Apr 15, 2013 Uncategorized
Boston, In Grief
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 15th, 2013
When fear develops teeth and claws
And opens wide its angry jaws
Can people turn around and fight
And slay that Grendel with our might?
Do people have the time to teach
Can love expand to hatred’s reach?
Go tell that to the ones who died.
Go tell their families that you tried
To stop the fear, to stamp out hate
Extend a hand, help grief abate.
But while we rage amidst our grief,
And seek to find the hateful thief
Of life and freedom and of peace
We know we need to find release.
Revenge is bitter, hate is cold.
We seek in lead that which is gold
Alas! What can we try to do
But face our grief, and start anew?
~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, Boston, grief, marathon, Starting anew, tragedy
Apr 9, 2013 Uncategorized
Mercy-Crumbs
[Fourth Poem-Response to “Pigeon” by Anthony Green]
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 9, 2013
Pigeon on the platform
Man on the train.
Sometimes, crumbs of mercy
Give life again.
Small pigeon at his human feet
His crumbs of mercy for the bird
A man, at gunpoint with the guards
A woman gives hope with a word
Each little crumb feeds living souls
Each little crumb gives back to life
Each little crumb furthers a goal
Each little crumb reduces strife.
A simple act, a simple deed
So easy, yet so very hard
For those who do not choose to feel.
And only some dare take that chance.
A simple act saved this man’s life
So simple, yet so very strong
Her kindness was that upon which
His life hinged; she set right that wrong.
The man saw her, and said no word
His thanked her with his eyes so mute
And filled with something that was stirred
Within, and rich with gratitude.
Pigeon on the platform
Man on the train.
Sometimes, crumbs of mercy
Give life again.
Tags: #Hope, #Life, #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, Goodness, Gratitude, Mercy, poem-response to "Pigeons" by Anthony Green
Apr 9, 2013 Uncategorized
This is my second Poem-Response to “Pigeon” (film by Anthony Green)
Slingshot
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 9th, 2013
Poor, poor bird,
Alone in the world
At the mercy of boys
With slingshots.
Just there,
Nowhere else to go
Nothing else to do
But just be and peck
At crumbs of mercy
Tossed its way.
Every crumb matters
Every gesture burns
As a brand in the dark.
Every act of goodness
Lasts an eternity.
Though the cruel day
Comes, hell-bent on
Exposure and betrayal,
Each kindness leaves
A trace.
And the bird survives for
Another day, another hour.
Though cruelty
Dogs its steps.
Every kindness brings
Life.
Every saving brings
Hope.
Every crumb brings
Fullness.
And somewhere,
In another world
In another time,
Those traces will come
To live and glow
Through eternity.
And life will take wing
In the light of peace.
And only goodness will
People that world, with
No slingshots in sight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Hope, #kindness, #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, #Peace, fullness, Saving, Slingshot
Apr 8, 2013 Uncategorized
Boot-Foot and Bug
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 8th, 2013
Emotion comes and goes
A storm that seems so strong
Once it’s over, it’s done.
I know it, but do they?
I dislike emotion.
An annoyance it is,
A silly distraction,
A pointless indulgence.
All that bursting, bleeding
Self-serving sentiment,
A foolish, maudlin thought
That the world really cares.
Somewhere a bug dies in
Terrible pain killed by
A monstrous boot-foot which
Does not care or know it.
Better to just crawl off
Fly away, flee away
Right out of that boot-foot.
Avoid, avoid that foot!
~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~
P.S. This is all I could come up with today. No wise words, no deep-fried descriptions, no universal truths, no lush language. Today is Spartan fare. That’s all, folks!
Tags: #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, Bug, Emotion, Foot, Indulgence, Passing Storms, Sentiment
Apr 5, 2013 Uncategorized
The Feather Drifted Down
©A poem by Vijaya Sundaram, June 3, 2011
Stillness. The feather drifted down.
Silently, the feather drifted.
Drifting down, without a sound
It caught my eye, held it captive.
