Jul 13, 2016 Original Poetry, The Daily Post
Star-Trip
©July 13th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Unfurling my bright new sail.
Getting ready for my journey.
Will you step on board with me?
We will sail through puffy clouds
We will sail up to the moon
We shall catch the Earth-rise soon.
Stop here for a bit and breathe
That heady breath of space-time –
Don’t you think it tastes sublime?
Now, onto Mars we’ll quickly go.
Before we know it, we will melt
Right through the asteroidal belt.
And next, we’ll swing by Jupiter,
We shall not stop to say hello
We have a long, long way to go.
So, on and on, we’ll sail through space
In my little ship whose sails
Will snag a passing comet’s tail.
So, we’ll hitch a quicker ride
To the galaxy’s far end.
That’s when the journey’s done, my friend.
No, we shall not return home.
Home is in this little ship.
(I think you’ll like this cosmic trip.)
Don’t you think you’d like to come?
I’ll bring some songs and pretty flowers
We shall while away the hours.
I shall make you dainty cakes
And cups of spicy Indian tea
We’ll chase away reality.
You say you won’t? You break my heart!
Well, darling, I am off to row
Away forever – off I go!
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(Written at 3:40 a.m. Forgive my lapses! Oh, and I’ve set my WP clock to Alaska time, so it’s still Wednesday, July 13th in my little blog-world, not Thursday, July 14th!)
Tags: #DailyPrompt, #Journey, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Postaday, #TheDailyPost
Oct 2, 2015 Original Poetry, Writing 101
Image by Cheri Lucas Rowlands
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Journey to the Heart of the Web
(In the Future — My Day 20 Post)
©October 1st, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
The future is now. And now. And now!
Half-way towards my Death, I lurch.
I see her lurking in the shadows. Her breath
So cold, her eyes so gray, her face silver
Like stars stretched across space.
She is patient, so patient! Spinning,
Spanning time, hanging beads of questions
On her web, and oh! how big those questions:
Who are you?
Where are you headed?
Why toil so much?
I am silent, thinking.
I am one among many
Unique to those I love,
And to those who love me,
Forgotten by the rest.
I have poems to write,
Songs to sing, a daughter to cherish
A husband to love, a dog to adore.
I have a garden and a novel waiting
For me to nurture them into life.
I have books to read, things to put away,
Flowers to inhale, birds to feed,
Snow to play in, a planet to explore.
This is not toil, though it is work.
And it is joy.
I say to her:
I am not ready for you. Hang back,
Step away from me!
And her voice, cold as glass, says:
I am always waiting. I will welcome you.
Not yet, I say, calmly, hold back.
I have plans. I do not fear you,
But I have a life to build,
I’ll create a tower,
With storeys* made of story.
In the future, just before you entwine me in silk,
In my future, I will write,
And sing, and teach my child.
I will love my husband and child,
And take them with me on
A story-journey. We will travel
Through my stories, and theirs,
Sing our songs, grow our minds,
Forget our fears, drop our bags,
And run through the fields.
And Death is silent. Then, she says:
I shall be waiting.
Her voice is like a desert.
I think: My stories will come to me
From the spring of stories
That encircles the world,
And brings life to parched places,
And I want to dip my cup
In that water, and drink deep.
So, I face my future,
Setting my face against that quiet
Shadowed form, that voice
That rustles, my Death so elegant,
So ice-quiet.
But her voice, cold as glass, says,
I shall wait for you.
I am always waiting. I will welcome you.
Yes, wait, keep waiting, I say.
I think: In my future, I will learn better
How to tell those stories,
And sing songs, and write poems,
I will strip ego, and listen, listen
To all the people I meet,
Sans judgement, sans fear,
Sans ready response. For, in their
Voices, stories live, and in their
Hearts, grow dreams and love.
I will see their hearts, and sing those songs.
And I turn to her, and say:
When you come, O Death,
I shall sing you my song,
And tell you my story,
And we will journey together
To the heart of your web.
And we will be as one.
But not yet, not yet,
I have plans, and
There is much to learn.
And Death pauses, sighs,
Rustles her robe, turns away.
And her voice, cold as glass, whispers:
I shall wait for you.
I am always waiting. I will welcome you,
And you shall tell me your story.
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*In the US, the word storey is not much used. But those from other English-speaking countries will know what I mean.
Tags: #Death, #Journey, #Learning, #Life, #Love, Family time, fear, poems, songs, stories
May 12, 2014 Uncategorized
Journey’s End
©May 12th, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram
Little things:
The smile that leaves an imprint in the air
The nod of greeting branching my way
The question that arises from thirst
The answer that comes from a quenched place
The dog back on her feed, after sickness,
Whose face shows her former mischief
The child who tries to please, and fills
My heart with an aching joy,
Who learns and spins and dances,
And sings and advances into maturity,
And retreats into childhood,
When the fairies call.
The husband who makes it all work,
Binds our wounds, makes the appointments
Grows our food, fixes our house,
Loves and gives and forgives,
And occasionally grouches, as do I.
These little things
Make my blood sing.
And make my orbit steady
As we swing towards
Journey’s end.
Journey’s End
May 12th, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram
Little things:
The smile that leaves an imprint in the air
The nod of greeting branching my way
The question that arises from thirst
The answer that comes from a quenched place
The dog who is back on her feed, after sickness,
And whose face shows her former mischief
The child who tries to please, and fills
My heart with an aching joy,
Who learns and spins and dances
And sings and advances into grown-up-hood
And retreats into childhood, when it’s all too much.
The husband who makes it all work,
Holds it together, makes it to the appointments
Grows our food, fixes our house, loves and gives
And occasionally grouches, as do I.
These little things
Make my blood sing.
And make my orbit steady
As we swing towards
Journey’s end.
Tags: #Family, #Journey, #Original Poetry, destination, orbiting