NaPoWriMo 2014

National Poetry Writing Month is a wonderful way to discover the poet in you! My attempts aren’t amazing poetry but writing has always been therapy, and writing poetry definitely is.


April 4, 2014 – Day 4

Today’s prompt was lunes – a variation on the haiku.


The woods spoke

to her in soft whispers

of the past.

April 5, 2014 – Day 5

Today’s challenge was to write a “golden shovel.” This form was invented by Terrance Hayes in his poem, The Golden Shovel. The last word of each line of Hayes’ poem is a word from Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem We Real Cool.

My poem, “Eternal” is based on First Fig by Edna St. Vincent Millay. The last word of each line of my poem is a word from First Fig. You can read Millay’s poem by reading the last word of each line of my poem!


The root of my

existence is as a candle

when lit, burns

endlessly, at night and at

day – both.

All ends

of the world it lights up, it

will keep burning, it will

not  extinguish, not diminish, it will last.

It is God I speak of, the

Omniscient, Omnipresent. At night,

when I look at the skies, the stars but

herald something in their twinkle. Ah!

with delight, I realise He is there with me, my

feelings are with Him – my foes,

 He knows, and,

gives me strength. Oh,

Lord, you are my

Guide, Helper, my Friends,

all in one being. Your presence, it

is not seen, but it gives,

me the remembrance of a world, a

universe beyond. It is lovely,

to have faith in You – You are my Friend, my Guiding Light.

Here is First Fig by Edna St. Vincent Millay:

My candle burns at both ends;

It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—

It gives a lovely light!

April 6, 2014 – Day 6


Delicate, ethereal, ever-changing,

tufts of clouds sail by,

across the sky,

remembrance of an ever-changing world,

which yet stands still.

Like a clock, the world, it changes,


But outside, it remains still,

while the clouds, in their own luxury,

change, alter, move, recede,

at their own will.

Today’s (optional) prompt: Observing nouns, colours, verbs, which you can see from your window, jumble them up to create poetry.


 April 7, 2014 – Day 7


Sunbeams filter through onto your leaves,


Your leaves sway to the rhythm,

of the soft breeze.

Your green is an emerald green,

your fragrance,


You and I shall die one day,

but your presence shall linger,

in the same spot – 

Maybe, I will too.

Today’s prompt was a love poem, but the object should be inanimate. The object of my poem is my neem tree!

April 8, 2014 – Day 8

The child

One child jumps,

strolls, twirls around,

in the freedom of his age,

skips about, dreaming,

of fantasies, castles and beanstalks.


The other child glumly looks

from his circular vision,

onto the tarred road,

from under a car,

repairing, sweating,

licking his lips to get it just right.


Seldom does he think,

 of a fantasy world,

seldom does he dare to escape,

from the confines of his own.

The other child can only think,

of his own home,

his mother, waiting.


The child can traipse in fields,

give free reign to his heels,

catch butterflies,

and let out happy cries.


The other child, won’t.

In his misery, he might give a smile,

or two.

But he won’t think of dreams,

of beanstalks, castles, fantasies.


He looks on,

from his circular vision,

onto the tarred road,

from under a car,

repairing, sweating,

licking his lips to get it just right.

Prompt: Today, let’s rewrite a famous poem, giving it our own spin. 

I chose the poem ‘Caged Bird’ by Maya Angelou.

April 9, 2014 – Day 9


Often it is to see,

the stars lit,

but not twinkling as brightly.

April 10, 2014 – Day 10

 As smooth as silk,

as soft as velvet,

are not just similes,

but hair that’s been treated,

with the shampoo- Fir Trees! 

Today’s prompt – write an advertisement-poem.


April 11, 2014 – Day 11

Today’s prompt was to write an Anacreontic. Here I am with an attempt at its technical features but with poor content, having no love for wine-and-love poems.


The birds are not meant to be,

Think of the cacophony.

They are here to add to life

With their songs in times of strife,

Chirping, twittering, sweetly,

That they are here, meant to be.

April 12, 2014 – Day 12


Nothing is as it seems,

In life’s happy sunbeams,

For the glare which you face,

Once you turn towards the glaze,

Can leave you blind.



April 13, 2014 – Day 13 


A bird was perched on its helipad,

Calling out to the sea-green sphere,

The azure shelter above a spectator.


It spoke of joy in its melody,

Of a baby butterfly as its meal,

Of misery as invisible gases,

Wreak havoc across its home.


The bird was lonely,

Its next generation,

Was off into the sky. 


It could only hope,

For someone to lend an ear,

To its continuous chirp,

Its ode to life.

Today’s prompt was to use kennings, metaphorical phrases developed in Nordic sagas. Here, I’ve tried to invent my own.


April 14, 2014 – Day 14 

Twenty Questions

Any ode for the matyrs?

Any thought for the bullet-riddled body?

A tear or two, maybe?

Any cry for help for their families?

Don’t they deserve a shoulder to scream?

Don’t they wish to scream, scream out their anguish?


Let’s think of the homeless, shall we?

They deserve a roof, don’t they?

Don’t they seek more than their penny a day?

Why not a few thoughts for them too?

Why not a conference for their plight?

Why not a dinner for their charity?


What about those who went missing?

Whoever took them away?

One thought for them too?

A bill signed for them too?

Why not a court trial for them too?

Why not the paparazzi for them too?


Any answer for those who can’t laugh like you do?

Any relief for those who can’t smile like you do?

Only the reverberating silence, the insipid, insolent, indifference.

Today’s prompt: “Twenty Questions.” The idea is to write a poem in which every sentence, except for the last one, is in the form of a question.



April 15, 2014 – Day 15 


I crossed the bridge, and on I walked.

The sky above was an azure blue,

The birds twittered, and the dead leaves crackled.


The world was quiet that day,

Not a soul in sight,

Only nature could skip into the play.


I walked on still, and the day changed into the night.

Today’s prompt: Write a poem in terza rima.

April 16, 2014 – Day 16

x I haven’t been able to continue because of upcoming exams.Thank you for visiting my blog 🙂 x



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