May 17, 2016 The Daily Post
Buddy?
May 17th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I’m not from the West. The word “Buddy” does resonate with me, for me. I prefer “friend.”
“Buddy” has a masculine connotation for me, sort of like Yaar, or Dost, in Hindi does. And it also has a canine connotation.
I noticed, with interest, that my sister-in-law, brother-in-law (both white Americans) and others like them, whom I like, and towards whom I have warm feelings of respect and admiration, called their son “Buddy” when he was a young child. It made sense to me. I rather liked the sound of it. It felt warm and sweet.
I have a daughter, who is beautiful, and the most beloved person in my husband’s and my world. She’s fun to be with, and funny. She’s growing more into who she is each day, becoming an equal to us in music and in reading, and in her ability to understand subtleties in life. We converse at many levels. And I have a canine friend, who is a doggess, and she’s the best doggess in the world.
They’re not “buddies.” They are more than that.
My husband is my love, my partner, my dearest friend, my inspiration. He’s WAY more than a “buddy.”
I guess I don’t have a buddy. And it doesn’t bother me.
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In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Buddy
Tags: #Buddy, #DailyPrompt, #TheDailyPost
May 14, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Photograph©Vijaya Sundaram
Pearl Beyond Compare
(Underestimate)
©May 14th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Good at estimating
Hazarding a guess,
He could tell at a glance
The true price of everything,
But the value of nothing,
And he’d beat it down
To get what he wanted.
But when he picked up a
Pearl beyond compare,
Lying innocent and quiet
On the crab-infested beach,
He thought it a pebble
Laughed at its lumpiness,
Its monstrous size, saw nothing
In its shining depths,
Did not imagine riches
In its shimmering glow.
And he threw it away.
Into the hungry sea
And bought some fake ones
That cost him a fortune,
And possibly, his wife.
And the sea? She was glad
And she let him be.
She had received her due,
She would torment no one.
For what the sea releases
She takes back always, always.
For everything flows back
Home to the sea.
Do not underestimate her.
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P.S. I was thinking obliquely about John Steinbeck’s book The Pearl, but my character tosses this metaphorical pearl back into the sea without even seeing what it is, whereas Kino hangs on to his literal (and metaphorical) Pearl of the World, and pays a huge price, which is, in its turn, completely different from what Matthew spoke on in the well-known parable (13:46).
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Underestimate
Tags: #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #PearlofGreatPrice, #TheDailyPost, #Underestimate
May 14, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Photograph©By Vijaya Sundaram, April 10th, 2016
Vision and Visions
©May 14th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
It is what you do not see
When you walk, eyes fixed
On everything beyond, your
Footsteps leading you
Inexorably towards your
Future, meted out to you
In incremental doses by
A timid mind – yours –
That is what interests me.
Vision is tricky in a fog
Your aging eyes,
Their lenses losing shape
Ache with a longing
For clarity beyond doubt, yet,
When you see clearly,
With a little help, of course,
You trust not what you see.
Is seeing, perhaps, always
A matter of where you stand?
A question of certainty,
Even if the world revolves
Dizzyingly around your heels?
As you turn and turn,
And the shapes flow in and out
Of an insidious mist, do you whisper
Whom do I trust? What is the truth?
Eyes see eyes in a turning world
Eyes all around, seeing endlessly
Seeing each other reflected
Endlessly in their orbs,
Eyes all the way into the past
Into the future, seeing-blind.
Tell me again, are you there?
Were you ever there?
And am I here, if I cannot see?
It is a dream of visions
We are the dreamers,
We are the dream
We are the seers
We are the seen.
Somewhere in another world
A sea without stars froze,
Where a young girl sang
Floating above the waves,
Playing her sitar,
But the song fades from mind
And a voice cries in the wilderness.
And somewhere, eyes flash.
And the Sleeper sleeps on.
Eyes closed, speaking softly
In her sleep, as the visions
Emerge, merge, submerge.
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In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Vision
Tags: #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost, #Vision
May 12, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Photograph@Vijaya Sundaram, 2007
Wormhole
(Survival by Chance)
©May 12th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
To reach its goal, sperm swims upstream
Poor little salmon, bursting free from
The urge to be washed away.
If it’s lucky, it’ll survive.
And then, if we’re lucky,
We shall see the light of day.
If not, meh, no big deal.
Someone will emerge from that
Moist dark tunnel, fighting all the way,
To breathe in cool gulps of new air,
Shivering and naked, but alive,
Human and whole, and save the world
Or perhaps, destroy it.
Our future is dark, and we see darkly
But perhaps, we shall find meaning
And purpose, and oh, a wormhole
To wriggle into and out of,
To start out again, anew.
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P.S. I know that photograph is not of salmon, but still … it’s fish!
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Survival
Submitting simultaneously to dVerse for the first time.
Tags: #DailyPrompt, #dVerse, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
May 11, 2016 Light verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Diverse
Di-verse
©May 10th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
The deadly spectre of duality
Has quite overtaken my halting verse –
‘Twould be far better if plurality
Were awakened to stop it from being terse.
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Tags: #DailyPrompt, #Diverse, #Poetry, #TheDailyPost
May 9, 2016 Free Verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Chaos
Take Off The Lid
(On the Chaos in My Mind)
©May 9th, 2016
Want a peek into pure chaos?
Lift the lid to my brain
Go on, do it!
Ah, I knew you were too scared
Worried about what you’d find, eh?
Here, I’ll take you by the hand,
Shine a torch into the darkened corridors
Let the air in a bit.
Here’s a room filled with insecurity:
Too many doubts, too few doubts,
Too much judgement:
For doing, or not doing,
For being, or not being
This, or that, or the other.
