Friday, April 12, 2019


I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2019. 30 Poems in 30 Days is the target.

The Day 12 Prompt for #NaPoWriMo is to write a poem about a dull thing that you own, and why (and how) you love it. Alternatively, what would it mean to you to give away or destroy a significant object?

Often, what might seem dull to you may not be so in eyes of others. and vice versa. In that context, I divide the world into two - between readers and non-readers. While the readers value the bookmarks, the other group will find it boring and insignificant.

Haven't we all faced this before?

I will offer you a cake
and some cookies too really fast
but don't chew the bookmarks
if you're hungry, just ask

you care not for their existence
but they do matter to me
I might have collected a dozen
with one inside each book I read

you think they are dull
sombre pieces of cut paper
you blabber about their futility
testing patience of fellow readers

but how would you know
the magic that they possess
books were never your companion
their power you can not guess

thus, don't spoil the bookmarks
else stories might no longer flow
you would be lost tracking the pages
the reading, thus, tiresome, slow

Share with

Thursday, April 11, 2019


I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2019. 30 Poems in 30 Days is the target.

The Day 11 Prompt for #NaPoWriMo is to write a poem of origin. I pondered over the idea for a while. Our origin is our identity. It defines who we are and how we are. But isn't this definition changing with time? We grow and adapt ourselves to various situations, walking on various paths. Origin, I feel, is evolution, as in we are creating ourselves every single day.

down the laid back streets
sprinkled in dusts that shine
trying to figure out the traces
I take one step at a time

these roads have been walked before
there are footprints all around
some big, few small, rest all vague
my path urges me to a distant mound

there're perhaps a thousand leaves
bunched together as a brownish lot
rummaging through the pile, I discover
the mound is not what I had thought

the leaves are but a diary
they are the pages from my past
listed are my ups and downs
how I tripped, and yet I did last

there are leaves that drip with tears
oh, how those days now appear so near
some in the pile highlight my mistakes
and how I crossed my share of fears

in a corner I see a greener bunch
the leaves looking fresh and bare
no, they hold no marks, nor any stories
it is upon me to fill those layers

where would I go, what is my 'next'
I have been evolving every since
we are born not just once
each passing day is our new origin

Shared with

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

Cats And Dogs

I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2019. 30 Poems in 30 Days is the target.

The Day 10 Prompt for #NaPoWriMo is to write a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon. I picked up an interesting phrase related to rainfall, and gave it an interesting twist.

Do read it in full screen :-)

'twas raining cats and dogs
a few of them falling on my porch
as I bent and picked up a kitten
a puppy got jealous, and I was smitten

I was stuck in a weird dilemma
"Can I keep them both, please Mama"
she nodded, refused, standing firm
"Sorry son, you can just keep one"

the puppy looked with pitied eyes
kitten mewed and stared at the skies
I didn't know what to choose
both of them were too damn cute

"Fine Mom, I keep the kitten
but tomorrow's your birthday, a gift's to be given
this puppy for you, a present from my side
look how pretty it is, black freckles on white"

she didn't refuse, and I was relieved
they were now mine, can you believe
the kitten was furry, licking my toes
I lifted the puppy and it kissed my nose

Shared with

Tuesday, April 09, 2019

Things That I'm Drawn To (Even Though I Try Not To)

I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2019. 30 Poems in 30 Days is the target.

The Day 9 Prompt for #NaPoWriMo is to engage in another kind of cross-cultural exercise, as it is inspired by the work of Sei Shonagon, a Japanese writer who lived more than 1000 years ago. She wrote a journal that came to be known as The Pillow Book. In it she recorded daily observations, court gossip, poems, aphorisms, and musings, including lists with titles like “Things That Have Lost Their Power,” “Adorable Things,” and “Things That Make Your Heart Beat Faster.” Today, the challenge is to write own Sei Shonagon-style list of “things.”

I decided to have some fun with the prompt, writing of things that one might be drawn too, unwillingly. We are all confused souls. However hard we may try not to chase something, the quicker it comes to us.


there are things that I am drawn to
even though I try, not to - 

like the fall of a cliff
and the echoing voices
darkness around the lamp
and solitude around noises

laughing at my fall
and all my passionate vices
still stuck in a loop
I'm a failure among choices

why am I still drawn to
those now defunct wishes
am I too weak to move on
sigh! her long dark lashes

Shared with

Monday, April 08, 2019


I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2019. 30 Poems in 30 Days is the target.

The Day 8 Prompt for #NaPoWriMo is to think about the argot of a particular job or profession, and see how you can incorporate it into a metaphor that governs or drives your poem. 

I decided to go with the frequently used jargon in corporate sector - Traffic, and brush it with a touch of romanticism.

let us be stuck in traffic
and the hours just speed by
may all routes be shut down
we're in no hurry to fly

amidst all the disturbances
our eyes would never lie
the world might come to a standstill
but, we're in no hurry to fly

Shared with

Sunday, April 07, 2019


I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2019. 30 Poems in 30 Days is the target.

The Day 7 Prompt for #NaPoWriMo is to write a poem of gifts and joy. What would you give yourself, if you could have anything? What would you give someone else?

There is an obvious answer to this question, which I feel is common to all. We live in a stressed environment, burdened by our demands and expectations. Where is the time to live our life, the way it should be lead? The best gift is not money, or fame, but living our life the way it's always meant to be lived - happily, relishing the gifts that it has to offer.

how many times do I complement
myself, pleased over my actions
not complaining, even once!

alas, I'm being too harsh
worrying about triviality
when indeed, life is a blessing

shouldn't I then celebrate
each day, month and year
granting myself all happiness

I do deserve a 'today'
lived on my own terms
with peace and health

and a prayer to drive away
all the anxieties that I'd
so long embraced

Shared with

Saturday, April 06, 2019


I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2019. 30 Poems in 30 Days is the target.

