Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Songs I love

“Small Blue Thing” by Suzanne Vega

This song blew me away when I first heard it.  I wished (and still wish) that I had written it.  Her songwriting, guitar-playing, music and tone of voice are (dare I use this word?) perfect.

Suzanne Vega is probably the most elegant, concentrated, delicate and literate among songwriters, whether female or male.

I am, and will always be, a fan.  And I am hard to please.

“Lullaby for an Anxious Child” by Sting

I heard this song a couple of years ago or so.  It made me cry.  Sting is … my absolute favorite contemporary male songwriter, musician, singer, performer.  His imagination and musical taste are impeccable.

Thank you for listening!

Love,

Dreamer of Dreams

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Poem for a mother-to-be

Today, I attended a dear colleague/friend’s baby shower.  This made me quite sentimental, and I remembered my own, given by colleagues and friends at school.  When people reminded me to write a poem for her, after she read out my (non-poetic) card, I said I would do so.  And I did.  Right away!  (Wish I could say that for everything else I say I’ll do!)

In any case, here it is:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For Joanna, With Love

As Promised, A Mom-Babe Poem!

©By Vijaya Sundaram

Feb. 28th 2013

Deep within, life is shaping itself

Into a little, magic being,

Perfect, because she’s yours,

Beautiful, because you are bearing her,

Complete in herself, and

Completing you and your true love.

And you, the mother, will watch

And learn how to be a new you.

You’ll count her fingers and toes,

Touch her little nose,

Kiss her cheeks of rose,

As the hours come and go.

You’ll trace the down on her cheeks

While you read Goodnight Moon.

You’ll try every ruse and trick

To lull her to sleep.

Time enough for that!

Her bright eyes will seem to say.

You’ll jerk awake at the least cry,

Or gurgle, or sigh, or changed breath.

Alert, ready to face insomnia,

You’ll nurse and nod wearily,

Actions automatic and altruistic,

While you drown in somnolence.

At three a.m., you’ll unwrap

A popsicle, driven mad by thirst,

Eat a sandwich, with her in your baby-wrap.

Knowing *every breath you take

And every move you make

She’ll be watching you.*

Glaring maniacally at the clock

Rocking the baby in your arms,

You’ll mutter all the rhymes

From all the baby books you have

And your voice will lull you to sleep,

While she smiles at nothing at all.

And she’ll gurgle and wave her arms

Tracking, with attentive eyes,

Those sweet, strange bubbles of light

Which she alone will see.

And then you’ll see with your intent gaze.

The light of all her baby-days.

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(* with apologies to The Police / Sting, for stealing some of Sting’s words there!)