Oct 14, 2015 Original Poetry, Writing 201
Elegy for a Dying Earth
(Day 8: Flavor, Elegy, Enumeratio)
©October 15th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
I fear the earth has come to reap what we have sown
In haste, we sowed the breeze, and reaped this hateful wind
And through this storm, we’ll miss those things we loved so well
The rain, the snow, the flowers, this land– for we have sinned.
Not sins against a God, or gods, or goddesses
But sins against the likes of us, of you and me,
Against our children full of confusion and hurt
To whom we give our ravaged earth, and dying seas.
I’ll miss the scent of rain on dusty earth, the scent
Of budding rose, and jasmine sweet, and marigold.
We’ll see the ponds go dry in summer months, and geese
That leave in droves, will seek new lands, and mourn the old.
Now, storms and hurricanes ravage our broken lands
And dolphins strand themselves, and turtles gasp, and more —
Asphyxiated fish that choke in netted seas
Lie dead and blind upon our broken, littered shores.
I mourn them all, the birds, and animals, and plants
I mourn us all, so smug, so proud, so full of greed
With eyes of death, he chokes our breath– that demon, Wealth;
And laughs at us, although we cry; for mercy, plead.
What hope have we, who heed his lusty, tempting call?
What chance this earth against that mighty money-song?
If we but stop and turn things round (turn off the lights!)
We might yet live, and save what’s right, avert what’s wrong.
So, close your eyes, and step outside, while life yet thrives
And taste the beauty of this fragile Earth, who gives,
Such wealth, her fruit and flowers, and these, our forests wild,
So fragrant, fresh and sweet, in places that still live.
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So, our assignment today was: Write an elegy, use flavor in your poem, and try the rhetorical device of Enumeratio
Alas, I attempted the Elegy form, but gave up almost instantly. Still, just to challenge myself, I tried rhyming (It’s hard to resist a trite and easy rhyme scheme, but I really tried). I’ll probably go back to tweak this poem! This is only my second draft!
Also, I remembered almost too late that I needed to incorporate “flavor,” so I tried that, too.
My Enumeratio needs work, but I tried, I tried!
So, just as I did last week, when I attempted a classical Ode, and followed it with my next (non-Classical) Ode, I shall aim for another Elegy, but that will come later. I have to run, now)
Thanks for reading, all!
(P.S. So, I went back in just now – and tweaked three or four lines, just rearranged some words, cut out some, added an “and” or a “so,” and suchlike. It’s at times like these that I remember my favorite Oscar Wilde, who once said words to the effect of, “I’m exhausted. I spent all morning putting in a comma, and all afternoon taking it out.”)
Tags: #Elegy, #Life, #Love, #Writing 201, Beauty, Change our Ways, Climate Change, Commas, Dying Earth, Oscar Wilde reference, Save the seas, Savor the sweetness of this planet, Sow the wind and reap the whirlwind
Oct 2, 2015 Daily Life, Ramblings and Musings
So, after a long, long spell of dryness and crackling heat and dust, we’ve had a spell of three rainy days.
And it’s darker and darker earlier and earlier outside.
Usually, I have ambivalent feelings about autumn because of that, but I love that frisson in the air when it’s colder, and the leaves get golden and red (as they’re starting to do, finally).
This fall, I’m thinking of planting ginger and curry leaves indoors, in our downstairs bathtub-converted-into-a-grow-space-with-grow-lights-and-planting-containers. I hasten to assure you that I didn’t convert the bathtub into a grow-space, lest you gasp at my imagined multitude of skills — it was my husband, the amazing handyman at home, who did that. And outside, in our various beds in the front yard, I plan to plant the following fall crops:
- Beets
- Garlic
- Turnips
- Radishes
- Carrots
- Spinach
- Lettuce
- Kale
- Mustard greens
- Swiss chard
- Cabbage
We’ve grown so much this summer already — heaps and heaps of tomatoes (which are still growing, but not as lushly as half a month ago), heaps and heaps of green beans (and those are still growing), broccoli, cabbage, some not-as-prolific green peppers and eggplants, and lots of green and chillies! We do not really want to spend grocery money on store-bought veggies, which cost more for less. We like our food fresh from the vine or bush or plant. It tastes like one’s own heaven on earth. Our front yard, and garage-top container vegetable garden (also created by my beloved) is tight in terms of space, and our home is on a small, small plot of land in an semi-urban setting, but this garden does its job with pride and purpose.