The Day 6 Prompt for #NaPoWriMo is to write a poem of the possible,that emphasizes the power of “if,” of the woulds and coulds and shoulds of the world.

Many a time we stop someone from doing something because of our concerns. That someone could be our family, or friend. It's good when we care for others, but if we are not alert, that care might cage them into a phobia. We should be more cooperative in such situations. Stopping our dear ones from pursuing their passion might have an adverse effect in all our lives.

you were miserably afraid
of the waves kissing your feet
panicking at every moment
when the water started to recede

urging me not to take you
near the tides churning the sea
you pleaded to be indoors
your voice, frighteningly dizzy

could it be 'cause of my warning
when as a child you jumped in the pool
I was scared you would be hurt
"No swimming unless 13"- I made the rule

I drove away your passion
unknowingly, replacing it with fear
only if I hadn't stopped you
can I ever forgive myself, dear

Shared with

Friday, April 05, 2019


I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2019. 30 Poems in 30 Days is the target.

The Day 5 Prompt for #NaPoWriMo is to write a poem that incorporates at least one of the following: (1) the villanelle form, (2) lines taken from an outside text, and/or (3) phrases that oppose each other in some way. I chose the first. The classic villanelle has five three-line stanzas followed by a final, four-line stanza. The first and third lines of the first stanza alternately repeat as the last lines of the following three-line stanzas, before being used as the last two lines of the final quatrain.

I have written poetry on social issues many a times. Today again, I have highlighted the need to channel one's enery and zeal while driving. I have seen many, specially the youngsters, trying to gain unnecessary accelaration and speed while riding motorbikes or driving cars. This can be very dangerous for themselves, as well as for the pedestrians. Speed should never be of utmost importance. It's the balance that one should focus upon. Don't risk your lives chasing few minutes of fake thrill. Life is too precious to be wasted in this fashion.

there was never ever a need
to be armed in fake pride
wish you'd checked your speed

you aimed to take the lead
be miles ahead of others, but
there was never ever a need

that day you're high indeed
no wonder, your sunken eyes
wish you'd checked your speed

a hundred times I did plead
"pull back, why this hurry"
there was never ever a need

they said, you didn't bleed
yet, the damage was within
wish you'd checked your speed

only if you had paid some heed
life's not to be wasted in misdeeds
there was never ever a need
wish you'd checked your speed

Shared with

Thursday, April 04, 2019


I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2019. 30 Poems in 30 Days is the target.

The Day 4 Prompt for #NaPoWriMo is to write a sad poem, but one that achieves sadness through simplicity. I have narrated a simple story which conjoins a mix of emotions - pride, joy and sadness. 

I watch you grow
my heart swells with pride
no longer faltering
you walk in steady strides

you learn new words
often leaving me surprised
you talk of dreams
and ambition side by side

someday, my son,
you would shine bright
I know 'cause you're smart
you'll do everything right

but am I wrong to admit
of being a little scared
you will build a world of own
will I find a place there

we will be in touch
our daily round of calls
but will I get to see
the bruises in your arms

or can I caress your hair
when you are down and low
you will no longer depend on me
your struggles, I wouldn't know

but to my friends I shall boast
stories of your success
hiding my share of sadness
seeing my bird leaving its nest

Shared with

Wednesday, April 03, 2019


riding in comfort
the seat-belt tucked in
waiting for the lights
to finally turn green

the car behind honks
meaningless, as in
the traffic wouldn't budge
until the lights turn green

you notice the counter
the seconds diminishing
a child walks up to you
before the lights turn green

he knocks at the window
selling pens, too keen
you turn your gaze away
when will the lights turn green

he pleads on and on
hoping to be seen
but poverty is invisible
neither red, nor green

frustrated by his nagging
you finally give in
you pull out your wallet
and the lights turn green

your dilemma is over
no, that boy had never been
you press down the accelerator
pleased, the lights are now green

the boy walks back to pavement
in hunger, thin and lean
the traffic lights too disobey
for him, they never turn green

I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2019. 30 Poems in 30 Days is the target.

The Day 3 Prompt for #NaPoWriMo is to write a piece that involves a story or action that unfolds over an appreciable length of time. I have attempted narrating a chain of events that occur in a short span of a minute, but even the minutes turn slower here. Time, after all, is relative. A minute might seem too soon when it's inviting. Again, it could trudge with lots of efforts when we really wish it to fly away faster.

Shared with

Tuesday, April 02, 2019

The Doll

it just had one eye
possessed a single ear
it was grounded in dirt
and yet she held it dear

this doll was her favorite
even though she had more
she didn't care for others
it never left her bored

she gave it names
combed its wrinkled hair
washed it with soap
and dried in sunlit stairs

she returned an hour later
then shocked, a rueful cry
the doll was nowhere to be seen
it didn't even bade goodbye


a few miles ahead
his panting growing heavy
yet the boy had a smile
today, his sister would be happy

she had just turned two
while he himself marched to eight
their slum could afford no more
but could he keep blaming his fate

"this is for you, a gift,"
he handed the doll to his sister
she yelled in joy, crying
"Wow! you are the best brother"

the doll, looked, mute
wondering through the night
was this unfair to previous owner
or did the brother do right

Shared with

Monday, April 01, 2019


you can watch it grow
taking shape as you bow
blossoming in full
no, there aren't any rules

sunlight would be good
but it's the warmth it prefers
you can talk to it daily
the opinions wouldn't differ

don't go for manuals
your heart would know better
let the bond speak for itself
the petals inching nearer

the beauty that it beholds
a pristine gift of nature
the flowers bloom all around
announcing spring, in leisure

Shared with