Castigate myself:
Too many moral standards
To vault over.
Too many ambivalences,
Too many opposing pulls:
Should I, shouldn’t I?
Why should I?
Too many fears, unspoken anxieties.
Commitments to flee from
Commitments to bind myself with.
And while loving getting older,
I’m hating it with a passion.
Wishing to borrow this mind
And inhabit my younger self.
Walk cautiously, the dust will
Choke you, trip you up.
Here’s a room filled with joy:
Music, music, music swirling
Like flower-strewn winds.
Rich pleasure in simply being
In my skin, oh how lovely!
Love, so much love, bursting
With love for so many!
Sensuous joy – mine alone.
All that sunlight to drink,
All those colors to steep my skin in,
All those fragrances in which to drown,
All those birds to gaze at,
All those silken scarves to
Brush against my silken skin.
(Older silk is sweeter, by far)
All the love my husband pours over me,
And which gives me life.
The sweet hugs my daughter gives me
When I do some simple thing for her.
All the pleasures of moving
Feeling my limbs working,
Feeling sunlight and warmth
The sliding down of grateful food
The slipping of delicious drink
That soft sigh my dog makes when
The night makes her curl up.
The sense of spinning from
The earth, as I walk gratefully
Upon her, enjoying life.
Walk cautiously, the clamor here
Can be deafening, even if it’s
A noisy celebration, and
The lights are too bright.
And it’s all jumbled up here.
Sometimes, in the midst of
This room of joy, a remembered
Sorrow trips me up.
I could organize all this,
Label them neatly and file
Them away into happy
Memory drawers, a file cabinet of sorts,
But they’re ongoing. They’re alive,
Not forgotten, not lost.
I need to move some of them
Into another room, larger, quieter,
But for now, I let them lie,
Ready to leap into life.
And sometimes in the room of
Deep insecurity, piled high
With old worries, or privations,
I see a passage of pure light,
Leading to an open window,
And see that I simply need
To chuck most of that stuff out,
But not into the yard,
No, chuck them out, and make
Them vanish with a simple spell.
That would restore order,
But allow some chaos
To linger amidst it all.
I wouldn’t mind that.
For, in chaos,
Surprises lurk, and lie in wait.
And I don’t mind a little dust,
Even if it makes me cough.
And the occasional gleaming jewel
I find, as I pass through, is worth
A thousand dust bunnies.
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Tags: #Chaos, #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
Apr 13, 2016 Light verse, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Bedtime
Bedtime (a silly poem)
©April 13 (really, the night of the 12th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
If only I had one!
When all is said and done,
It’s in the land of sleep
We plunge in waters deep.
I find the night a lure –
For this there is no cure.
I like to count the hours
In poems or in stars.
I drink some tea and stare
At nothing, everywhere.
I’ve only gotten worse.
What, bedtime? It’s a curse!
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Tags: #Bedtime, #DailyPrompt, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
Apr 5, 2016 NaPoWriMo, The Daily Post
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt for April 1st: Colorful
Colored Me
©April 5th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Color your world blue
Blue ice, blue eyes,
Blue mood, blue skies.
Color my world brown
Brown skin, brown hair
Brown earth, brown stare.
Color their world green
Green trees, green grass
Green youth, green lass.
Color our world red
Red blood, red flowers
Red hearts, red scars
Color our space gold
Gold sun, gold dunes,
A golden noon
Color my world black.
Black eyes, black skin
Back where you’ve been.
Hold my blue,
I’ll follow you.
Hold my brown
I shall not frown
Hold my green
(Of youth, I mean)
Hold my red,
I’ll not be led.
Hold my gold
To make you bold.
Hold my black,
Don’t hold me back.
Hold me thus
In all my modes;
In all my sorrow –
The dread it bodes.
In all my joy,
The boundaries break;
In all my peace,
It’s love I make.
In all my art
Live songs I sing
In all my worlds,
I rise on wings.
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Submitting this simultaneously to The Daily Post, and to NaPoWriMo
Tags: #Colorful, #Colors, #DailyPrompt, #ModesandMoods, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
Mar 29, 2016 Original Poetry, The Daily Post
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Frivolous
Frivolous Gravity
© March 29th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Frivolous I might be, but I
Revel in, delight in your
Ibsenian seriousness.
Veer here, the world’s
On a collision course with hell, so
Lone traveller, may I join you
One day, soon, now? (I like your mien!)
Ultimate wisdom is fun, but
Sunlight beckons. Shed gravity, dance!
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Tags: #DailyPrompt, #Frivolous, #TheDailyPost
Mar 27, 2016 Original Poetry, The Daily Post
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Footsteps
Footstepping Stone
©March27th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I step on sand, and my footsteps fade.
I step on water; waves drift away.
I step on air; winds catch my feet
I step on clouds; rain drenches me.
My footsteps lead to strange new spots
I step on rocks, leap over streams
I slip on grass, and keep close watch
For snakes, and sudden ice, unseen.
I follow others, drift from them,
Step on their boot-tracks, turn to go left
Then turn around, head back to the right,
Then walk on down the road not seen.
I wish that I wouldn’t have to roam,
I wish that I didn’t walk alone, with
No thoughts to think, no angst to own,
No dreams to seek on the way back home.
For it’s not easy, and yet things are!
(It’s just more work for my brain and me!)
And a road not seen can always be
A road that can take our footsteps far.
And footsteps light on a road of stone
Will ring like a gong and sing of flight
And freedom’s song will ease the night
Till all my flesh falls off my bones.
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*Written at 2:34 a.m. Please excuse me if it makes no sense. 🙂
Tags: #DailyPrompt, #Footsteps, #Original Poem, #TheDailyPost