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NAPOWRIMO – Day 2 [poem about place/time/space]

Three windows with blue and white-striped curtains, a box-bed with seven cushions and a purple satin bedcover red carnations, book shelves, an old cupboard, some centuries old artifacts – a room in a king’s two hundred years old summer palace a reading table made from the woods of a tree that must had been born in the forests of Ooty the Britishers had left, yet their buildings stand strong all around the corners of the Commercial Street, Charing Cross and all across the Nilgiris. The room has a door that leads to the garden, facing the mountains at a distance pristine mornings, clear blue afternoons, cold mystic nights, kind humans, cheerful children, a white cat and a black dog with croaking frogs and two lost owls perched on some nearby trees the silence of the mountains, and a scared city heart with the fear of the dark a darkness that lingers peacefully as the essence of nature… Sometimes languages differ and humans feel clau...
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NAPOWRIMO – Day 5 [Twenty Little Poetry Projects]

…she will be the sunflower a new born girl, in the centre of my brain conceived without a man, yet the touch of affection filled my heart, a feeling like movements of a hundred colossal pendulums the frozen silence in my thinking cerebellum forced me to take a walk through my limbic system, and it took me to a day when Aditi and I were strolling around the ancient walls of Angkor Wat we were laughing, and I said, I love sunflowers sister, they are so alive! I am nothing like her, she is science and I am humanities. In a serious tone she asked, what do you mean alive? The images of silent sunflowers stood in my mind and I wondered what to say: Sunflowers maintain homeostasis or that they pass traits onto the offspring, at that moment my lips whispered to me …she will never be your sunflower! I said aloud, sister I take back my idea of having a granddaughter named Sunflower… she looked away and observed those thousands of years ol...
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NAPOWRIMO – Day 3 [similar-sounding or rhyming words]

“I cannot live without you” a girl's voice caught my attention while I was crossing a busy road I could have left, but I was cleaning my sole which had stepped on a dead toad! Her voice was loud and clear, it pierced through the ears of passers-by hundreds of other middle-class hearts fluttered nearby… those word-waves were circling around an old broken theatre throwing away the corpse, I ordered tea with the artificial sweetener! The boy held her hands in gestures of embarrassment “…but I cannot live without you I wish to see your face each morning,” she said. She pleaded, she cried she scolded, she wanted to die! He looked passed her towards the open road running to and fro and the evening slowly engulfed the momentary show! Quite disappointed, I finished my tea and left it was time to retrospect in depth! For a daily wage earner what can be more fun? Since for us neither is the moon br...
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