May 19, 2017 Original Poetry
Dramatic Play
©May 19th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
When a child falls down,
And you cannot catch him,
How do you restore trust?
Not to fear, says his mother
He’s a child. He will forget.
Look! He’s running around.
He’s not hurt. He’ll forget, you’ll see.
You nod and feel comforted, briefly.
Then it hits you, and you think
Ah, but you see, I cannot.
A child’s tears are liquid thorns
That catch your skin.
You can pull out sadness,
But you bleed.
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Tags: #ChildFallsDown, #DramaticPlay, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram
May 16, 2017 Climate Change is Real!, Original Poetry
Dinner on Flamingo Plate
©May 16th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Today, I ate off a ceramic plate.
Vibrant with life, the head and beak
Of a flamingo dipping into water
For food on the plate
Caught me by surprise.
I dipped my spoon into the bowl
On the plate, with the dipping flamingo.
I felt one-legged and long-beaked.
A rooster strutted, in several squares,
Above the kitchen sink,
And a jug with a bird-beak spout
Filled with gurgling water,
When we stood there, carrying
Things out to the garden table.
A Portuguese water-dog stood
Silent, attentive, ready to hunt
Under the garden table,
While we humans above it
Spooned bean soup made by our host,
Talked about Climate Change,
And ate the spiced vegetable pulao that
I’d brought as an offering.
We discussed environmental bills
And legislative matters, wrapping
Our heads around abstruse matters
Like a turban around an impenetrable skull.
But the flamingo peered at me
All the while, one interested eye
Arresting my crab-wise attention.
And that beak was the bill I read.
I dipped my spoon into the soup-bowl
On the plate, with its dipping flamingo.
I felt one-legged and long-beaked.
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May 15, 2017 Original Poetry
A Seeing Thing
©May15th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Sunlight falls, green and wet, among the branches,
Settles like a sigh on rain-damp earth and brick,
Glows, incandescent, for a moment, as clouds
Reveal a forgotten sky and breath of air.
Rusty blackbird flies in to perch and pick seeds
From a sodden bird-feeder close to empty.
A reddish bird preens and fans tail on slender branch
My dog growls, twirling in the other room.
The Japanese maple spreads her leaves like fire
Burning low in the hearth, full of wooded light.
Ferns, tender and green and ancient, spread their fans.
And I sit, a seeing thing, empty of thought.
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May 14, 2017 Original Poetry
Out of the Nothing That Was
©May 14th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
First, the hum of mind.
Next, the sound of want.
Then, comes the desiring
The yearning and the seeking,
And the spinning of a Self
Into another, holding
Yet another spool of self
To be spun into newness.
And, out of the silent blood-dark,
A being spins into shape.
And out of the Nothing that was,
Comes forth everything that is now
Which, lying curled within the dark –
A intention, a shifting shape,
A spinning into glowing life,
Holds the heart of sun-and-shadow.
Out of the brooding blood-dark,
Comes a mind, a stirring, a shape,
An abstract intention, a life.
Conscious, attentive, focused,
Glowing with light and impatience,
Composed of disparate cells,
Fusing together for a purpose,
All filled with intention,
We grow into our spinning selves,
Cocooned in a crooning hum.
I think, and thank my mother now.
I think, and thank my daughter too.
And, too, I thank my grandmother,
Also, her mother, and her mother,
All the way back to the blood-start
Of everything, when, a-sparking
Out of the Nothing that wasn’t,
Came forth the Everything that is.
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Tags: #Metaphorical poem, #Mothers'Day, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram
May 13, 2017 Original Poetry
Undoing Penelope
©May 13th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
So many shimmering threads,
So many interwoven lines,
You weave them all together,
And then undo them all,
As you wait for your beloved,
Lost to you for twenty years.
Why undo yourself, when
You’ve spent a whole life
Making up the pattern
Of this, your cloth?
All this hard work, this love,
Your vigilance, your loyalty,
All these for your beloved,
Gone in an instant,
When you pull out those
Shimmering threads of gold
And purple, and blue and green,
Like sunset over the Aegean?
Are you waiting for the one
Who will make you whole again
And who is that?
Is he sailing from the east
Or riding from the west
Or blowing from the north,
Or floating in from the south.
And what if he had not been
Entrapped and turned into
A boar, or not held enraptured
By a seductress on a lonely isle?
And what if he had not fallen asleep
At the sail, and had the wild winds
Loosed by his jealous, drunken men?
Where would you be, or your story?
There is no one, nowhere.
It is you, yourself, alone, undeterred,
Who will stitch up those ends
Tie those knots, weave that scarf,
Arise from this pointless mourning,
This indolence, this matyrdom.
Your making of yourself
Is the unmaking of yourself.
Around you, mirrors abound
And smoke obscures your vision.
Do you care about the ending?
Why undo this scarf you’ve woven,
Why deny yourself your pleasure
In this beautiful work, your art,
When it could be your shroud?
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Tags: #GreekMythology, #Metaphorical poem, #OdysseyReference, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Penelope
May 9, 2017 Original Poetry
Redux
©May 9th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
You remember how every drop of rain
Every song, every tune, and every refrain
Felt like a rush of blood, and delight and pain,
Now, ensconced in calm, you want it all again.
