GloPoWriMo 2019: 18/30

Today’s prompt asks me to describe loss or grief, as best as I can through poetry.

The Laundry

I give five pieces of clothing,
Reflective of my wardrobe, it’s an eclectic bunch,
That things are about to go wrong,
I have absolutely no hunch.
I’ve heard the horror stories,
The loss of recently purchased clothes,
I’m dismissive, and condescending,
This will never happen to my laundry, I suppose.
Except one week later, when I come back,
There’s five pieces of clothing, but
Two, I don’t recognize, I feel attacked.
There’s a blue one missing,
And a pink one too,
I question the launderer,
He doesn’t have a clue.
There’s no way for him to make good the loss,
Even if he compensates me,
There’s no way to measure the actual cost,
The cost of heartbreak,
And faded memories,
Never again to be worn,
More crucially,
Never to smell like my own cologne.

GloPoWriMo 2019: 16/30

Today’s prompt challenges me to write a list to defamiliarize the mundane.

Writing Instrument

The complexity of what I hold for 5 hours, at minimum, amuses me.
At once, an accessory, and a utility tool,
With the ability to spark a battle, or end a war.
The ability to put people to sleep, and wake people up, unkindly, when used with a bit of saliva in someone’s ear.
With the choice of writing in multiple colours, and multiple tongues.
How does one choose a writing instrument?
How, and who decides when one moves from a younger version of a writing instrument – relying on the natural elements, to a more, artificial, sophisticated, writing instrument?
Why is this decision made?
At once, so expensive and inaffordable
But so necessary.


GloPoWriMo 2019: 15/30

Oho! Halfway. Today’s prompt asks me to write a play, or something that could be performed dramatically. I’ve decided to take a shot at a monologue. The setting for this is voting day.


Friends, acquaintances, and uncles & aunties,
And Good Evening,
You may wonder why I have interrupted your tea,
And why I am speaking,
You may also wonder why my voice is screechy,
And why I am so short,
I am fifteen years old,
An adult I am yet, not.
Your other questions will be answered soon,
Or maybe I’ll leave them unanswered,
Because that seems to be something adults enjoy doing,
So maybe that’s how I’ll get your attention.

Soon you will be given a chance to vote,
On who gets to govern this area, but also, in the grand scheme of things,
The country,
I will not be given this chance,
Because the elders decided that I would not mature till I was 18,
Or 21,
But you,
You have this chance,
So please take it.
Aunty, this isn’t like when nobody at home tells you what they want to eat,
So you choose for them all,
Uncle, here, has to make a decision,
And the decision may not affect you in the long-run,
Because your future is something in your control – in your present,
My future,
Apart from my board exam marks,
Also depends on what the people governing my country choose to do,
So please think of me,
And what’s best for me,
When you choose,
Because tomorrow,
I will have to make a similar choice,
And my experiences now will make my choice in the future.

GloPoWriMo 2019: 12/30

Today’s prompt asks me to talk about a dull thing that I own and why I love it.

Silver Pens 

I write with a silver fountain pen,
I’m not quite sure how I got it,
I think it was from my grandmother,
Who claims that she had “found” it,
It no longer has the sheen a new
Hero pen does,
But it writes just as smoothly,
The shaft is long,
And easy to grip,
And blue ink flows fluidly.
If I ever have to pick one piece of stationery,
I’d pick this pen, no doubt,
When I hold it, I feel like a royal man,
Born with a silver pen, and a silver spoon in his mouth.

GloPoWriMo 2019: 10/30

Today’s prompt challenges me to write a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon.

Extreme Temperatures

I cried to mum,
Not specifying what I couldn’t do,
Or why I couldn’t do it,
Just stating that it couldn’t be done,
And so, depending on circumstance,
My mother whipped up Rooh Afza,
We turned on the AC in my room and closed the door,
Or, ended up with a razai over our entire bodies,
Watching TV,
It befuddled me, because,
I had said nothing could be done,
But things had happened,
The weather hadn’t won.

GloPoWriMo 2019: 8/30

Today’s prompt asks me to incorporate a commonly used phrase relating to a profession in my poem.


Your Honour,
Legalese is not difficult,
It’s inaccessible.
And yes the Law was supposed to be for the common man,
But so was Medicine and Healthcare,
Yet no Uncle complains when he reads the shabby handwriting an
M.B.B.S. passes onto him after a check-up
Where he understands where he little.

Forget that Your Honour,
He doesn’t complain when the Pharmacist insists
That the substitute he offers is the
Perfect substitute to the drug the Doctor prescribed.
But here
That same Uncle,
He claims I steal his money and prolong his cases
Because every time we go to Court he sees another
Date slapped on his face.

Your Honour,
Please tell him I can’t do anything about that.
Or slap him with a fine.
Or worse, give him another date,
The look on his face will be divine.


GloPoWriMo 2019: 7/30

Today’s prompt challenges me to write a poem of gifts and joy. The prompt asks me some very difficult questions. Like “What would you give yourself, if you could give yourself anything?” This is particularly notorious because it’s very difficult for me to instantaneously name what one gift I want. As a result, this poem concentrates specifically on something I want right now.


At this present moment
It’s getting tougher and tougher to believe the things I read
The things I see – they contradict what I hear
And what I hear is distorted by what my friends hear
This chaotic cacophony  means
As society, we hold hands,
Stand in a circle,
And scream
Into the fire in the middle.

There is no left,
No right,
No neutral,
There is just bias
And noise.

I have nothing to believe in,
Nobody to trust.
I’ve grown up on truth,
But I’m maturing on lies.

So if I can ask for one thing,
And give to myself a superpower,
It would be the ability to find the truth,
Share it proudly,
Display it as a symbol of light,
Because there’s darkness everywhere,
No end in sight.

GloPoWriMo 2019: 6/30

Today’s prompt asks me to write about the “if’s”


My only desire is to be able to have conversations
With people who don’t share the same opinions as I do
Without them attempting to attack my ideology, my approach
Without the emotion
Without the lies
Just, plain conversation
No anger – just an exchange of information
An understanding of how ideologies practically function
An agreement on disagreement
No violence, no resentment.
I wonder if this will ever be possible
When our country battles with words, more than swords,
And prefixes, and suffixes are shrouded with subliminal messaging
Meant to attack, rather than inform.
One day I’m hopeful of engagement rather than brute disagreement
For it is in ignorance that darkness lies
And it appears that our world is in great need of light.