So, I joined the Airplane Poetry Movement, mid-April, for this year. It involves writing 100 poems in the whole year which is great. The fact that I get to write is a good part, the better deal is reading amazing poetry by some wonderful voices.

April is the month of Poetry as well, so the NaPoWriMo challenge was in full swing when I joined midway. Written below are all the poems that I wrote in response to the prompts received (about 13 I think)! Promise to myself to keep the blog updated and my disappearances minimal!

#15 (write on nothing prompt)

I enter a world 
full of challenges
to an introduction of nothing.
It pleases me
It is the way I see the world
It is who I am. 
By and by I will gain something. 
And restore everything.

#16 (Write a letter from the last thing you threw away to the last thing you purchased prompt)

Hello there, you bowl of boring fruits
Hope the day is treating you right,
And you are being savoured
And not left in the platter with fleas
Buzzing around you, while
The kids…

The Household

The Household  In the realm of the household wreckage needs to be fixed almost every other day, when a washing machine breaks down or when the purifier calls it a day quite so often the pipes leak, often enough the hot water has its elemental problem and when all is fixed, restored, controlled, and you think works done, the wreckage of human life need repair.


What bothers me most is time. What is it? All it does is pass. Why can't we hold on to it? Would we want to hold on to it? Isn't it wondrous, the constant alterations, sometimes upheavals it causes in our lives. Should it be celebrated? Yes. It is our only true companion during this journey in our world. Seasons change and we understand time has moved on. It has changed us. We can't feel it, we can't see it, we don't hear it, yet we sense it, mapped in our faces. Without it, our journey, wouldn't be a journey at all. Who would keep time? Who would know our beginning, our end, our meaning, our story?

Time you mean the most, you are the constant the witness to my life I exist within your books, from start to finish, and you will retell my story when the time is right. 
In constant worship, here is an attempt, in Hindi, to say what i feel i may never understand (and while i finally confess my immaturity, it's incomprehensibility befuddles me so much that unde…

Love Poems

past the proclaimed day of love.....
lasts the warmth of love......

and therefore a few poems written in the recent past, for all my loved ones and everyone still in love post valentine's fervour......

If love could be spelt out
I'll douse my words in cliches, my sentences with repetitions, the thoughts heard of before, meanings that create no imagery, a bland poetry. In an attempt to say  something worthy, I'll sound like a fumbling idiot, But I'll put myself through  all that ridicule because when i get down to  parting the world, there is the whole world inviting but blue and then there is you.

When 'She' Loves
She love enough to do things with eyes shut mind stalled.
She sees not the follies, nor the bargains, nor the machinations.
She ponders not later on the benefits gained from hindsight but continues the same way for she simply loves.
She is blamed, named, silly, stupid, unworthy But learn to forgive her for that is the only way  she has learnt to be.
Settling down
All you want to…
In defense of a break up
There is something you need to know, child. There are equal parts of everything in this world. Benevolence and malevolence, in nature and measured equally in the friend you think you know. Everyone will protect their own first. You may feel alone. Hanging on too long on hope and on the silver lining will make you miss all the rainbows behind the cloud next door. But chasing rainbows is Not what we live for. There is thunder, there is winter And then you encounter spring. There are forest fires and earthquakes, balanced by snow drenched scenes and white beaches, lasting friendships and conversations over drinks. Feed your soul what is thirsts for what it is truly after – life - give in to this adventure, and make only a few things matter, a hot cup of tea with a bedside book
And a good nights sleep.
Sigh, sometimes.... most times.... okay, nearly every time it happens. I feel like writing and I get distracted. It is always easier to blame the external forces but it my own fear, my inhibitions, my laziness and indiscipline that come in the way of my getting any writing done. This one is mostly on the external distractions that like I said are easier to blame.

What do you do?
What do you do?
When words are trying to make their way out, trying to say something at the wrong time, when you are in the shower scrubbing yourself clean of yesterday.
Or when your notepad and pen are in another room, or when the children have a crazy demand or an unresolved fight, or you are thanklessly engaged in a familiar familial need.
When the words compete against the pinging phone and a choice has to be made  
whether to savor this moment of visit or        to flingthe words in the bed of your soul in the hope of something worthy growing someday and answer the phone, rote and routine smiling thereafter, thinking t…

मेरे घर का पौधा मुझसे कहता.......

Hello! It was fun to discover that I could actually write the thoughts that I had in Hindi in Hindi!! So I jotted down what I was then thinking into these lines and well, it was fun. And somewhere along the way I lost my train of thought and out slipped the poem!! Disaster. Although it is not the first time I have attempted writing in Hindi, I might need to keep working on Hindi grammer.

Also, whenever I rethink on this topic, I will perhaps edit and re-publish this one again. So this one remains a thought-in-progress.

मेरे घर का पौधा मुझसे कहता.......

हर रोज़ गुज़र जाती

मुँह मोड़ के यूँही

न पानी, न ख़ुराक़ देती

मुरझाए हुए को मुरझाया छोड़, ऐसे जैसे

किसी और की हो ज़िम्मेदारी।

बातें होती है, फ़िज़ाओं की

दूर देश के हवाओं की

मोह लेने वाले नज़ारों की

हरी भरी नदियों की;

क्या फायदा,

अपने आँगन को सूना छोड़

पेैडो के छाओं पे मन ललचाने की।