Apr 27, 2016 Original Poetry, Senryu, The Daily Post
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Mask
Masked-Love
©April 27th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
If you wear a mask
As the moon wears a soft cloud
Is it to shine less?
Better to shine less
Than to have all look upwards
This way, I can rest.
Why do you hide thus?
To behold your mind is joy:
All are bathed in light.
None need come find me
I shall flood the night with light
But hide behind clouds.
When I glimpse the truth,
And you drift away from me
I’m bereft, forlorn.
Though I may cause joy,
Like mist, my mask protects us
Seeker, leave me be!
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Tags: #Mask, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost, #TheDailyPrompt
Dec 17, 2015 Original Poetry
On the Road to Perdition
(Prompt: Camouflage; Poetry Day 9)December 17th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
He stands at the corner
And they drive right on,
Or stop, pull up windows,
Lock their doors, cautious
You see, because … well …
Because …they’re … cautious,
And it’s good sense, right?
Not knowing what
Lurks in the empty space
Before them, in the
Shape of one they don’t see,
Because they are blind,
All blind, driving into the
Blinding dark of denial,
They drive, tanks full,
Mouths full, chewing on talk.
And the man they cannot see
Stands, reflected in the sky
Which approaches them,
So fast, so close — who brought down
That blue emptiness before them?
Or is it a cloud? Yes, a reflected cloud.
See? There’s no one there!
Staring straight ahead,
Eyes fixed on empty air,
Perhaps viewing empty dreams,
Speaking into cell phones
Texting their loved ones,
Sipping designer lattes,
They drive on, these rich ones
Empty-eyed, empty-souled
Empty-hearted, full-bellied.
Unaware, uninvolved,
They drive, while he blends
Right into the blue sky,
Into stiff brown trees.
Trees, aging ballerinas,
With arthritic hands,
freezing cold, stand cold, cruel,
And he blends, a broken man.
Like a thin growth of forest
He stands, eyes wide.
And he blends.
And they drive.
The scudding clouds,
The bitter steel and concrete
Of a bridge to unease, these
Smile for him, as he stands,
Unsmiling and alone in islands
Of light, and circles of sun.
And the sign he holds says:
Could you spare some change?
Homeless veteran, need food.
What he does not say:
Can you see me?
Can you hear me?
I am homeless. I am lost.
I am homeless. Tossed upon
This life, did not ask to arrive.
Yet, here I stand, stranded.
Will you give a moment
Of your time? A hug, perhaps,
Better still, a dime?
At least a smile, for I am here.
Can you see me, car-people?
Can you hear me?
What he doesn’t say
You will never know.
For you cannot see
You cannot hear
You cannot be
Where he is, or who he is.
For you have blended
Into that darkening sea
Of unpersonhood,
And you have dissolved,
All humanity gone, lost
In dull resentment, lost
in indifference to yourself
He stands, silhouetted
Just for a moment.
While your car becomes sky
Then, shoulders slouched,
He walks on, his sign
The mark of his own
Personal Calvary*
(And you won’t see him).
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* The use of the word “Calvary” is symbolic here (I do not wish to offend anyone’s sensibilities).
Note: “The Road to Perdition” is a phrase that is far, far older than the movie of the same name by Sam Mendes.
Tags: #Camouflage, #Mask, #Poetry, #Writing 101, Calvary reference, Day 9, Homelessness, not the movie!), Sign, The Road to Perdition (the phrase
Apr 3, 2013 Original Poetry, Parenting/ Home-schooling / Family Music and other Notes
Catapult – A Poem
©By Vijaya Sundaram
I watch the sun’s beckoning fingers
Inviting my daughter and me to go out
And play. The lure is undeniable.
I resist, resolutely. I shall not go out.
No, I shall not. I want to be lumpen.
My plea? Too tired. Too worn out.
Not for me the beautiful sun
Nor for me the brisk air
Of near-Spring, teetering
At the edge of winter,
Still tilted in Winter’s wake.
I insist on staying indoors, always
The rebel against that which is good for me.
I used to be good, you know.
I was good. I looked good.
I was young and aware of it.
So, I carefully did these:
Walk, eat right, count my calories,
Be healthy, do lunges and stretches.
Now, un-Cinderella-like, with the years
Flown by, I find that I’ve turned
Into a pumpkin, and do not mind.
My daughter doesn’t mind that we are home.
She’s had her sun-stint earlier today,
With loving and dutiful Dad.
She played with Bella, a beautiful dog
She romped about
On wood-chips and grass,
Happy to be almost at Spring’s door.
I wasn’t there. I was told the bare
Details: Playground, dog, Bella, romping.
But I might have been there.
I saw them all, clearly.
For I hallucinate scenes
Clear as day, scenes which move
Like movies of yore, slow long
Camera angles and panning.
I see everything: My child,
Bella the dog, her fond owner,
My fond husband watching our daughter
Adore the dog, and the blue, blue sky above.
I hallucinate most things (but I know
It’s in my mind), because the stories
Always unfold thus, and all the colors are
Extra-saturated and brighter than real.
Now, as I watch, bemused, nonplussed,
My daughter prances about the house
Cat-faced, with a mask she made herself.
Cow-like, she moos, then cat-like, she slinks
Towards me, catapulting into my arms.
Stunned, I allow myself
To be borne away on the wave of her
Eight-year old magic.
Once, she asked me:
Would you love me if I were a boy?
I shall always love you.
Would you love me less if I were a teenager?
I shall always love you.
Can I stay with you and Dad forever?
I shall always love you.
I love you, Mom!
I shall always love you.
“I don’t want to grow up,” she states
Seriously, full of purpose and intent.
“I won’t! I want to stay a kid
Forever, and be free.”
Part of me agrees.
Another part says,
What of the you who’s waiting to be?
But for now, we stay far from the catapult
Which flings us into the distant future.
Time enough for growing up.
For right now, a child of eight
Claims my entire attention
And dances in the spotlight
Of my love for her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Childhood, #Daughter, #Life, #Love, #Mask, #Mother and Daughter, #NaPoWriMo, catapult, dog interactions, future, Growing up, innocence, Play, Playground