GloPoWriMo 2019: 5/30

Today’s prompt asks me to try one of three things. I’ve chosen to attempt a villanelle. Examples include One Art, by Elizabeth Bishop


I wish I could wear shorts everywhere,
Show off my bruised knees and my glistening shins,
Allow them to be declassified as merely leisure wear.

My legs deserve to breathe the open air,
I imagine it would catch several people unaware,
But truly, I wish I could wear shorts everywhere.

Understand that merely because pants are treated with more care,
Does not entitle them to a class containing silverwear,
Please, I beg you, declassify shorts as leisure wear.

This false notion propagates injustice,
It prevents shorts from being worn at classrooms and official events,
Shorts are stylish – allow me to wear them everywhere,
By declassifying them as merely being leisurewear.


GloPoWriMo 2019: 4/30

Today’s prompt challenges me to achieve sadness through simplicity.

Hide And Seek

There is a purple packet,
That is rather shiny.
It contains chocolate chip cookies,
In a square shape.
In the winter, the chocolate chips are a little melted,
And the biscuits are soft,
They’re rather delicious,
Although I know they may make my teeth rot.
I don’t really care about the sugar,
I will brush thrice if I have to.
But Gujarat summer means that the chocolate chips aren’t as melted any more,
Which is not at all what I expected,
Also the packet promised 10% extra biscuits,
I just checked,
I was duped.
Clearly the 10% is playing Hide And Seek.

GloPoWriMo 2019: 3/30

Today’s prompt was to write something that takes time.

Stuck in the Exam Hall

I enter in my pyjamas,
Having barely slept,
My beard’s gruffy,
I’m rather unkempt.
But my teeth are brushed,
And I’ve had a shower,
I’ve put on some deodorant,
That’ll keep me fresh for a few hours.

The door shuts behind me,
Blocking off the chaos outside,
People scrambling for last-minute explanations,
Others admitting their brain is fried.
I walk up and down the aisle,
Locating my registration number,
I look hard into my seat,
Does it have enough cushioning, I wonder.

The next three hours are going to be terrible,
For my entire body will ache,
My hand is going to cramp, my brain will fade,
I’m certain my butt atleast deserves a break.
I inhale deeply,
And take a seat,
The door is now locked,
My fate, now sealed.

The bell rings, it’s frequency shrill,
The room’s gotten colder,
With the AC on full blast,
The temperatures are chill.
My body doesn’t seem to understand,
I can feel a bead of sweat,
My exam paper is here,
And I’m ready to get wrecked.

I glance through the paper,
And look around,
People appear confused,
Our lack of knowledge visible, unbound.
I start to write with confidence,
The goal is to fill pages,
Even if there’s little of substance.

As I’m writing,
My mind begins to wander,
And all I can think,
Is whether my clothes will be laundered.
Quickly realizing I need a break,
I decide to drink some water,
I take a look at the clock,
Someone’s phone is ringing,
The invigilator’s caught her.

That chaos took me way off track,
And now I have two hours left,
I feel the need to pee,
My request falls on deaf ears, I am bereft.
Across the room, I make eye contact with my friend,
He’s struggling too,
He makes a PG-13 gesture,
I chuckle, and to write, I continue.

Thirty minutes later,
My bladder feels like it’s about to burst,
So I begin to sprint,
After I urinate, I run back – this routine is rehearsed.
Time is now flying by,
And there’s 30 marks still to write,
I’m pretty sure I need an extension,
But no help is in sight.

This last question is way too confusing,
How have I even made it this far, I wonder,
Now I’m drawing arrows because I can’t write full sentences,
My time-management has been a blunder.
The bell rings again,
My paper is taken
My friend makes another PG-13 gesture,
We laugh, my faith in our arbitrary marking system, unshaken.


GloPoWriMo 2019: 2/30

Today’s theme is Questions. I’ve taken inspiration from a quiz I did over the weekend.

Is Anyone There?

The next time you feel particularly sad,
In need of a set of ears,
Find yourself the closest balcony,
The closest rooftop,
Your closest gateway to the skies and open space,
And scream.

This coping mechanism works when you feel despair,
Or anything, even happiness, really,
And feel like you have nobody to share it with,
Because here’s the thing:
It doesn’t really matter what you scream,
Whether utter gibberish, or coherent phrases –
Somebody will respond.

Flogsta is a classic example,
But there are examples everywhere you look,
Including my own hostel, where “Maaro, Maaro!” evokes a raucous,
“Thaaai, Thaai!”, even when nobody is getting hit.

So don’t be afraid of attempting to communicate,
Somebody will respond,
That response may be delayed because of the lightyears your sound needs to travel,
But somebody will reply.

The next time you feel particularly sad,
And you ask yourself,
“Whom can I talk to?”
Find yourself the closest balcony,
The closest rooftop,
And scream, with hope, and conviction:
Is Anyone There?

GloPoWriMo 2019: 1/30

Today’s theme is to write an “instruction poem”, apparently. This is my attempt at that.


“Make sure you don’t get stains on this”
Your parents tell you when you get your first white formal shirt in Grade 4.
And you take that seriously: because the punishment might be severe,
Or worse you may disappoint your parents,
Which is for some reason, something you fear.
Except then you’re introduced to fountain pens,
With the perfect weight-balance,
The smoothest writing,
And the weapon of choice for every pre-teen with pent-up energy,
Getting inked does not mean getting a tattoo,
But is a rite of passage.
The first ink blot on your white shirt will scare you,
Because of the punishment at home,
But will make you laugh at it’s memory.
So here’s my instruction to you,
Child who is insolently crying in the corner with an ink blot on his shirt.
Stop crying
And throw ink on the fool that got you –
Because enduring punishment is easier in pairs.