Mar 5, 2016 Uncategorized
Gold and Shadow
©March 5th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
That reflection you hold
Aloft in your mind’s view?
Find it. Reach it.
Touch it. Understand
It’s the sun.
You’re the one.
(Don’t burn your hand.
Let it teach you.
Don’t let it blind you.)
Turn all into gold.
Don’t let it vanish
Don’t turn your back.
Things can attack
Your dreams. So fight!
Shadows you banish
Come from behind
The light. You’ll find
They gleam. Hold tight!
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Tags: #Original Poetry, Dreams, Gold, Reflections
Dec 18, 2015 Original Poetry
Fare for the Ferry
(Prompt: Farewell; Poetry, Day 10)©December 18th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Goodbye, I said to the clock in the room
Goodbye, it whispered back to me.
Farewell, I said to the shadowy gloom,
Which said, “Oh, please come back to me.”
Goodbye, I said to the leaning tree
Goodbye, it whispered back to me.
Farewell, I said to the vanishing sea
It said, “Oh, you’ll come home to me.”
Goodbye, I said to my much-loved books
Goodbye, they whispered back to me.
Farewell, I said to the Time I took
The clock just smiled and ticked at me
Goodbye, I said to promises made
Goodbye, they whispered back to me.
Farewell, I said to the roles I played
But they dissolved in mystery
Goodbye, I said to the fish and the birds
Goodbye, they whispered back to me.
Farewell, I said, but nobody heard.
So, I cut the threads, and rose up, free.
And when I arose, and was borne aloft
I floated till the air grew soft,
Till it bloomed into streams and carried me
Where a boatman stood to ferry me.
But I had no coin, and I had no fare
I had to return, and descend the stairs
But I tripped and fell down athwart the skies
And now, I’m a dream behind your eyes.
And, now I sing, Farewell to all
The night is good, it hears my call.
Farewell, I sing, and go to sleep,
And I will weave you dreams to keep.
Just carve me a coin cut from the moon
I’ll give it to my boatman soon.
For I am weary and need my rest
I’ve loved this life, now comes the test.
No, do not weep, and do not moan
No, do not wail and do not groan.
It’s sleepy-time now for my soul
And time for me to be made whole.
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Tags: #Death, #Freedom, #Life, #Writing 101, Poetry, Boatman, Charon, Coin for the boatman, Day 10, Dreams, Farewell, goodbye, My 2nd Poem for Day 10, Rest
Jan 10, 2015 Awake in Dream Time - Journal Entries about the almost real, Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries
Woke up from a good dream and a bad one.
Good Dream: A recurring one. I was leaping into the air, and able to spin while airborne, and any time I felt gravity pulling me down, I spun towards a wall, and kicked off, only to leap and spin (sort of fly, but not quite) in the air, and STAY airborne. When others in the room asked me how, I said, “It’s really possible. Just trust your intentions,” or words of that nature. I awoke after that, in a good mood, then went back to sleep, and had the Bad Dream below.
Bad Dream: I was in a train heading towards a tiny town, where a bunch of school children were in their school-rooms. As the train sped by a completely alien landscape, I saw the silver river snaking by in the opposite direction, and something told me it was going to flood. I sent a message to the school, “Quick, evacuate everyone, and get to high ground,” but was scoffed at. And as I watched in horror, the water overflowed the banks, and rushed towards the town, and my train. Then, I awoke, and was in a bad mood.
No Freudian jokes, please!
🙂
Dreamer of Dreams
Tags: dream symbols, Dreams, Levitating/flying/dancing in a dream, symbolism
Nov 29, 2013 Teaching and Learning
Composed on Dec. 31st, 1992, in Arlington, Massachusetts, USA.
Performed by Vijaya Sundaram and Antigravity (with Vijaya Sundaram, vocals and guitar, Warren Senders, bass, Phil Scarff, saxaphone, Bob Pilkington, trombone, Jerry Leake, drums)
Recorded in 1993.
Tags: #Magic Realism, Dreams, myth, original song, remedios varo
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
Feb 10, 2013 Awake in Dream Time - Journal Entries about the almost real, the surreal and the unreal
Greeting the Ghosts:
(First posted on my WordPress blog on Feb. 10, 2013)
©Vijaya Sundaram
Every morning, when I wake up, and every night when I go to sleep, I greet my ghosts.
They cluster around me, aching with loneliness. “Tell us about it all,” they sigh and await the news of a world they crave.
They never got used to being dead, you see.
I take pity on them sometimes. They are so very sad
Still, I ask myself, Is this all there is to it? Shouldn’t they be floating higher and higher, and eventually get sucked into the vortex of the sun?
I don’t tell them what I think. Their feelings might get hurt. One of them, a tender-hearted spirit stays long by my bedside, asking me all about my sleep. I lead it into my dream world, and it takes in a deep breath. The other ghosts, jealous and fretful, pull it back into their world. The tender-hearted spirit weeps. The windows rattle outside.
I turn over. I need to sleep. Morning awaits me, fresh-eyed and abrupt, like a child waiting to roust one from one’s rest.
Tags: almost-real, border-world, Dreams, Imagination, mind, Sleep