I also want to plant bulbs before October goes — daffodil and tulip, crocuses, iris, narcissus. This weather is helpful. I neglected the fall flower-planting aspect of the garden for the past few years, and when spring came, our garden looked sad, with a few straggly tulips and daffodils here and there. The summer was much better, and things looked prettier. Vegetables always do well, but flowers? They require a lot of care and thought, and I hadn’t had the time for that. Now, I shall.
Fall is here, and it’s filled with hope: I shall plant, and I shall sing, I shall write, play music, and cook delicious food, and I shall learn to bake nice things for my family.
I thank the forces in this universe that aligned just right to make this time of freedom open its doors for me. From having lived long enough and seen some poverty and sadness, I know that things can change rapidly, that times can be replaced with bad in the blink of an eye, and one cannot rest too easy on one’s happiness, and yet … I am happy. If things go bad, I will remember the good times, and when things are good, I’ll focus on keeping them so, and sharing them.
Thanks for reading!
~Dreamer of Dreams
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One of my favorite poems of all time by John Keats:
| Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875. |
| J. Keats |
| CCLV. Ode to Autumn |
Tags: #Autumn, #Contentment, Beauty, fall, Family time, flower and vegetable garden, memories to store, season of mists, time of happiness, time of plenty
Sep 29, 2015 Daily Life
The Woods, Waterless
©September 29th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Today, when I walked in the dull-green woods with The Hoddles*, brown leaves rustled underfoot, dry and disgruntled, crackling like the promise of flame without hope of moisture.
The air was still, and the sudden call of a bird or two only made the stillness more oppressive. There was no sign of life. The soil was loose, and only the entwining roots of trees held things together. I felt the panting desire of the whole place for water. Insatiate need and blind yearning were all around me — in the air, in that sudden bird-call, in the soil, in the leaves and dry underbrush. And yet, in all this dryness, the woods were beautiful — because these woods, my woods, are always mysterious and green, be it a lush green, or a desiccated, thirsty green.
As Holly and I climbed the rocky, root-twined slopes up the side of the hill (our usual route), a sudden rustle stopped me. I looked, and to my pleasure, saw a sinuous, beautiful jewel-green-and-black striped slim snake (a garter snake, I think) rustle amongst the leaves, pause, taste the air, and move on, like a trickle of water in the dust. Then, quick as a flash, it vanished. Holly, to my surprise, didn’t evince any interest, and indeed, looked the other way. Perhaps, she smelled a deer. In any case, I’m glad she didn’t notice it.
I don’t think of myself as a reptile-lover, but I loved this snake. Shy and sweet, dry and probably soft, this snake moved like a liquid jewel. She made me think of this beautiful planet, our earth, our host, our mother.
And I was sad.
For the earth needs us. Climate Change is real. If we listen to those ruled by greed and denial, we will drown in the rising seas around us, or in the dry deserts that will overtake our planet.
So … plant things. Plant trees and bushes. Drive less. Walk more. Consume less. Make things from existing things. Let animals live and thrive. Help your friends. Share. Give more. I know it’s too late, and we’ve gone beyond the tipping point, but still … I hope.
And I want to work towards another future — the one in which we might yet have a chance.
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Image from http://www.fcps.edu/islandcreekes/ecology/eastern_garter_snake.htm
*(Holly, my dog — to those who are befuddled by my reference to The Hoddles)
Tags: #Hope, Beauty, Climate Change, consumption, Garter snakes, Holly the dog, music is life, planting trees, The Earth, The Woods near my house
May 7, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Reading, Writing, Thinking, Teaching and Learning
Ruminations
(Not too earth-shattering or terribly original, but what I thought of today)
©Vijaya Sundaram
May 7th, 2013
It seems so obvious, somehow, when one puts it baldly, thus: One has to have a meaning, a purpose in life. If there isn’t one, find one. If we cannot find one, look elsewhere. If we still cannot find one, create it. That’s it.
