Feb 16, 2014 Uncategorized
Air and River – A Love Poem
©Vijaya Sundaram
February, 14th, 2014
I love you.
And without you,
The earth is breathless,
Atmosphere absent.
With you in it,
There’s air, and air currents,
And spaces to breathe,
And spaces to feel,
And wind blowing gently
Through my hair.
With you in it,
There’s a song in my life,
Like a river flowing
Through dark and sunlit woods,
A river bearing gifts in secret,
Building a shore, building life.
Sometimes, the air currents disturb,
Sometimes, I feel the wind blow me
Off my feet, bearing me aloft.
Sometimes, the river sings shrill,
Making me long to press my ears
To still that river-song.
Sometimes, I long to rip through
That atmosphere, plunge headlong
Into another space.
Sometimes, I yearn to plunge
Myself into that river, and
Float, unresisting.
But that way lies death.
Perhaps another life, too.
But I don’t wish it, no.
For I know, I shall
Always, always, want both these,
This air to breathe, this river of song,
This love,
My love.
_____________________________________________________________________
Tags: #Original Poetry, Air and River, For my husband, Love poem, Valentine's Day Poem
Dec 7, 2013 Uncategorized
Tags: #Life, #Original Poetry, #Singing, dancing, existence, fleeting life, Triumph
May 16, 2013 Uncategorized
Prim(at)e Time
©By Vijaya Sundaram
May 16th, 2013
They watch me all the time.
I sit here, idly tearing at some leaves.
Stuff, stuff, chew, stare, look away, the sun
pouring silk and desire onto my thick pelt,
I sit, meditating.
I look back at them.
They bare their teeth in a grin.
How I’d like to leap at them!
I, lord of the leaves,
Lord of all that’s mine,
King of the sun and the sky,
Inheritor of trees and mountains,
I am helpless with rage and love.
For, somewhere inside, a tiny voice
Speaks to me. I could be those …
Two-limbed, loose-armed,
Snoutless things, with pale eyes
So far apart, and teeth that gleam
So frighteningly.
Rage, rage against this glass
This thin sheet of my prison!
Rage against this display.
Rage against this ignominy.
Rage against these weak, helpless
Grinning creatures, and hurl
Them into oblivion, down, down
The mountains of my dream-desire,
Where the mist curls gently
Around our large, thick feet,
And the Clan, of which I am leader,
Lives in warmth and all-encompassing love.
(I have never seen this, save in a dream.)
And the dream is mine, real as these
Creatures staring dumbly at me.
And yet, somewhere, love
Love for those poor, helpless
Peltless, naked, shuffling,
Dream-dead beings, with
Strange, oddly-pigmented covers on their
Pale, dead skins, carrying odd things
On their backs, and their
Squirming, ugly young ones
In their arms, fills me with a fierce pain.
How can I console them?
The thought springs, unbidden in my mind.
And just as suddenly, it is shaken off
When, my child, born of my beautiful wife,
Springs onto me, and charms me
Into play, with foolish antics.
And, before all of us amble off to another
Cooler, sheltered place, far from
Eager, prying, obscene eyes,
To loll at leisure, and lovingly groom
Each others’ fur, I gaze back calmly
At the pale, two-legged ones, thinking:
There, but for the grace of … what?, go I! …
And one of them sees me, gazes a thought-beam
At me and shakes her head, in sorrow.
Then, her young one, quite beautiful for a pale one,
Tugs at her arm, and she, lovingly,
Like me, turns to go where her child leads.
— I wonder where she goes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Freedom, #Love, #Original Poetry, Dreams, empathy, Gorillas, humans and apes, primates, sorrow, zoo
Apr 26, 2013 Uncategorized
Listening to Poetry
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 26th, 2013
The children listen, in a spell
As the words of the poem we
Read aloud together in class,
Unreel and hook them, unawares.
Poetry, that smiling looter
That thief of all cynical hearts
That bandit of their mundane minds
Captures them, binds them all, tightly.
For a moment, cynicism
Is suspended, pushed, held at bay
By words, written quite long ago
Among differently moulded minds.
Then, mundane memory floods back
And, unwilling to be found out,
They replace their masks and move on
To the next silly or sublime sphere.
If I could capture their quiet
Concentration, their absorption,
I’d create an essential oil
With which to make a sweet perfume.
I’d keep it at my lonely desk
Spray it into the air near me,
And inhale deeply when sudden
Unexpected despair grabs me.
I’d forget my ache, then, and smile
I’d remind myself that this is
Why I love to teach and why I stay:
Concentration concentrated,
The shared delight, the rich shaping
Of our mutual enjoyment:
Pleasure distilled and stoppered in time
And fragrant in our memory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, Concentration, Pleasure in poetry, students and teacher, Teaching and Learning, Teaching Poetry, Writing
Apr 21, 2013 Uncategorized
Adam
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 21st, 2013
The world tilts dizzily
And I lie here, with you waiting
For me to speak.
My tongue is curled
I’m on the edge of things.
On the edge of my life on this
Planet which took so much
And gave so much
And from which I got
The rich milk of my
Soul’s sustenance.
And which curdled in my stomach.
For I allowed myself
To taste of the fruit
Of evil. I was tempted.
And you were loyal.
I offered it to you,
Then blamed you for it all.
And I ask your forgiveness
For all that I did
For all that I did not do
For all that I said
For all that I did not say
For all that I’ve been
And for all that I was not.
