimmering eyes, of the breath sweet as wildflowers, she of the voice like the sighing sea-breeze, of the laughter that broke upon his heart, like the waves breaking upon these rocks.
He dreams she loved him and he loved her back, but in time, his heart turned hard.
When he left, she walked into the sea.
Dreaming, he mourns, as the water surges around him.
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With thanks to our beloved Fairy Blog-Mother, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and for today’s beautiful photo-prompt.
Tags: #Dream, #FridayFictioneers, #Love, #Original 100-word Flash Fiction based on a photo-prompt, #Sea
May 25, 2016 Daily Life, Ramblings and Musings, Uncategorized
Because I was, so to speak, knee-deep (not really, but it sounds better that way) in cow manure and compost and nice, fragrant earth, preparing beds for planting roses on one side, and planting peas and carrot seed in prepared beds on the other side of our hilly front yard. Last week, I’d planted bush beans and pole-beans in two prepared beds, but things got in the way, and I didn’t get to do more.
Preparing beds for planting vegetables is more back-breaking work than I’d realized. I mean I’ve done it only a few times before (my husband did it most of the time while I was teaching in school), and I’d forgotten how hard it is to turn the earth, to hoe and dig, and pull up deep-rooted weeds that spread under the top beds and add good, organic compost.
Until this year, I’ve tended to water, weed and harvest things from our garden , but hadn’t done the other hard work that is so pleasurable to do, and also so time-consuming. And of course, I planted lots of bulbs and small flowering plants and such in the fall, but somehow, that didn’t make me feel as tired as this work did (and that was tiring enough!)
This year, the garden is my responsibility from start to finish, it seems to me.
I love it.
This is my long explanation for why I haven’t done any real writing today. Well, another added reason was that I spent much of last night dealing with Holly, who had become violently sick from her vaccinations yesterday. After four or five hours of broken sleep, lots of cleanup and disinfecting, tending to sick dog, reassuring her, doing laundry, and so on, I was a wreck this morning. Then, the vet called (we’d left a message yesterday night), and said we could come in with Holly and have her looked at at 10:30 a.m.
I drove my poor, dehydrated darling to the vet, where I found she’d lost a whole pound in a single night. They gave her fluids, gave her anti-nausea meds, and she came home quite cheerfully. All fine for the rest of the day. I made her squishy rice with potato and apple, and added chicken broth to it. She ate like one starved. Later, she ate rice with yogurt at three separate times. I think she’s totally back to normal, although she did not touch her dry dog-food. The amount of worry and stress that my sick dog can generate in me surprises me. I fretted over her as if she were a baby of mine (well, she is).
Then came all that gardening I mentioned above. The sun beat down on me today, and I felt somewhat light-headed from all the work, the heat, the lack of sleep, and from my earlier worry about my dog. A big jar of lemonade, and a watermelon popsicle, and a long, soothing shower later, I was somewhat restored.
After that, we had to get ready to go and fete my husband’s brother’s son (okay, our nephew) who had just graduated from college. My father-in-law and step mom-in-law had generously offered to host us all to celebrate our nephew’s graduation. There were ten of us at the venue (my family, my brother-in-law’s family, my nephew’s maternal grandmother, and my father-in-law and his wife). It was a lovely evening, despite a long wait outside the restaurant, because all of us showed up a little late, and our table was taken. Still, it afforded us time to chat and be heard, which was harder once we were inside the restaurant. The food was good, and we managed to hear each other above the din. After a nice evening, we headed home to our ecstatic dog.
Once home, we hung out and listened to John Lee Hooker, Howlin’ Wolf and others singing the blues. Then, we sang 16th century madrigals as we do almost every night, and sent our daughter off to bed.
I still have chores, so many chores. I am tired.
But happy.
All is well.
I have nothing profound to say, for I’m profoundly tired.
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Tags: #DogWoes, #Family, #Gardening, #Graduation
May 9, 2016 Uncategorized
Dear Readers,
I want to thank all of you who visit my blog, and read what I write. It would mean a lot to me if, upon reading my work and liking what you read, you take a minute to click on “like,” and click on the post title to leave a comment. (And of course, if you don’t like something, you don’t need to press “like”, but if you do appreciate something, it’s nice for me to hear from you!)
I’d like to know who my mystery readers are, and thank you (and if I’m not already following you, to be able to visit your blogs).
With warm wishes and gratitude,
~Dreamer of Dreams
(Vijaya)
Apr 29, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post, Uncategorized
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Curve
From a Lover to A Beloved
©April 29th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
The curve of your ears
The curve of your eyes
The curve of your smile
The curve of your frown
The curve of your back
The curve of your neck
The curve of your mind
The curve of your life
Are the shell of you,
The shape of you,
The song of you,
The home of you.