Drifting, it caused me to suspend
All thought, emotion, sensation,
All space was there for it to bend
Into white swirls, interactive
With the air. My eyes tracking it,
The feather twirled, drifted and danced.
Grace, in space, while I, lacking it
Stayed put, all silent and in thrall.
This is what it all boils down to:
A single feather floating down
Life and death and toil come round to
A few moments spent in free fall.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Life, #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, #Space, dance, Feather, Free Fall, grace, Toil
Mar 29, 2013 Uncategorized
Day-Night-Quiet — Pune, India
©By Vijaya Sundaram
Written in India, on Friday, July 16, 2010
And the hills coming closer
Closer, closer
Marching towards the buildings
Being built
And the sky reaching
Towards the claustrophobic
To pluck them, gasping, into open space,
And the slim bais walking along the road
Not yet bent by hard work
In the houses of the rich,
The not-so-rich, and the toilers,
Walking proud, strong, upright
Knowing it is they
Who keep the dust at bay.
And the blood streaming
Through my arteries,
Through veins, dreaming
Along the shores
Of my being, reminds me
Of all that goes on, while all
This toil proceeds in the world
Around the edges of my skin.
And the crickets chirping
And the dogs yelping
And the buses hooting
And the rickshaws snorting
And the trucks squawking
And the light bulb humming
And the baby crying
In the flat below,
And my neurons abuzz
With mindless chatter
Non-stop chatter, flitting
From this to that, from thought
To feeling, from shapeless notion
To an idea taking form,
Taking up all my mindspace
And my mind craving quiet.
And quietness presses in
Opens her petals,
And the buzzing comes to
A dreaming halt
Drinking in the nectar
Of sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Original Poetry, City Sights, City Sounds, India, Night Sounds, Pune, Sleep
Mar 27, 2013 Uncategorized
Ire
©By Vijaya Sundaram
March 27th, 2013
Felt the pulsing glow
Of the rich, quick flow
Of blood to my ears.
But Anger, I fear,
Cannot win the day
So, I turn away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Original Poetry, Conquering anger, Ire
Mar 22, 2013 Uncategorized
Grail – A Poem
©By Vijaya Sundaram
March 22, 2013
I spend my days in
Walking,
Not winging.
Yearning,
Not learning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You spend your days in
Talking,
Not singing.
Weeping
Not leaping.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We spend our days in
Clocking time
Stinging,
Sneering,
Not spurring.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They spend their days in
Mocking,
Mud-flinging.
Jeering,
Not cheering.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And we seek, and we yearn
And we weep and we burn
And in circles we will turn
While we earn, earn, earn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just sing, don’t speak.
Just learn, don’t yearn.
Don’t sorrow for tomorrow.
Don’t weep, just sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Don’t mock, just cheer.
Just listen till you hear
For I’ll whisper in your ears
And I’ll wash away your tears.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Throw your hat in the air
Throw your scarf to the skies
Toss your bag to the ground
Toss your pride with your lies.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Throw your dreams away
Let them fall where they may.
Let them laugh while you play.
In the new-born day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here’s a puzzle and a knot,
The more you seek you’ll fail.
And if you use, and lose it not,
You’ll reach your holy grail.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Hope, #Original Poetry, #Sing, better tomorrow, Seek
Mar 21, 2013 Uncategorized
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legion, One – A Poem
©By Vijaya Sundaram
March 21, 2013
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How important
How very important
You believe you are, human!
You strut around, chest puffed out,
Dying by degrees, thinking this is life.
You reject and mock
Your neighbor or colleague
With a single statement.
With a curl of the lip,
Your sneer at and spurn your neighbor,
Your teacher, friend, stranger.
With the dismissive gesture,
You dash to the ground
All that your mother, your sister
Gave to you.
With the merest word, you crush
The memory of all
Your brother, or your father
Are to you.
Fattening on hate and fear,
Not knowing, not caring,
Not seeing that it is you.
It is you, you, dear one
Whom you crush underfoot,
Sneer at, mock, reject.
Fearing, dismissing, crushing,
You don’t see the faces
Of those you spurn.
And all the while, you yearn
To be understood, crooned to,
Cradled, sheltered, loved,
Healed, nursed back to yourself.
And all the while, you yearn
For that dream-world, asking
How come and wherefore
Has it not arrived, yet?
Stop! Stop! Stop!
I tell you!
Stop hating.
Stop fearing.
Stop envying.
Stop feeling less.
Start feeling more.
Feel more for
Your neighbor,
Your colleague,
Your friend, sister, brother
Father, teacher, mother.
Feel the same pain
We were born into.
Feel the same sorrow
We face every day.
Feel the despair
That lies, curled
At the very base
Of everyone’s souls.
And walk softly.
Tread softly, dear one.
Tread lightly, for it is
Your face that you tread
Upon, your face you seek
To obliterate.
And it is when you raise
Up your sister, brother, mother
Father, teacher, friend,
Neighbor, colleague, stranger,
Bathe their faces,
Wash their wounds,
Offer them kindness,
Marvel at their unique
Ineffable beauty, their grace,
And their anguished suffering,
It is then that you shall be free.
Know this,
For we are all legion.
But we are all one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Death, #Love, #Original Poetry, Despair, Eternity, Legion, Neighbor, Raise Up, We are all One, Words and Silence
Mar 20, 2013 Parenting/ Home-schooling / Family Music and other Notes
Playground Hour — A Poem
©By Vijaya Sundaram
March 20th, 2013
We were godlings for an hour.
Cold, cold air snapping at our ankles,
Obliging crunch of snow underfoot,
Nose smarting with arctic anticipation,
Ears aflame, feet double-socked, snow-boot shod,
Frame encased in layer upon layer
(A true New Englander now, twenty-four years gone),
I walked mitten-in-mitten with my girl
To the playground.
A pretty spaniel along the way,
Raced up and down her fence, ready to play,
A shy, timorous dog a little further on
Trembled and shook at our approach,
But suffered our soothing caresses,
Terrified of who-knew-what.
While his body was cradled by loving mistress
(“He’s always scared, we don’t know why,”
She explained, reassuringly.)
Perhaps, he sensed we were godlings.
On we went, my daughter and I
To the playground, where she and I
Were the sole owners of a blue-white space,
And the sun struggled in vain to light a void
At once dark-gray and summer blue,
A study in battling contradiction, with
Moon scudding past clouds on the left,
Sun sinking grandly on our right;
A sky-statement that promised warmth
But delivered empty light.
We godlings don’t mind.
We raced up and down the snow-crushed slides,
Fell backwards on crystallized snow,
Gazed up at the ringing sky,
Heard the heartbeat of the earth
For a few, still, silent moments
While six p.m. traffic, frantic and home-fixated,
Ebbed and flowed on a distant shore.
The earth hummed into our spines,
As the sky flowed away from our arms
Outstretched on the snow.
We were truly godlings, light-haloed.
Then, with sudden uprush of glee, we arose,
Startled the still air with our cries
And our crashing feet. Elemental,
We threw snowballs at each other.
Shrieks of joy from child,
Muttered imprecations from mother,
Fun on a swing, meeting the skies,
We played, snow-muted.
Then, alas! It was time to leave.
Our magic hour was up.
Time to resume human form.
Godlings have to deal with time, too.
“No! Let’s stay! Can’t we?” she said,
Sparking rebellious, but subsiding.
“I wish we lived here,” she sighed.
But, she came, obediently, hand in mine.
She knew we would play there again,
Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps all the days
Flowing through her childhood.
For she truly came from the Gods.
And I watch her grow, enchanted.
And so, homeward-bound, we tromped,
Watching the sky unfold
Into deepening layers of color.
And the distant Tower swam into view,
As we sloped, tilting earthward,
Down, down, down to where we lived,
Home, for dinner. How human!
But we were godlings for that hour.
And we shall be so, again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Childhood, #Mother and Daughter, #Original Poetry, Fun, Godlings, Play, Playground, Snow-games