Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Dog-Joy (Or: Completion)

Dog-Joy (Or: Completion)

©April 15th, 2014

By Vijaya Sundaram

 

I find I take delight

In my dog’s proud walk,

As she picks up a stick

And claims it in the

Name of Holly.

 

Utterly undone, I kneel,

As she twists her whole

Frame in wordless ecstasy

When she sees me —

This smiling curve of dog

And joyful tail,

And gentle teeth

That grab my hand

And nip and hold it in love

Beyond reckoning.

 

I am complete.

 

Who greets me like this?

(Oh, I know I am loved,

But like this? This pretzel-

Shaped frenzy of joy,

This luminous, numinous

Delight in my being?

Oh, I know I don’t deserve it,

But who cares?!)

 

And when she lies near me,

A love unlike no other,

Her soft, puppy fur

On my feet, warming them,

A wild presence at the

Boundaries of my own,

I find my brain

Dissolves in a mist

Of dog-thought.

 

I think:

Why dream?

Why do anything?

It doesn’t matter,

Not now.

 

Oh, I know I’ll arise

And go about my duties

And do stuff, but

I don’t really care

For any of it.

 

I have this dog,

This now-sleeping

Weight of dog

At my feet.

 

I am complete.

 

No, there is no despair here,

Just utter, total quiet

A settling, as it were,

Of soul and self:

A house settling deeper

Into earth.

 

I am complete

With her on my feet.

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Pinecone and Stick

Pinecone and Stick
©April 6th, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram

Walking, I gaze at the passing of things.
Inexplicably sad.
The sun shines.
A hollow gong sounds.
Heart beats
Dully, solidly.
Birds carol loudly.
Children play.
Dogs cavort.
Springtime blooms.
Silence reigns.
My mind listens with
Half an ear.
Beside me, a tail wags.
A smile curves the air.
A brief “woof” startles.
A stick becomes
A thing of desire.
A pine cone the apex
Of beauty, pride in possession.
A run home, two hearts pounding.
Two sets of legs, one biped
The other, quadruped
Fly over cement sidewalks
Race up the flight
Of stairs, all the way
Home.
Water lapped.
Water sipped.
Things settle.

Sadness meanders away,
Replaced by a pinecone and a stick
In the mouth of my pup.

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Devil Dog, Angel Pup

Devil Dog, Angel Pup

A Poem Celebrating Dogginess

By Vijaya Sundaram

February 28, 2014

 

Rolling black eyes, teeth snapping with a click,

Devil Dog entices with a pink-tongued lick.

 

Angel Pup, mop-top, furry-snug thing

You lure me when you start to sing.

 

It’s all music when you whistle high and sweet

I respond to your signal, and the clicking of your feet.

 

When you’re comfortably fed, your snout, warm and black,

So wet in my hand, says there’s nothing that I lack.

                                                                                               

You sigh that sigh of dog-in-its-place

The Universe shifts in a deep, dark space.

 

You snuggle, little ragamuffin warm and bright,

Claiming me as your own birthright.

 

Your trust in us, so simple and true

A human and her dog, that’s me and you.

 

And your sigh, which says that all is well

Fills this room with a flop-eared spell.

 

Time stands still, then begins once more,

The evening coalesces near the door.

 

And sudden, the humming fridge ceases to hum

And sudden, another sound starts to thrum.

 

A truck rumbles by, the highways sing

While soft falls the snow, and the quiet it brings.

 

The Great Outside where the unknown resides

Is blotted out now – and shunted aside.

 

But here, now, within, see – dog on my knee

This is peace, true peace, and it rests with me.

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