The paradox of peace is the paradox
Of happiness; for it’s a Pandora’s box
Looking pretty on the shelf with golden locks
But within lies a lifetime of broken clocks
And each ticked a day, a year, eternity.
And each broke down and lost its utility.
The roles people played had some nobility.
Through it all, you saw their true ability.
Open that box, throw out all the clocks, and dance.
Catch that sunlight, drink that rain and take a chance.
Find that gladness, find that pain, and make a stance.
You can do it all again, and still advance!
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May 8, 2017 Original Poetry
Train Calling
©May 8th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Your skin creases, spots appear, and time pulses
Like a slowing heart.
And Age approaches, a train that rounds the bend
Far away, then near.
And it all began with a heartbeat in love
Or in throbbing fear.
Tumbling like a diamond in the velvet dark,
A life has its start.
And life begins – learning, doing, and being,
Romance, losses, grief.
School and home, and friendships that bloom within hope,
Leap, though hurdles loom.
Prizes, applause, accolades, and success,
Trophies for the tomb.
There is nothing to take here, nothing at all,
Even what we make.
And memories, crowding round like ghosts in a dream,
Jostle for place here.
See that train come around the bend, now screaming?
Should I let it go?
If all here is maya, all is illusion,
Why does this hurt so?
And if the train’s an illusion as well
Why’s its call so clear?
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May 7, 2017 Original Poetry
Coils of Dreaming
©May 7th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Coiled upon itself, a memory
Buried in a myth, seen in a dream,
The snake slept, tail in mouth.
All that’s happened will happen again,
For the first time, over and over,
And each will be the last.
Amidst this coiling, is the roiling
Of war and peace, outrage and courage,
New beings emerging.
Will we ever see the snake sleeping
Coiled upon itself, always dreaming,
Or will we stab its dream?
And will we uncoil this dreamer’s rest,
And wrest from it the jewel in its head
And when it dies, will we?
We will coil and roil, toil and despoil.
All that came before, will come again.
We shall return, always.
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Tags: #EternalSnake, #Myth-Dream, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Ouroboros
May 6, 2017 Original Poetry
Benediction
©May 6th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
The close of the day comes
From the hill-tower,
Lingers at our kitchen window
Hungry for warmth, for sustenance.
The day’s-end trails purple darkness.
The sky is silent now, after
A long outburst of light.
This is a message.
Fragrant basmati, kadi-patta
Green-chilli, tofu-pyaaz-palak,
Fills our breath, swirls from
Steaming food on our plates.
Clear water to cool our tongues,
Books in our hands, sharing words.
These are gifts.
Between two pillars of rain,
Came a window of blue and gold,
And I walked the dog, earlier.
I was simply there, empty –
An ambulating, seeing thing,
Walking another seeing being.
We saw, we walked, enveloped
In our cocoon of dog-human-ness.
This is a mystery.
Yes, I have striven, wept blood,
I have raged and fought, resisted untruth,
I have known sorrow, and crippling loss,
I have known doubt – so much doubt, clouding
My brain like unending fog –
And even now, as I am lifted
Out of myself, in the simple
Fact of being here, now,
I face myself, and ask this :
Why must I strive anymore?
Will striving lead to strife?
The answer lies in the question.
This is foolishness.
I want to wander among the indolent ones,
In the land of the lotos-eaters.
I care not for busy-ness, achievement.
I will lay me down here, on the mossy banks
Of this river of forgetfulness,
And dream of getting lost, forever.
This is a dream.
The last light fades quietly, slipping
Through cracks in the sky,
My family and I read our books,
Fragrant food put away.
I am satiated, the doubts quiet, for now.
This is satisfaction.
They go upstairs, begin playing guitar.
Music drifts down, and pulls me upwards –
Another struggle, another world, but sweet,
So sweet this struggle, full of promise!
I shall put this away now. Music calls.
I am tired, and the night is gentle.
Sleep will come tonight, and I will
Welcome her with unresisting eyes.
This is a benediction.
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Tags: #benediction, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Satisfaction, #Striving
May 5, 2017 Original Poetry
Rain-Illusions
©May 5th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Rain lingers past its welcome.
Yet, there’s sweetness here.
Flowers, rain-bright and purple,
Amass like an army of dreamers
On the lilac-trees at the foot
Of our precipitous garden.
Birds sing hopefully, wet-feathered,
But fat with worm-feast.
The dog goes walking with me –
The rain is in abeyance now –
And we pass a dead rabbit,
Thrown unceremoniously
Into a clump of someone’s
Grape-hyacinths and tender tulips.
She pulls towards it, sniffs,
I pull away from it, oddly moved.
It was once alive, vibrant with fleetness,
Now, it’s a flat caricature of itself.
My dog’s curious, but not ravenous.
Good thing, too!
I see everything through a mist,
Vision like that of a wind-shield
With no wipers, a water-colour world:
People walking by as I head homeward,
The occasional dog with focused owner,
Cars, insulated space-ships on a mission,
People’s front yards, evidence of pride.
Life is tender, fragile, pointless at times,
And at other times, too sharp to bear.
And Spring brings tears,
Unbidden, they spring;
Once more, the rain begins
And we hurry home.
Silently, our lilacs greet us
With sweetness, a swooning
Home-coming, an illusion of hope.
I will not question this.
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Tags: #Illusions, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #SpringReflections, #WalkingwithDog