And you, my love,
Make me smile,
Make me want to curl up
And nestle against the shell
Of you, and feel the
Deep, blue whooshing
Of the waves of the
Sea where you dwell
In secret, away from
The prying eyes
Of a busy world.
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Tags: #Curve, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost, #TheDailyPrompt
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.
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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 20, 2016 Friday Fictioneers, Original Short Story, Uncategorized
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Fairy tale? Demon-Tale!
Demon-Town
©April 20th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I can’t take anymore, sighed Hans.
He’d been walking the fence for twenty minutes, trying to find a gap. THEY had segregated him, his family, and town, for unknown reasons.
Psst! came a voice from a tree beyond the fence.
Peering out, a young demon grinned wickedly, and said, Sell me your soul; I’ll let you all go free.
“Why?” asked Hans, incredulous.
I’m not paid enough for this. I need a soul. I’m hungry. Yours looks delicious.
Hans thought, If this is a hallucination, so be it.
By the time he breathed, “Okay,” the maw of darkness engulfed him.
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Thanks, always, to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, Fairy Blog-Mother, powerful story-weaver, and of Friday Fictioneers, and to Madison Woods (whose url I could not find) for the photo-prompt.
P.S. I wanted to write something about the Holocaust, but since Rochelle already wrote one, I thought, Head to fantasy world!
P.P.S. I’ll be travelling by car later this evening (to Toronto), and will not be able to visit any sites until tomorrow evening (we’re stopping on the way). Running around, getting things ready. I look forward to reading everyone’s stories.
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
Apr 11, 2016 NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry, The Daily Post, Uncategorized
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Newspaper
Newspaper Clippings – A Soup
©April 11th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Bring me some news
Some bad, some good!
And bring me a big pot.
If you would.
Fetch me some shears.
These won’t hurt.
Pour in some water,
Toss in some dirt,
Add plenty of bricks
Now, stir them well.
And here’s a trick.
To make things swell:
Some ghastly gossip
Celebrity quips
Political tracts
And racist acts
Some silly sports news
Education blues
Some weather reports
International courts
Some who bring glory
With amazing stories.
Some pandering to banks
The privilege of rank
Some comics for laughs
And some lifestyle gaffes.
Now snip them up
And clip them up
And toss them in
From a giant bin.
Then, boil them up
And stir them round
The scum will rise
The dregs will drown.
Strain them through
A cheesecloth blue
Now, taste the soup
And then, recoup.
For your job’s done
And you can rest.
For coffee, toast,
And books are best.
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Also, cross-posting it to NaPoWriMo
Tags: #Clippings, #Newspaper, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Soup, #The Daily Prompt, #TheDailyPost
Apr 7, 2016 NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry, Uncategorized
Fruit – A Poem about Mad Desire
©April 6th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
What draws me isn’t just the actual fruit
You understand.
No, it’s the thought of fruit,
Its connotation, its symbolism
Its scents twining their arms about me,
Its hidden erotic profiles.
What draws me is all that is around it.
Yes, it’s the nature of fruit
To entice, to shame, to delight
To condone, to console, to
Stimulate, to make one swoon
With desire and dreaming-want.
What draws me is the symmetry
The perfection of an apple, where
Enticement and danger embrace,
And a sorry knowledge comes
With every bite – the knowledge
That this too, will end.
It’s the clustering of grapes
The mad, symmetric glistening
Globes of tight flesh encased in
Purple, or green, or red skin
That draws me in, like a humming
Bee which, though sated with juice
And nectar, and sunlight and pleasure,
Still gets pulled in by mere desire.
Its the bright, cheerful sunlit
Blips of orange packed so tightly
Into a globe, surrounded by an
Unwelcoming, reluctant, tangy
Skin, dissuading mere temporaries
From opening up its secrets.
Those are for me, only me.
And figs so purple-achy, and melons so round,
And dates, dense with brown sweetness
And jackfruit poky outside, succulent within,
And Indian jamuns, so tart and violet
And peaches, squishy and laden with juice
And plums the same, but deeper, darker,
And clementines, flirty sun-cousins to oranges,
And green, uncertain pears, both raw and ripe,
And summer berries and fall berries,
Red and blue, and crimson in hue,
Full of nectar, full of welcoming.
And every fruit that ever guarded
Its progeny jealously, possessively,
Yields up its secrets to me,
The lover at the heart of it all.
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From the prompt for NaPoWriMo Day 6:
Today, I challenge you to write a poem about food. This could be a poem about a particular food, or about your relationship to food in general. Or it could simply be a poem relating an incident that involves food …
Tags: #FoodPoem, #FruitPoem, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram