Mar 11, 2016 The Daily Post, Uncategorized
(Poem in response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt for today: Flow)
Un-Jonah!
©March 11th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I don’t WANT to go with the flow
It’s too easy for me
Too easy to let things be
I WANT to resist
Lest I be swept away to sea
And die in the mouth of a
BIG, BIG FISH,
And I, a minnow!
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Tags: #Fish, #Original Poetry, Jonah
Oct 6, 2014 Original Poetry
Out of Water and Out of Air
©October 6th, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram
The fish sails,
Head half in, half out,
Floundering, diving,
Coming up again, diving
Neither in, nor out,
Neither here nor there.
Suffocating in air,
Drowning in water.
Tail lashing back and forth,
It sees the golden disk
Of sun from below,
Comes up eagerly
To drink in the light,
But gasps, as the rare
Air hits unaccustomed gills.
Writhing in terror
And ecstasy, before
It sinks back in,
Singing of the light.
And unformed lungs
Struggle to grow
In a body too light, too
Easily pierced by bait.
Surrounded by fish
Which flow easily, like song,
Through that twilit world,
At ease with body and fins
Unconscious and joyous
Twirling in sport,
Racing away in terror:
Prey chased by predators
Chased in their turn, it
Swims on and on, raises
Face to the light, sinks back in.
Is that all there is to this?
This constant striving
To no avail, for no purpose?
This struggle, this wriggle
Through murk, and to lurk
In dark spaces, with waving
Fronds that invite, but bite.
Is this all there is?
Don’t tell the fish
That struggle ennobles.
There is nothing noble in it,
Except in the minds
Of those who would weave words
To lead the blind.
Where is a world for a
Fish such as this?
Struggling at the confluence
Of air and earth and water,
It makes a bubble-dream.
Where is a world for a
A fish such as this?
It twists and leaps
And looks up skywards,
And dies, it dies, full
Of desire and pain.
And when it dies,
Will a new Creature emerge,
Straddling air and land and water,
Poised and cool,
Master of all it surveys?
Or will the creature
Look around, and yearn
And weep for something
We cannot yet see?
Neither land, nor sky
Nor water nor fire
Will quench its yearning.
And so, it goes.
While the air and sky,
And land and water,
Swirl darkly, promising
Nothing.
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Tags: #Fish, #Original Poetry by Vijaya Sundaram, #Striving, #Struggle, Evolution, not belonging, not in one's element
Feb 26, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries
Finster –A Tragic Tale of a Heartless Fish
©By Vijaya Sundaram
(Written on June 9th, 2012)
Come gather around friends, and listen to my tale of woe, that is, if you have the time, the energy, the inclination, the patience and the sympathy to do so:
I had a Siamese Fighting Fish (Beta) once, long ago, and I called him Finster. He was fierce and mean, and chased any other fish away, and they fled in terror, with him in full pursuit. Unfortunately, he was also a very beautiful fish, blue-green and exquisitely iridescent, with flowing fins and a very elegant turn of the tail – and I being a sucker for beautiful fish, decided to keep him, but apart from the rest. That way, I could enjoy both Finster, plus all my other fish in the larger aquarium, and be assured of their safety from Finster.
So, I put him in a separate, pretty bowl, and he swam to his heart’s content — in and out of some fishy structures I’d made for him. I admired his beauty and gazed lovingly, if exasperatedly at him, while he looked belligerently back at me (or perhaps, at his own reflection – no narcissist he!).
One day, observing him blowing many, many bubbles (which, my research told me, was a sign of his need to mate and have babies with his mate—because it’s the male Siamese Fighting Fish which protects its babies from predators, by blowing bubbles up to the surface, and making sure each bubble holds an egg), I knew he was ready for a mate, so I bought him a pretty little female Fighting Fish.
Well, what do you know? He chased her up and down the bowl, and my poor little female fish driven to a state of unbridled fright stayed under the driftwood I’d placed in the bowl, trembling and quivering, and possibly whimpering in abject terror (but you know, as they say, in space no one can hear you scream). So, I stood outside the fishbowl (where else could I stand?) and scolded him roundly, insulting him in fishy tongue. He turned a deaf ear to my expostulations and continued to maraud and pursue his so-called mate.
One day, when I came home from work, alas! I saw the poor female fish dead, and partly eaten. How I hated my Finster that day! I abused and insulted him, but he looked at me in scorn. (How could I, a mere human, understand his strange, heartless, aquatic nature?) Weeks and months passed, and I went through the motions of caring for this cannibalistic creature, changing his water, feeding him, and so on. He, meanwhile, barely noticed while my heart burned with unrequited, unsatisfied hate.
Then, quite a while later, W and I left for India in 1994. I gave Finster back to The Village Pet Store (now gone the way of all stores) in Arlington. I was thankful to see the last of him. I would, however, have liked him to acknowledge me. He, the guttersnipe, simply turned his back on me, and flicked his tail in contempt. My heart, I’m happy to say, was still intact. But I never bought a Beta again.
He was much too Alpha for me.
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Tags: #Fish, aquarium, Beta, original anecdote, Siamese Fighting Fish