For through me, not you
Came this sorrow, this rage
You tried to put it back,
But one cannot ever undo
Only do.
Forgive me,
For I have sinned.
And my sin is beyond name
And beyond recall
And before memory
And after my death.
And if I could have
Another chance, I would take it.
But now, I shall fade
Forever away, into the mists
Of memory, and no one will
Care to name me
Or what I did.
But I will prevail,
And you will sorrow.
I’m sorry.
~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, Adam to Eve, Evil, Fruit, The Apology
Apr 17, 2013 Uncategorized
Spring, in Pigtails
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 17th, 2013
The sun shone, jubilant, joyous, gold.
The grass was new-born, bursting forth
Like song from pursed, pinched lips.
The sky shone cold-blue, flooded with warmth
The children played on slide and swing.
I sat and watched my little girl
Racing about, her beauty breaking through
Like Spring between the cracks in the
Winter-clutched sidewalks.
Italian ice, lemon and watermelon,
Cold water chasing it down,
Brought sweetness and surprise.
Flinging herself into the air,
Her Groovy Girl Doll(Nicole)’s
Sheer joie de vivre, matched
My little girl’s, her pigtails flying.
And these:
My pink and blue-clad child,
Flying about, glee-filled, singing.
Reminding me that this is life.
Dogs surging about, teenagers skipping
Parents calling, sunshine dripping
Down on my upturned face.
And for a moment, grief and rage
Scudded away, clouds driven by sun
Into a corner of the sky.
And in that moment, peace bloomed
And momentary joys took root.
Of these, are our memories made.
Upon these, are our lives built.
Today was beautiful,
And I was glad.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Daughter, #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, #Spring, Happiness, Italian Ice, Joie de Vivre, Playground, sunshine
Apr 15, 2013 Uncategorized
Boston, In Grief
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 15th, 2013
When fear develops teeth and claws
And opens wide its angry jaws
Can people turn around and fight
And slay that Grendel with our might?
Do people have the time to teach
Can love expand to hatred’s reach?
Go tell that to the ones who died.
Go tell their families that you tried
To stop the fear, to stamp out hate
Extend a hand, help grief abate.
But while we rage amidst our grief,
And seek to find the hateful thief
Of life and freedom and of peace
We know we need to find release.
Revenge is bitter, hate is cold.
We seek in lead that which is gold
Alas! What can we try to do
But face our grief, and start anew?
~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, Boston, grief, marathon, Starting anew, tragedy
Apr 9, 2013 Uncategorized
Mercy-Crumbs
[Fourth Poem-Response to “Pigeon” by Anthony Green]
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 9, 2013
Pigeon on the platform
Man on the train.
Sometimes, crumbs of mercy
Give life again.
Small pigeon at his human feet
His crumbs of mercy for the bird
A man, at gunpoint with the guards
A woman gives hope with a word
Each little crumb feeds living souls
Each little crumb gives back to life
Each little crumb furthers a goal
Each little crumb reduces strife.
A simple act, a simple deed
So easy, yet so very hard
For those who do not choose to feel.
And only some dare take that chance.
A simple act saved this man’s life
So simple, yet so very strong
Her kindness was that upon which
His life hinged; she set right that wrong.
The man saw her, and said no word
His thanked her with his eyes so mute
And filled with something that was stirred
Within, and rich with gratitude.
Pigeon on the platform
Man on the train.
Sometimes, crumbs of mercy
Give life again.
Tags: #Hope, #Life, #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, Goodness, Gratitude, Mercy, poem-response to "Pigeons" by Anthony Green
Apr 9, 2013 Uncategorized
This is my second Poem-Response to “Pigeon” (film by Anthony Green)
Slingshot
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 9th, 2013
Poor, poor bird,
Alone in the world
At the mercy of boys
With slingshots.
Just there,
Nowhere else to go
Nothing else to do
But just be and peck
At crumbs of mercy
Tossed its way.
Every crumb matters
Every gesture burns
As a brand in the dark.
Every act of goodness
Lasts an eternity.
Though the cruel day
Comes, hell-bent on
Exposure and betrayal,
Each kindness leaves
A trace.
And the bird survives for
Another day, another hour.
Though cruelty
Dogs its steps.
Every kindness brings
Life.
Every saving brings
Hope.
Every crumb brings
Fullness.
And somewhere,
In another world
In another time,
Those traces will come
To live and glow
Through eternity.
And life will take wing
In the light of peace.
And only goodness will
People that world, with
No slingshots in sight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Hope, #kindness, #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, #Peace, fullness, Saving, Slingshot
Apr 8, 2013 Uncategorized
Boot-Foot and Bug
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 8th, 2013
Emotion comes and goes
A storm that seems so strong
Once it’s over, it’s done.
I know it, but do they?
I dislike emotion.
An annoyance it is,
A silly distraction,
A pointless indulgence.
All that bursting, bleeding
Self-serving sentiment,
A foolish, maudlin thought
That the world really cares.
Somewhere a bug dies in
Terrible pain killed by
A monstrous boot-foot which
Does not care or know it.
Better to just crawl off
Fly away, flee away
Right out of that boot-foot.
Avoid, avoid that foot!
~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~
P.S. This is all I could come up with today. No wise words, no deep-fried descriptions, no universal truths, no lush language. Today is Spartan fare. That’s all, folks!
Tags: #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, Bug, Emotion, Foot, Indulgence, Passing Storms, Sentiment