If the meaning and purpose come from a place of emptiness, then one’s actions are empty at best, and harmful at worst. That’s where we get the Dzhokhars and the Tamerlans. That’s where we get empty men with hungry souls emptying their weapons into innocent and hapless people. Adrift without meaning and purpose, the empty ones fill their emptiness with rage, religion and false notions of honor. Killing is the ultimate worst expression of that emptiness.
If we act with mixed motives, our lives will crumble, and we will create confusion in the lives of those around us. No one will benefit in the end, and all of us will be unhappy. I did all this for them, how come they don’t appreciate what I do? is the question that haunt those who act with mixed motives. Or: I don’t mind sacrificing my needs for others. Really! Confusion and anger come from these, and ultimately, disappointment and bitterness.
If our motives are clear and obvious, and we are not working only for our own benefit, but for the benefit for all, our lives will be the richer. As a great soul once purportedly said, “What you do to the least of my brothers, you do unto me.” Interconnectedness is everything in the web of our lives. Self-expression and service to others work only if both come from a place of joy and love. Clarity is the result.
If we work with purpose and true motivation, and we are doing it from interest and a willingness to learn, and a willingness to be vulnerable to failure, our lives will be the richer, and so will the lives of those around us.
If we act from moral strength and purpose, and our actions are real and obvious extensions of our intentions, and there is no self-aggrandizement detectable in our actions, our lives will reflect that. And inexplicably, others’ lives will be affected — positively.
Meaning and purpose germinate in such grounds as these.
It is the job of teachers and parents, and of the policy-makers to help create a world with meaning and purpose. If, instead, we create a generation devoid of true self-hood, but made up of selfishness instead, we are committing societal suicide.
Create meaning. Help and hold each other as we cross the treacherous terrain of existence. It’s in the reaching out and the holding that we find the poetry of living, the art in life.
Ultimately, a true artist or poet does art or writes poetry for its own sake, because it’s beautiful and because it makes her or him happy. Artists or poets don’t look for rewards or recognition (although they wouldn’t refuse it if it came their way). They bring others pleasure, but they do it unintentionally. They come from a place of truth.
Make your life a work of art. Make poetry. Make truth. Make love happen. Make the act of living, both for yourself and for others, a beautiful thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Clarity, #Life, #Love, #Poetry, #Truth, Art, Beauty, honor, interconnectedness, meaning, self-expression, self-hood vs. selfishness, service, Teaching the young
Apr 14, 2013 Teaching and Learning
Banjara Bound
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 14th, 2013
The women walk, with soft sway of hip-bones
Copper and silver, bone and glass adding
Allure and weight to their step, mystery
On mystery, burden folded on burden.
And sometimes, they wear pots on their hips, and
Sometimes, they wear pots on their heads,
And sometimes, they wear babies on their hips,
And sometimes, they wear baubles on their necks.
And sometimes, they are beaten by husbands
And sometimes, they are abused by landlords
And sometimes, they play with babes in the dust
And sometimes, they ask you to share their food.
Sometimes they walk by, unaware of all
Intent on their destination, which they
Alone know, and where you may never go.
For where they come from is a land that’s theirs.
Not for the faint of heart, not for the weak,
Their lives are traced like lines of wind in dunes
Of sand — beautiful, but subject to the
Whims and fancies of an indifferent fate.
And they move like sighs of wind on the sand
Their sorrows not to be unpacked by those
Who might try, but never will understand —
How does one analyze those tangled threads?
Love is, of course, love; so is forgiveness,
Loss and despair are also understood.
But the moving and the endless walking
The pull of wandering, the lust for home
These tug and push, these discontent-makers,
These lure and beckon, these will-‘o-the-wisps,
Just one more sand-dune, just one more dust-storm
And then, we’ll come to rest, and we’ll be home.
Home is just another word, a starting,
A still-point, before the turning of the
Axis, the revolving around a sun
That’s brighter than any gold they could buy.
And so they move, these beautiful women
Subject to no calendar, answering
To no greater power, except for the
Slow, hypnotic sway of an earth that turns.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Desert, #NaPoWriMo, #Women, Banjara women, Beauty, gypsies, Home, lure, mystery, wander-lust, Wandering