A journey called napowrimo

It is a trip

I usually don’t miss

visiting new places

breaking bread with strangers

forging new bonds

meeting old friends

and coming back home

with a wagon full of precious memories

but now I am exhausted

need to rest my quill

to drink in refreshing words n verses

as I gather thoughts anew!



And last but not least, now for our final prompt for this year! I’d like you to try your hand at a minimalist poem. What’s that? Well, a poem that is quite short, and that doesn’t really try to tell a story, but to quickly and simply capture an image or emotion. Haiku are probably the most familiar and traditional form of minimalist poetry, but there are plenty of very short poems out there that do not use the haiku form. There’s even an extreme style of minimalism in the form of one-word and other “highly compressed” poems. You don’t have to go that far.








r a i n d r o p s


Today, I’d like to challenge you to produce a poem that meditates, from a position of tranquility, on an emotion you have felt powerfully.


We have been friends for quite sometime

I don’t remember exactly

when you quietly slipped

your fingers through mine

but Loneliness, it took me

a long time to accept you

when memories hanging from

broken lampshades and upturned stools

threatened to unravel me

you came to my rescue

sitting by my bedside

as I feverishly trembled

at being abandoned

you helped to remove the

cobwebs of relationships,

wiped clean the slate of love

and helped build a fence around my heart

soothing me with soft murmured words

I realise now, with you in my embrace

I don’t need anyone.

The birth of a poem

Today I’d like to challenge you to try your hand at a meta-poem of your own.

The birth of a poem

Sometimes an idea flits across
like a butterfly

in my hurry to capture it

I end up damaging its ethereal wings

sometimes in the middle of a chore

the ubiquitous bulb lights up

I drop everything

as I grab my phone

sometimes during my walk

I hear a susurration, a whisper

I chant it feverishly, afraid to lose it

sometimes a tune is like an earworm

playing on and on

till I release it

on a clean sheet of paper

sometimes words gush out of my pen

as if a floodgate has been breached

refusing to be contained

sometimes I have to use

all my persuasive powers to plead

with the elusive expression

which wallows in wilderness

sometimes a thought

hits like a sledgehammer

leaving me dazed

with its forcefulness

sometimes a spoken word, a written phrase

triggers a barrage of outpouring

difficult to stem

sometimes injustice does not let me sleep

till bloodshot eyes have wept

crimson words of regret

sometimes blood and gore

leave me shaking and shivering

and the shaky handwriting

steadies my wobbly world

sometimes seething white hot anger

shapes each word with precision

sometimes a gurgle

of innocent laughter or a genuine smile

brightens my day

and it is there for all to see

sometimes a forgotten memory

nudges the fingers

to reclaim its place

to be recorded for posterity

sometimes a conversation

sparks creativity which is so original

sometimes a night of passion

seeps a bit into the open

despite my inept effort to keep it under wraps

sometimes what could be

fills me with wistful longing

daydreaming that distant dream


oh well! each baby is different

and decides to be born in her own way!

Doffing my hat to the Bard

Today I’d like to challenge you to “remix” a Shakespearean sonnet. You can pick a line you like and use it as the genesis for a new poem. Or make a “word bank” out of a sonnet, and try to build a new poem using the same words (or mostly the same words) as are in the poem. Or you could try to write a new poem that expresses the same idea as one of Shakespeare’s sonnets.

Doffing my hat to the Bard

O! how I faint when I of you do write

So all my best is dressing old words new

The perfect ceremony of love’s rite

Incapable of more, replete with you!

You should live twice,–in it, and in my rhyme

Since all alike my songs and praises be

When in the chronicle of wasted time

Those lines that I before have writ do lie!

Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth

To speak of that which gives thee all thy might

Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth,

Why is my verse so barren of new pride!

Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain,

Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.

(This entire sonnet is made up of lines from various sonnets by Shakespeare. I had thought it would be easy but I have been toiling for hours reading and picking suitable lines! If you like it, you know who gets the credit, if it is lacking in any way, you can lay the blame squarely at my door!)

Revolutionary ( a pantoum)

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that uses repetition. You can repeat a word, or phrase. You can even repeat an image, perhaps slightly changing or enlarging it from stanza to stanza, to alter its meaning. There are (perhaps paradoxically) infinite possibilities in repetition.


Sitting in a dark room under a dim bulb
Plotting a revolution
Feverishly fiery verses he did sculpt
Looking for absolution

Plotting a revolution
A one man army with a mighty pen
Looking for absolution
Writing incendiary verses to arouse men

A one man army with a mighty pen
So puny against avarice and crassness
Writing incendiary verses to arouse men
But losing to the indifferent masses

So puny against avarice and crassness
Feverishly fiery verses he did sculpt
But losing to the indifferent masses
Sitting in a dark room under a dim bulb.

Child woman

A veritable livewire

a cornucopia of ideas

ranging from wacky to bizzare

mind abuzz with

a thousand pranks

mercurial temperament

disdain for rules but

mostly toeing the line

a deep-rooted restlessness

a yearning forever

always in a hurry

yet the laziest of the lot

loving and giving

following errant heart

she is a child woman

with a world weary soul.

(For a dear friend)